But it’s there, the relief. The hope.
I’ve done it.
They’re letting me go.
They’re really going to make me a free man.
I climb to my feet and bow low to both of them. The Emperor looks away, repulsed, furious.
But Julius keeps those clear blue eyes level on me and drops his parting shot. “Of course, what you do with him once he’s been made free…” The hint of a smile curls the corner of his lips. “That’s of no interest to me.”
I barely even feel the blow.
The conflicting emotions are so loud I’m drowning.
I’m free.
Really free.
I played that game and I earned my place, and I’m out. I’m done. I’m the first man who ever won Deathball.
But beneath it all, pounding loud and insistent, is that scouring refrain:
Not without Robin.
Not without Robin.
As soon as the doors close behind me, I move as fast as I can for the dungeon. I want more than anything to run to his side, but for all my relative freedom here, to the guards, that would look exactly like an escape attempt.
So I watch every stone in every wall, every gas lamp, doorway after doorway, floating past, and I go down, down, deeper into the arena, the paths that were once a terrifying prison now leading to my home. No matter what state I find him in.
As soon as I’m through the dungeon doors, I run to Evander’s room. I fling the door open, and my breath catches.
Robin. Awake and sitting up. Beaten, bruised, so different with his lost hair, but my beautiful Robin.
I close the distance in a heartbeat, take his face in my hands, and kiss him as gently as the overwhelm allows me. But even with his split lip, his bruised body, his kiss comes back strong and true. He wraps his arms around me, and I’m home.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Robin’s in a coma,” Evander shouts loudly, then slams the door.
Robin’s beautiful laugh breaks our kiss, but I catch him again, kiss him again, then touch my forehead to his. “They told me you were in a coma. I was so scared.”
“I’m fine,” he says softly, his hand a soothing balm to the cuts on my cheek. “I’ll explain later. Marco…” He pulls back to look me over, his firm hands wrapping around my biceps as he holds me there. “What did you do?”
“I did it for you, birdie.” The worried smile that spreads softly over his lips sets my heart on fire. I’d kill a thousand times more for one-tenth of that feeling. “We’re going to be free. We’re going to make it out.” I take his face between my hands, holding him as close as I can. “They’re making me free. They’re really making me free. That was it. That was my last match.”
“What?” he whispers.
“Bullshit,” Cas exclaims, here for some reason.
But it’s Evander who sidles up beside Robin and leans against his bed with a far-too-serious face. “Who told you that?”
The well-meaning question makes me bristle. “Julius himself.”
Robin brings my hands down into his, waiting for my explanation.
I can barely form words, I’m so desperate to get it all out to him. “The crowd loved it. When I killed him. They were chanting for them to make me free. They expect it—they allwantit. And the Emperor was pissed, truly he was, but he can’t take it back now. Everyone in this city expects it, and Julius says he has to do it.”
I don’t like the way Evander pushes away from the bed, his face down, his mind ticking over. But he has the decency to not say a word about it.
