“What exactly do you think parties are for?” The Emperor swishes away from me, straight to the table where he put down his half-finished wine.
I keep dead still. I can’t afford to piss either of these men off, even if one already hates me. Julius will take over eventually, and unless I’m dead or gone by then, it’s already going to be a very bad time.
He strides in from the balcony, which runs the length of the palace, a blast of wind and a ruffle of curtains following him. “Do you know how much money is in that room?”
“Just who do you think assembled them?” the Emperor throws back. “You? You’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life.”
“Honest?” Julius gasps out, mockingly. “Nothing so honest as fucking your star player in front of a hundred guests.”
“Shut your stupid mouth, boy, or you’ll be going back in there with a bloody nose.”
It’s not the first time I’ve seen them fight. I’ve watched Julius grow from a guarded seventeen-year-old into this impetuous, turbulent young man. They’ve fought like this in front of me on numerous occasions, as though I’m nothing more than another piece of furniture, which, all things considered, is probably all I am to either of them.
Julius settles his sharp blue eyes on me. “Get out. Do what you were brought here to do before they lose all interest in you.”
I scan the Emperor for direction.
But he only runs his eyes over me, then mutters to Julius, “He’s worth no less for having had my dick in him.”
Julius turns away, his hand at his temple, and I wish I could do the same. I don’t remember a time I’ve felt so mortified. Not for years, certainly. It’s eviscerating. And right about then it occurs to me Julius is the only thing standing between the Emperor and me being down on my knees.
So I shoot Julius a look, compulsively. And I’m embarrassed that I feel the plea in it. Some desperation behind the stoic facade I’m trying so hard to keep.
He looks at me for a few long seconds, swishes his silvery hair back with a toss of his head, and suddenly more calm than before, states, “I know the Crown Shipping contract is due to be decided tonight. I think Captain Verus has the best chance of winning that game, and therefore, I think he should be out there talking with Jonathan Sinclair. That is, if you still want his fleet power.”
The Emperor lets out a loud groan, as if the making of his empire’s fortune is the most irritating thing that’s happened to him this year. He settles two hands on the dresser, head sunk, and mumbles, “Go, Marco.”
“Sir.” I pass a final glance across the room at Julius, but he’s already turned away, flipping through a ledger on the desk, awaiting my departure.
I make it fast, in case either of them changes their mind.
Like a ghost, I slip out into the dark hall, letting the door close softly behind me.
Then I take in one long, desperately needed, deep breath of air.
The lot of it’s slammed out of me when a hand takes my throat, swinging me around. My back hits the wall, and Robin’s lips, an inch from mine, rasp out his furious, “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
Chapter twenty-two
Robin: A Glimpse of Starlight
“What do I thinkI’mplaying at?” Marco says, voice tight, brimming with anger. “What do you thinkyou’replaying at?”
I open my mouth to reply, but he shushes me with a sharp gesture. “Not here.”
His hand grips my wrist, dragging me through the Emperor’s palace with the manner of someone who knows every corridor, every doorway. The walls blur past—gold leaf moldings, crystal sconces, marble statues posed in alcoves like silent witnesses—but I can’t take it all in, as the familiarity of his movement through this place twists something sour in my gut.
Marco glances over his shoulder, then pushes open a heavy oak door. He leads me through a library lined with leather-bound volumes that gleam in the moonlight streaming through tall windows. The scents of old parchment and expensive tobacco hang in the air.
He opens glass doors leading to a balcony overlooking manicured gardens that stretch into darkness. Perfectly trimmed hedges form geometric patterns around a central fountain, its water catching fragments of light from the palace’s windows.
Marco slides the balcony door shut behind us. The cool night air cuts through the heat of my anger, raising goosebumps along my bare arms. Two oil lanterns hang on the railing, offering light but no heat.
“What are you doing, Robin?” he seethes. “You’re supposed to be down there charming sponsors, not stalking me to the Emperor’s rooms!”
“Iwastalking to sponsors,” I snap back. “Before the Emperor took me aside.” The ghost of the Emperor’s vile touch still clings to my cheek. I stood there completely frozen, terrified of what might happen if I flinched away. Terrified of what it meant that he was touching me at all.
A spark flashes across Marco’s face. “You need to stop attracting his attention.”
