Chapter 17 Starlette Lily’s Strict Gardener
“Robin?!” came Jackson’s startled voice and he rushed to my side, skidding onto his knees as he gripped my shoulders. “Robin! Open your eyes.”
“H—huh?” My breath quivered as I peeked one eye open. The man who had always looked at me with indifference and annoyance had urgent concern in his eyes.
“Sir?” I croaked.
“Robin.” He looked me up and down before brushing back my bright ginger bangs. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I won’t throw the sword next time.”
“No, no, ah… It wasn’t that.” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”
Jackson looked me over, this time his eyes narrowed. He remained silent for a moment before muttering, “Robin… Do you have trauma involving swords?”
“What?”
“I can’t have a knight who is afraid to hold a sword,” he said, standing. “Combat would be impossible. You might as well already be dead.”
“Wait—no! That’s not it!” I stammered, springing to my feet.
I can’t let my dream slip through my fingers like this!
“I was just a little startled, that’s all,” I mumbled, hiding my trembling hands behind my back.
The captain’s narrowed gaze turned into a hostile glare. “Lie to me again, and you’re gone.”
I flinched. What do I say to that? He can see straight through me.
We stood in silence before Jackson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. I looked up at him as he grabbed the dropped sword and returned it to the pile. As he rummaged through the crates, I tilted my head until he returned with a ragged rope with a silver knife wrapped at the end of it.
My eyes widened, looking it over. “What is that?”
“A rope dart.”
“A rope— AH!” I yelped, sidestepping when the knife flung past me and returned to its wielder at lightning speed. A whistling ring of silver flew from his side to above his head; the rope swung from his knee, to the back of his neck, and then shot over his shoulder like an arrow towards the crates. The knife punctured a metal bucket full of water, ripping through the metal with ease and splattering the water. With another swing, it wrapped around the cluster of swords leaned against the wall, squeezing them together, and then flinging them when Jackson yanked the dart back. The force sent the swords flying in every direction.
Jackson rolled up the weapon like a common rope and held it out to me. “A rope dart.”
I speechlessly gawked, staring at the weapon I’ve never seen before—let alone know it existed. I pointed at it, and then at myself. Jackson nodded, and I stepped back.
“Whoa, no, there’s no way I can wield something like that! It’s amazing… and beautiful. But, I don’t think I got what it takes—”
“It’s either this or the sword.” Jackson held the weapon out to me again. “Your choice if you want to remain as one of my knights.”
I winced. Looks like those are my only choices.
My gaze lingered on the deadly yet graceful weapon. With careful fingers, I grasped it firmly.
“Okay… rope dart it is,” I murmured, squeezing it. “This is mine now.”
“In my opinion, the rope dart can be a better defense against a sword than a shield. And stronger, if you use it right.”
I glanced up at him and smiled, holding the rope dart to my chest. “Thank you, sir—”
“Just do me a favor and try not to slit your own throat,” he mumbled, walking past me.
My hand dropped to my side as my teeth ground again.
That—that jerk! Grah!
“Hey, wait!” I protested. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder as I held up the rope dart. “How do you expect me to use this thing if you won’t even teach me?”
A bold request I was prepared to get a rejection for, but to my surprise, he returned to me.
“Both hands.”
“Huh?”
“Hold it in both hands.”
“O—oh! Oh, okay. Got it.”
I gripped the knife’s hilt in one hand and the rest of the rope in the other.
Jackson pointed at the crates. “Where the bucket was, aim there.”
I squinted closer. The bucket was practically torn in half, but the force of the knife left a huge crevice in the wood.
“Hit THAT?!” I echoed. “But, it’s so far!”
Jackson heaved a sigh. “Robin…”
“Sorry! Sorry. Yes, sir.” I stood facing the crates and spun the knife on a short extension of rope, leaning my head away out of fear of nicking my cheek or worse.
“Gods, Robin,” Jackson muttered. “I have never met someone with so little confidence in themselves. Were you bullied?”
“N—no, I…” The knife stopped swinging as my gaze fell to the ground. “…Just pressured by a lot of important expectations.”
”Well, that ends now. Come here,” he ordered, standing behind me. With his big hands on my hips, he twisted me around where I’d stand sideways facing the grates. The captain dragged more rope past my fingers until the knife dangled at my calves.
I should’ve been more focused on the swinging sharp weapon, but the waves of heat coming from his body, warming my back as our bodies brushed against each other, and his fingers moving between mine made my mind hazy. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the man behind me. Jackson’s musky and metallic scent had grown on me—adjusted, or maybe too adjusted.
“Robin,” he snapped, yanking me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I just said?”
“Er, yes…”
Jackson immediately released me and walked away.
I spun around, jaw dropped. “Where are you going?”
The captain halted and looked over his shoulder, his hazel eyes shooting me a glare. “I told you not to lie to me. And what did you do?”
“I didn’t—”
“What did you do?”
“…I lied. But I kinda listened,” I mumbled.
Jackson huffed, shaking his head and grumbling something under his breath.
I barely caught the words, but it sounded like he called me a complicated woman.
My jaw dropped until my hands balled into fists and I barked, “You—! Argh, you’re the most intolerable man EVER!”
“Excuse me?” Jackson gaped, squinting down at me.
“You’re intolerable! And insufferable! And—and, just, awful!” I yelled.
The captain’s shock twisted into anger, barking back, “Says the woman who needs her ass saved every time because she leaps before thinking!”
“I don’t NEED to be saved by anyone!” I screamed, squeezing the rope before swinging it into a whistling silver ring. “Forget it, I’ll train myself. I don’t need your help.”
“Damn it, Robin, be careful! That’s still a—” Jackson’s warning came a second too late and the knife sliced my calf.
I yelped, stumbling, and he took a brisk step forward, but I held out my arm. “I said I don’t need your help!”
We stood in silence until Jackson turned away and scoffed, “So be it.”
As he left, I sniffled and wiped my eyes, cursing my habit of crying when angered.
I faced the crates, ignoring my stinging wound.
Fists tight, I swung the rope dart again.
I’m fine… right?