Every night.
He insists on keeping up this charade, pretending he’s sleeping in his cell. Maybe some of them believe it. But most of them are dead now anyway.
Val and Juan went in the second variety round. Iván a week after that. Jason fed Fredrik to wildcats yesterday. So now it’s only the champions left.
Me, Robin, Cas, Max, René, Jason, Harlan, and Mikhail.
Three more games, then the last one faces me. That’s how it always goes.
Robin’s terrified he’ll be up against Cas, and it’s a fair bet he will be. Cas has got the idea of how the game works, and he went into his last match looking like a star. He almost seemed to enjoy taking Val out, and the crowd ate it up. He’s a favorite, better looking than Jason now he’s got that scar. And he’s new and fresh, unlike Max, who’s never been able to crack the crowd or the sponsors the way one grin from Cas does.
A match between Robin and Cas would be a showstopper. That’s how I’d arrange it if I weren’t involved.
But since I am, I can only watch Cas for his weak spots, catalogue a list of places Robin can slide the knife in to murder his best friend.
It’s dirty work. And it only hints at what’s going on beneath.
I should be watching Robin for those weak spots. I should be mapping his body, plotting routes to his downfall. I should be meditating on the thought of splitting his skin, doing it to all of them, because I don’t know who I’m up against.
They loved us together, the crowd. It would be smart to recreate that next season. Only I’m not going to be here next season, so maybe they want him to be the one to take me out. The new favorite.
The best chance of my defeat.
But they can’t know that.
For all the talk swirling around the dungeon, all the whispers of the guards, I’ve no reason to think any of the sponsors know what’s going on.
That I’ve fallen for one of the players.
That he’s become everything to me.
That the thought of raising a hand to him in anger makes me sick to my stomach, makes me as weak as I was that first day, when they told me what was expected of me.
He makes me feel like the man I used to be. Free and young in the salt and sand. Someone with hopes and dreams. Someone who could look out at the horizon over the sea and wonder what beauties might lie beyond. Someone who had a future.
But I know now, beyond the shores of Atrea, all the world is black and burned and broken, ravaged and sick. And so I’m going back there. I’ll see my family safe. I’ll see Esme safe. I’ll take Maria with me. And once I finally settle, I’m never leaving again. But before I build a home for myself…
Some stupid part of me is imagining coming back here. Getting a job to do with Deathball, to stay by Robin’s side.
I know some people do it, rarely.
Evander is ex-Deathball. Not that he’ll ever be a free man. You can’t earn that without the favor of the crowd. It was the sacrifice he made to get out of the game. But then he had the skills to escape. They still needed him for a reason. It’s the only thing that saved him from prison.
What use would I be to them? Aging, commanding no pull of authority with the sponsors. Or with the Emperor.
The Emperor.
The thought sinks my stomach like a stone.
He hasn’t come to me in a month. I want to believe it’s over, that he’s found a replacement.
He’s sent me things, fine foods, robes, but he hasn’t visited once. And he hasn’t summoned me either.
Maybe Julius is keeping a closer eye on him. Maybe Julius is beginning to take over.
If Julius were in charge, then I’d never find a decent position here. I’d probably have to flee the city entirely.
And if Jason makes captain… What would that mean for Robin?
