“N-nowhere,” I make myself reply. “I was… Uh. How have you been?”
She leans in close, red lips parting over a fond smile. “Very well. Your boy, Robin…” She eyes him as hungrily as I probably did a few seconds ago. “He’s going to be a star, I can feel it. Thank you for getting me in on the ground floor.”
“You’re very welcome. He’s absolutely the pick of the bunch. This season and next. In fact, once I’m done with him, he’ll probably be even better than me.”
“So self-effacing, Marco,” she purrs.
On a forced breath of laughter, “I mean it. He could easily lead the team one of these days.”
She also laughs, bright and lightly condescending. “Well, we’ll see if anyone can fill your shoes once you’re gone. You’ve set an impossibly high bar.”
The words should feel like a compliment, but there’s something underneath. A reminder that I haven’t won yet. That freedom isn’t mine until I take it.
I make myself smile. “Robin’s got what it takes.” Then I chance another look at him, since we’re talking about him anyway.
“Oh, but Idid come over to talk to you about something. Remember you were saying you’re after a new house girl?”
The words barely register. The sight before me takes the lot from my chest, scrunches it into a ball, and lodges in my throat.
The Emperor, all swishing, shifting fire and gold, is making his way over to Robin. I need to stop him.
“Marco?” She catches my arm.
“Sorry?”
Robin’s head snaps up, an ashen pallor taking him at having been singled out by the man himself.
“You said you wanted a house girl,” Cornelia goes on. “A very specific one?”
What the fuck are they talking about?
It’s almost definitely just a basic meet and greet. Surely.
But my pulse is racing so hard I feel like I might pass out.
I don’t want this for him.
I try to excuse myself. “I just need to—”
“Because my friend Madeleine—” she says at the same time.
“Uh, if I could—”
“She seems to have exactly the girl you’re looking for.”
Time stops. The Emperor, Robin, the wine and the music and the plants and perfumes and every awful spirit in this place come to a standstill.
“Exactly the girl?” I repeat.
“A pretty little blonde thing, just like you asked for. Gray eyes.” She lowers her voice to an intimacy. “And she’s about to be up for grabs.”
“What do you mean?” I bark out. “Who’s Madeleine?”
I’ve forgotten myself. It feels almost as if two years of fawning at this woman’s feet falls in one big heap with the snap of her smile to a frown.
“I’m sorry. Sorry. Um. Y-you were saying?”
There’s a slight wrinkle at the side of her mouth, but she keeps talking, if a little more clipped than before. “She’s been with her for a few monthsnow. But the girl’s unruly. Unbreakable. Yet as pretty a girl as you ever saw. And I thought, if anyone could handle her…”
