Still, he stands there. Still, he stares. “And it wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond-haired beauty with one golden collar, would it?”
My cold, black heart stops beating.
He can see it. He can see it all over me. That stab hit home.
“You see, I received some information today, which is what brought me here, actually.” He wanders the room as he talks, swirling his hands about as if I should be able to understand a word while my head spins like this. “One of your men told the guards they were concerned by your… fraternizing with the men. One man in particular. They said they didn’t feel like it was an even playing field anymore. They said you couldn’t be trusted to keep the game fair.”
Jason. It has to be Jason.
Maybe Max…
“Well, do you see anyone here?” I bark at him, desperation turning to anger. “Look around. Would you like to check under my bed?”
But he does look around. Slides his eyes over the room as if he might find a tuft of Robin’s beautiful hair poking out of a drawer.
“There’s no one here,” I snap at him. “And do you know why? Because I’m fucking exhausted. Because I go out there, and I almost die, over and over, every year. Then you make me train these men, who become my friends. Then you make me put a spiky ball in their brains. And then you want me to suck your dick? Fine.” I grab hold of the tie around his waist and drag him toward the door. “Fine. Take me to your palace, my lord. I’ll get down on my knees for you like every other day. But you know what? I won’t pretend anymore.”
He smacks my hand away, drawing to a halt in the entranceway, his face a mask of revulsion, shocked at my outburst.
But I’ve started now and I can’t stop. “I won’t pretend I want it. I won’t pretend I’m not sick and fucking tired and worn out. That I wouldn’t like to just go to my own bed and sleep. To sleep and pretend, just for once, none of this is fucking happening. That I am my own man. That I have any sort of say, or freedom, or choice, in this fucking awful life you makeme live. Over and over again, this living fucking nightmare, and I hate it all so fucking much!”
It’s only his mortified glance toward the door that makes me realize I’m yelling. That the guards outside can hear. That I’ve insulted the Emperor of Victora loudly, with abandon, in front of his own men.
Icy, creeping horror takes me. “Forgive me.” My knees hit the tiles, cold and sharp, and I bury my head in the folds of his robe. “Please forgive me.”
Fuck, what have I done?
I need to get home.
Robin can’t be here; he can’t see him.
Fuck. He’s going to kill me.
“Please forgive me. I’m so tired. I didn’t mean any offence. It came out wrong. I’m just…”
His hands clamp slowly but firmly around my wrists, and he drags my fingers from his silk like I’m living garbage. “Youaretired. Not half the man I chose for this position.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I think it’s best you sleep now.”
I should call him back. I should take him to my bed and fix this.
But I can’t. Can’t do that to Robin. I can’t touch what we have. And I know this is it. I’ve done something horrible that jeopardizes everything I’ve ever worked for.
Yet even knowing that, the relief that floods me when the door clicks closed is a living thing.
Relief and horror, all curled up in one green, dying, wretched vine growing thorns all through me.
Then the soft touch of a hand in my hair. A touch I know like it’s my own soul.
I open my eyes, and Robin’s there. “I thought I should come in the back,” he says softly.
“You saw?”
He drops down beside me, threading his fingers deeper into my hair. “I saw it all.”
“I didn’t touch him.” All at once the tears burst out of me, and Robin pulls my head to his chest. “I didn’t touch him.”
