“He won’t be waking up for hours,” Evander says, checking Cas’s pulse. “Trust me.”
I turn toward the door. I need to find Marco. Need to feel something solid and real after watching my best friend nearly bleed out.
“Wait.”
I hesitate, then slowly turn back.
Evander’s expression is grave now, all traces of humor gone. “Caspian is right, you know. Next week, you need to fight with everything you’ve got.”
Shock hits me, a cold slap to the face. “Why are you saying that? Isn’t Marco one of your only friends here?”
Evander nods slowly. “I love the bloody bastard.”
“Then…”
When Evander looks at me, his gaze holds something I don’t expect—compassion mixed with steel.
“If you hold back next week, Marco will hate himself for the rest of his life.”
I step backward, my shoulder blade hitting the cold stone wall. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means Marco would rather die fighting than live knowing you threw the match for him.” Evander’s voice is quiet but unrelenting. “He’s proud, Robin. Stubborn as hell. If he survives because you didn’t give everything you had, it’ll destroy him.”
My hands curl into fists. “So I’m supposed to try to kill him? That’s your advice?”
“I’m saying you fight with everything you’ve got. Both of you.” Evander moves closer, his expression intense. “Because that’s the only way either of you can live with whatever happens.”
The room feels too small suddenly. Too hot. I can’t get enough air.
“And…” Evander hesitates, then continues. “And youdeservea fair shot, Robin.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“Nothing about Deathball is fair. You know that.” His voice drops lower. “But you deserve that, at least. A real fight. An honest one. A chance at surviving.”
The words circle around my brain.Fair. When has anything in my life been fair? When my parents died? When Esme and I almost starved during the famine year? When Victora’s soldiers dragged me away in chains?
When I fell in love with the man I’m supposed to murder in seven days?
“I have to go.” The words scrape past my throat.
Evander nods, turning back to check on Cas’s vitals, and I push through the door and stumble into the corridor, my legs unsteady. I lean against the door to Evander’s office, sliding down until I’m sitting on the cold floor. My head falls back against the wood with a dull thud.
Evander is right. Nothing about this is fair.
Not for me. Not for Marco. Not for Cas lying unconscious on that table after beating a man’s skull to pulp.
My hands find my hair, fingers tangling in the waves. I pull. Hard. The sharp pain across my scalp feels good—clean and simple compared to the mess inside my chest.
I pull harder, until my eyes water. Until my scalp burns.
But it’s nothing compared to what’s happening in my heart.
It’s destroying itself from the inside out.
Complete annihilation.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
