24. Chapter 24

Chapter twenty-four

I had to stop holding him, and it is breaking me apart. Even though I know damn well that sitting there with Mabon in my arms was not a long-term solution, leaving him feels like the worst thing I have ever done. And given recent events, that’s really saying something.

I’m so glad he fell asleep and I was able to tuck him up on the narrow bunk and slip away, but the thought of him waking up all alone and panicking, is destroying me. I want to run back to him. My arms are aching to hold him.

But I have to be strong. I can’t help him if I’m in his cell with him. I need to be out here, making plans. And apparently that looks an awful lot like sitting on my bunk staring blankly at the wall.

I’ve snapped my remaining shoelace in to two bits, and fixed my shoe and now I’ve run out of things to do. So I am just sitting here.

I might as well have stayed with him. I’ve abandoned him for no reason. He is going to wake up all alone and hate me even more than he already does.

I groan and run my hands through my hair. Think, Blake, think. But I’ve got nothing. My mind is empty of plans, I have no idea what to do, and it’s doubly frustrating because I’m pretty sure if the roles were reversed, Mabon would have no problem at all with figuring out something genius.

Not that he would have betrayed me.

Or let me come to harm.

Bile rises in my throat. This is a nightmare. One I cannot wake up from. One entirely of my own making.

A sharp knock on my door has me jumping out of my skin, but it is only Amanda.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch in the mess hall?”

My stomach rolls queasily, but sitting here isn’t filling me with inspiration, so perhaps a change of scene will be good. Or miracles might happen and I might overhear something useful.

I nod mutely, climb to my feet and follow Amanda down the featureless corridor. The mess hall is busy, which is good for my half-arsed spying plan, but terrible for my mood. All this noise and movement feels like too much to deal with. Too much stimulation for my already racing mind.

Amanda tells me to grab a table while she gets us some food, so I do. The plastic chair is uncomfortable, it’s clearly designed for people of a much shorter stature than me. And that just proves what a bad mood I’m in. I’ve lived in a world designed for smaller people since I was sixteen years old. It doesn’t normally even register, let alone irritate me.

Thankfully, Amanda returns quickly. She slides a tray of what looks like macaroni over to me. I grimace and start shovelling it in. All the food at the palace was fresh. Wholesome and delicious. I miss it.

We eat in silence for a while, but my skin is prickling. I glance around. People are staring at me. They are trying to pretend that they’re not, but it is pretty bloody obvious.

“What are they looking at?” I grumble to Amanda.

Her eyes dart around nervously. “You’re a hero!” she says, far too brightly.

I frown at her.

“And very handsome!”

“Amanda,” I say wearily.

She sighs and her eyes fill with pity. “I’m so sorry, but what happened to you is so awful. You are not even gay!”

I stare at her speechlessly. What the hell did she just say? Shock gives way to anger, and I’m jumping to my feet. The chair crashes to the ground.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything? Are you suggesting that if I was gay, I would have enjoyed being assaulted?”

Amanda’s face has gone bright red. The mess hall has fallen silent enough to hear a pin drop. I look around. If they weren’t staring before, they are now.

“I didn’t mean…” Amanda trails off.

I can’t deal with this right now. It is the very last thing I need. And all these pairs of eyes on me feel as if my flesh is burning.

I turn on my heels and storm away. Not the most mature thing to do, but it’s better than punching something.

As soon as I am alone in the hallway, my anger starts to fade. It is as if the mess hall was a sauna and it is a normal temperature out here. I can breathe again.

As my rage dissipates, guilt rushes in to fill the space it leaves behind. Guilt and shame. And a whole mix of other emotions that I cannot even begin to name.

Why did I paint myself as the victim in there? I enjoyed the things I did with Mabon. I liked it. I like him. Really like him. Why is that so hard to admit? Am I homophobic? I didn’t think I was, but apparently I prefer people to believe that I wasn’t willing.

Or maybe I’m being hard on myself. Mabon is the enemy. It’s not insane to not want people to know I was sleeping with him out of choice.

This is so confusing.

But some things aren’t. Some things are perfectly clear.

I never should have done this to him. I should have known that humans would be assholes. It’s fucking obvious. His own people are awful, but he is an expert in dealing with them. I haven’t helped him at all. I have dragged him from the frying pan into the fire.

As for my stupid ideas of glory, they were very stupid. I’m nothing but a selfish douchebag.

“Hey!”

The voice has me spinning around and grinding to a halt. It is the young man who was guarding my door the other day. Now he is jogging after me from the mess hall.

“Hey,” he repeats as he catches up. “I just wanted to say, if you want your revenge, I can get the boys to turn a blind eye. They’d all be up for it.”

Cold horror hits my gut like a sucker punch. I wheeze in a breath. Miraculously, my brain fires up. Play it safe. Play it cool. Keep your cards close to your chest. Don’t be an idiot for once in your life.

“Thanks,” I say tonelessly.

Then I turn around before my expression can give anything away. Luckily, I’m only a few steps from my room. I let myself in and collapse on my bunk.

I suck in a deep, shuddery breath. What the hell?

My brain continues to whirl. I lost my shit in the mess hall. Everyone was feeling sorry for me and I confirmed it in the worst possible way.

Then it hits me. None of them saw me comforting Mabon in his cell. And while I’m one hundred per cent sure that Mr Jones has watched the camera feed and is now suspicious of me, the Resistance works on a need to know basis. And none of the guards need to know what Mr Jones saw.

So they all think I hate Mabon. They have no reason to believe otherwise. And my little temper tantrum confirms their assumption.

Hence the offer of revenge.

Oh my god.

It is all coming together, and I think I might actually have the beginnings of a plan.

This is nothing short of a miracle.