“My father was a paranoid man,” I find myself saying, the words coming out before I can stop them. “He saw enemies everywhere, betrayal in every shadow. He was always preparing for the next attack, the next knife in the back. With good reason.”
Robin turns to study my profile. “And you think you’ve inherited that paranoia?”
“By necessity, yes. I can’t trust anyone completely.”
“Because getting close makes you vulnerable,” Robin agrees softly.
The understanding in her voice prompts a further confession from me. “It’s difficult, being a woman in my position. The Consortium didn’t want me when my father first suggested it, though he overruled them. Some wings of the organization still look for ways to undermine me. After my father was shot…” I pause, remembering those dark days. “It was only luck that they rallied behind me. Luck and fear.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Robin says firmly. “I don’t know them, but I know you. You earned their respect.”
“Did I? Or did I just scare them into submission?”
For a moment, I let myself look vulnerable—too human. Robin’s blue eyes study my face like she’s seeing me for the first time.
“Maybe both,” she says honestly. “But who cares about the past? You’re here now, aren’t you? Sitting on the grass, eating bread and cheese like a normal person.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Is that what normal people do?”
“Among other things.” Robin reaches for a piece of bread, tearing it in half and offering me a portion. “They also worry about mundane things like grocery bills and whether their favorite TV show will get renewed.”
“How refreshingly ordinary.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask, genuinely curious. “If you had power, if you could shape the world to your will, why on earth would you chooseordinary?”
Robin considers this while chewing thoughtfully. “Because ordinary is safe. Because it doesn’t require armed guards and bulletproof cars. Because you can love people without wondering if they’ll use it against you.”
Love. She says the word like it’s a simple thing.
“I wanted to talk to you about Leon,” I say, suddenly desperate to change the subject. Her face shutters slightly, but she nods for me to go on. “What you saw was not him plotting against me. He was carrying out my wishes. The man you saw him having arobust conversationwith, shall we say, is the man who is supposed to oversee the upkeep of the school. He’s been pocketing the money the Novaks have donated over the years.”
“Ohh,” Robin breathes. “So Leon was?—”
“Explaining how things will work from now on. And I’ve been organizing upgrades to the village school.”
Robin’s face lights up. “You’re really doing that?”
The delight in her expression makes warmth spread through my chest—an odd buzzing sensation I don’t entirely recognize. “Yes. New paint, playground equipment, whatever else they need.”
“That’s wonderful!” Robin’s enthusiasm is infectious. “They’ll be so excited. Some of those kids are so bright, they just need better resources.”
I find myself staring at her lips as she talks, at the way her hands move through the air, at the passion that transforms her entire face when she discusses something she cares about. When was the last time I felt passionate about anything beyond power and revenge?
What thehellis happening to me?
“You care about them,” I observe. “The children.”
“Of course I do.” Robin looks at me like the question is absurd. “They’re kids. They deserve every chance to succeed, to dream, to become whatever they want to be.”
“Even if they come from nothing? Even if their parents are just…ordinary?”
“Especially then. Everyone deserves a chance. Everyone deserves someone who believes in them, who sees the good in them. Including you, Eva.”
I’m used to my name being spoken with fear, with respect, with the careful deference of those who know exactly what I’m capable of.
Robin says it like she sees something in me worth saving.
