by Jenna Moreci
Except She wasn’t a child. Not anymore.
“You work for Me now.”
1
The Senators
“Grow.”
Heat pulsed from Her body, seeping into the ground beneath Her. Everything around Her was warm—the dry summer air, the harsh rays of the sun—but nothing compared to the light within Her. She was always warm. She couldn’t escape it.
“Be alive. Be well.” She breathed in. “Grow.”
As Her light poured into the dirt, She sifted Her fingers through the grass, taking in its response—vitality. A soupy blackness lingered deep underground, waiting to snake its way to the surface.
“Settle down now. Back to where you came from.”
A pounding sounded at the door far behind Her. “Leila?” Delphi called out.
Leila sighed. “I’m busy.”
“Everyone’s waiting for You. Have You forgotten Your meeting?”
“I’m blessing the realm,” She shouted.
“Then bless it quickly.”
She groaned. “Give Me a moment.”
One last pulse of light, and She propped Herself upright. A sea of color stretched ahead—an elaborate garden filled with manicured trees, mosaicked pots, and flowers of all kinds. Wiping the grass from Her naked body, She hopped to Her feet and headed up the steps, past the white pillars and black velvet curtains, and into Her bedchamber.
A stately bed with crimson throws, tall walls lined in gold molding, speckled tiles along the floor. Hers was the most lavish chamber in the palace, certainly the only one with a private garden. She threw open Her wardrobe and pulled on a lavender dress, its braided straps settling on Her shoulders, the neckline hanging low between Her breasts, then tied a pair of tanned leather sandals onto Her feet. Sticking Her leg out from one of the slits in Her dress, She buckled a blade to Her thigh—the final piece of Her ensemble, one She never went without.
Leila closed the mirrored doors of Her wardrobe and studied Her reflection, combing Her locks into place. Two other faces reflected back at Her—a woman with strawberry blonde hair and icy eyes, another with hair like ink and a sable gaze.
Leila cracked a smile. “Hello, Mothers.”
She bounded through the chamber door, met with a pair of blue-green eyes.
“Good morning!”
Pippa threw her arms around Her, knocking Her off balance. Leila pulled back, patting down the flyaways of Pippa’s blonde hair and giving her pale cheeks a pinch. Delphi stood at her side, her long black braids hanging over the front of her shoulders. God, she looked so much like her mother, especially those sable eyes.
“Took You long enough,” she scoffed.
Taking Pippa’s hand, Leila nodded at the corridor ahead. “Walk and talk?”
The three sisters made their way through the palace. Marble busts lined the walls, stained glass windows cast rainbows along the floor, and vaulted ceilings loomed high overhead, rendering them mere specks amid the majesty. The palace was as grand as it was vast, its enormity eclipsed only by the fortress surrounding it; gardens and vineyards peppered the royal dwellings, encircled by a tall stone wall. Beyond it lay Thessen, the realm Leila was to govern and rule.
The realm She had never seen.
The girls headed into the heart of the palace. Servants bowed, but Leila paid them little mind, occupied with more pressing thoughts.
Delphi squeezed Her arm. “You know what You’re going to say?”
“Every word,” Leila whispered.
“Really sell it. Lay it on nice and thick.”
Leila snorted. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You can’t fault my worry. Weakness has never been Your strong suit.”
“I’m not going with weakness. I’m going with anger.”
Delphi’s eyes lit up. “Oh. Much better. That’s completely in character, they’ll never suspect a thing.”
Another woman wafted their way, and every male gaze in sight followed. Cosima—Leila’s third and final sister, arguably the most enchanting. Pippa had delicate features and wide-set eyes, while Delphi was a vision of regality with rich brown skin and elegant curves. But Cosima commanded attention in every room she entered—her skin was like porcelain, her eyes apple-green, and her hair came down in fiery red waves, landing just shy of her full, enviable breasts. A dazzling smile sprang to her lips, and Leila could’ve sworn the room became brighter.
“Good morning, doves.” Cosima nestled alongside them. “What are we whispering about?”
“The meeting,” Delphi said. “She’s on Her way.”
“Ah, yes. How exciting.”
The atrium opened up ahead—the largest, most lavish room in the palace, but today it was a cluttered mess. Baskets of ribbons were strewn across the massive dining table, and servants zigzagged through the space, wrapping garlands around the marble columns and hanging stars from the chandeliers.
“For Your birthday tomorrow,” Cosima said.
Her voice hardly registered. Leila stopped in Her tracks, eyes locked on the opposite end of the room where a man stood reading over a scroll. “Who is that?”
Delphi followed the path of Her gaze and shrugged. “Some guard.”
He was surely more god than guard, miles tall with sculpted arms. Shaggy, golden-blond hair danced across his brow, catching the light of the sun like a halo. It was rare to see young men in the palace, especially men who were this striking.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Leila said. “I mean… I’m certain I’ve never seen him before.”
“Oh, that’s Asher.” Cosima leaned in closer, speaking in hushed tones. “He’s new—recruited from the border, just took his vow yesterday. You know how your father is: more soldiers, more guards.” Cosima eyed the man over. “Divine, isn’t he?”
Asher. He gnawed at his bottom lip, focused on whatever he was reading, and a tremor ran through Leila. God, if I could be that lip.
Cosima chuckled. “You little minx, look at You! You’re flushed!”
Leila scowled. “I most certainly am not.”
“Oh stop it, no one can blame You. The man’s a work of art.” She eyed him up and down. “He’s lovely too. Would You like to meet him?”
“What?” Leila snapped. “No. Definitely not.”
“We haven’t the time,” Delphi said.
“Nonsense.” Cosima grabbed Leila’s wrist. “Asher, dove, look who I’ve found!”
Leila’s eyes widened. “Cosima—”
Cosima ignored Her, dragging Her down the corridor. “Asher, have you had the pleasure of meeting Leila?”
Asher glanced between the two women. “No, I don’t believe so.”
Leila’s throat caught. Tan skin, broad shoulders, and honey-brown eyes gazing straight into Hers. Say something. She mustered a smile. “Hello.”
An infinite silence followed. Cosima let out a laugh. “Well, don’t be rude, shake his hand.”
She shoved Leila, sending Her staggering over the polished tiles, straight into a stretch of sunlight.
Oh, shit.
The glaring heat beat down on Her, and in turn every exposed inch of Her flesh was radiant.
Glowing.
“Oh my God.” Asher stumbled backward. “You’re…”
The words never came. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and he collapsed to the floor with a hard smack.
Gasps sounded across the atrium, and Leila cringed. Not again.
“Oh dear, I hadn’t anticipated that,” Cosima murmured.
Servants circled, gaping at the glowing woman and the man sprawled at Her feet. How many times must this happen before it stops being humiliating?
“Should we get a healer?” A servant said. “I can summon Diccus—”
“No, it’s all right.” Leila squatted beside the fallen guard. “I’ll take care of it.”
Delphi sighed. “Your meeting…”
“I’ll take care of it.” Leila looked her hard in the eye. “This is My duty.�
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She turned to Asher, pulling his eyelid open only for it to snap shut. Out like a snuffed torch. Tilting his head, She combed through his golden mane—no blood, no cracked skull. Blips of pain stung Her fingertips, traveling from his battered head to Her hand. Concussed. An easy fix. She planted Her palm on his forehead.
“Rouse his senses,” She whispered. “Ease the ache. Bring him back.”
Her hand went from warm to hot, burning in a way She was accustomed to. Light flooded from Her touch, flowing through him in waves, and the traces of his pain began to fade.
Asher stirred, and Leila dropped Her palm, revealing a bright white handprint beaming from his forehead.
“What is…?” He winced. “What happened?” His eyes fluttered open, settling on the woman hovering over him.
Still Leila. Still glowing.
“Oh my God,” he said. “You’re… You’re—”
“The Savior.” Cosima jutted her head into his line of sight. “The holy gift of Thessen. She’s blessed you with Her divine light. Isn’t that marvelous?”
Asher stared up at Leila in shock, then scrambled along the floor, kneeling before Her. “Apologies, Your Holiness—”
She stood. “It’s Leila.”
“I didn’t mean to…” He wrinkled his nose. “Did I faint?”
“Yes, you did. It’s quite common, actually—”
“How unseemly. Please forgive my weakness, I meant no offense.”
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s an honor to serve You, Your Holiness,” he said. “I took an oath to devote my life to Your safety and to the safety of Your palace. My body is Your shield.”
My body is Your shield. She could think of better uses for it. “That’s nice,” She muttered.
Asher rose to his feet, staring at Her with a look of awe. Of disconnect. “Apologies for my lack of decorum. I am humbled to have met You, Your Holiness.”
A frown fought its way across Her face. “Please, call Me Leila.”
“Of course, Your Holiness. Good day, Your Holiness.”
He shuffled off, ignorant to the bright white eyesore on his forehead.
“He’s nice,” Pippa said. “We should keep him.”
Cosima chuckled. “Well, You created quite a scene, didn’t You?”
“Yes, She did.” Delphi scowled. “Who could’ve possibly predicted such a thing?”
Cosima ignored her, sighing. “Leila, if I’ve told You once, I’ve told You a thousand times: If You want a man’s affection, You mustn’t be so intimidating.”
“I wasn’t seeking his affection,” Leila spat. “I was simply introducing myself.”
“You’re sure? You seemed rather taken. At least until, You know…” Cosima’s gaze traveled to the spot where Asher fell. “Boom.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Well, You would know best.” Smiling, Cosima cupped Leila’s cheeks. “You look beautiful, by the way. My sweet sister. Such a gift, You are.”
She flitted off, leaving Leila glowing on the outside, muted within. A gift. Many made such claims—that Leila was divine, that Her light was a gift from God—but in moments like these, being The Savior was more burden than blessing.
Leila wasn’t the only Savior to have graced the realm. The first was born centuries ago during a time of plague, a beacon of hope with striking eyes and ivory skin that glowed the moment it caught the sun. The light of Her body was strong enough to leave a person faint, but its true power manifested in the realm around Her. Desert lands flourished, crops sprouting from the arid sands, and the people were healed, free of disease and suffering. With this girl’s birth came a cleansing, and the people gave to Her the title She had earned: Her Holiness, Ruler of Thessen.
Their Savior.
As the realm grew in prosperity, so did the royal line. The Savior birthed a daughter of equal power, who birthed a daughter as well, and each girl was welcomed with a beautiful fortress, loyal servants, and a court of sisters elected to grow alongside Her. The bloodline thrived, a succession of rulers with celestial flesh, piercing eyes, and an array of magical gifts, namely Their divine, healing light.
Like the Saviors before Her, Leila made the palace Her home, was bathed in riches, was appointed three sisters, Her faithful court. Still, Her reign was unique. She was the first to remain hidden within Her fortress. She was the first to be a mystery to Her people.
She was the first birthed from a corpse.
Delphi poked into Leila’s line of vision, nodding at the path Cosima had taken. “She did that on purpose, You know.”
Leila shook the debacle from Her mind. “We have more important concerns.”
The women continued through the palace, stopping just shy of a large black door. Delphi turned toward Her. “You’re sure You’re prepared?”
“I am.”
“Me too!” Pippa said.
Leila sighed. “Little duckling, I know you want to come along, but this meeting is just for The Savior. You understand, yes?”
Pippa pouted. “All right.”
Delphi grabbed Leila’s hands, squeezing them. “For Your realm.”
Leila nodded. “For Mother.”
She opened the door and headed inside.
Stark white walls, pitch-black floor, a domed ceiling—everything about the Senate room was severe. A map of the realm covered one of the walls, and a large, round table loomed ahead, encircled by nine men.
I hate you.
“Leila.” The man seated across from Her scowled. “How kind of You to finally join us.”
Her eyes bore through him—the red drape across his bare chest, the glower on his face.
Brontes. She hated him most of all.
Leila made Her way to the table, not once breaking his gaze. Their hair was the same deep brown, just shy of black, but Leila’s was long and sleek, while Brontes’s was flecked with grey. Brontes was large and brawny with bronze skin, while Leila had always been small and slender, Her skin ghostly in the shade, aglow in the sun. Then there were the eyes; Leila’s were amber-gold in the shadows, but in the light they were wild flames. Brontes’s didn’t look anything like that, and he only had the one, his left socket hidden behind a thick black patch.
My nose is different. I have that freckle above my cheek. Never mind She had his full lips, that Her cheekbones sat high just as his did. Leila always looked for differences. Anything that told Her She was nothing like him.
She tore Her gaze from Brontes, eyeing the other men. Phanes. Erebus. Qar. The palace Senators, eight in total—and several empty seats.
“No Toma, I see?” She said. “Are we to start without him?”
“He’s been missing for three days,” Brontes muttered.
“Is that right? Another man gone? Well, we’re better off for it. I never cared much for him anyway.” She took Her seat. “Shall we begin?”
Brontes grumbled under his breath, “Who calls this meeting?”
“I do,” Leila said.
“Second,” Kastor added.
“First order of business: your retirement.” Leila clasped Her hands together. “Tomorrow’s My twentieth birthday. I’m of age. I haven’t a need for you any longer.”
The men glanced at one another, silent. Simon cleared his throat. “Your Holiness, with all due respect, we’ve discussed this at length many times over. The position we hold is binding.”
“And I’ve told you at length that come My twentieth birthday, I will be severing whatever it is that binds us together,” Leila said.
“Your Holiness, the law states we are to serve You indefinitely.”
“The law you yourselves have written. How convenient.”
Another man, his tawny skin weathered with age, offered a smile. “Your Holiness, allow me to speak on behalf of the others when I say we understand Your opposition. You are a grown woman, and what a woman You’ve become.” He glanced at Brontes, bowing his head. “But Your father, our righteous Sovereign, nominated us f
or a reason. The burden You carry is heavy. It is our duty to lighten it, for no purpose other than to benefit our One True Savior.”
Gelanor—the Vault Keeper, easily the most well-spoken Senator of the bunch. The king of discourse. The master of bullshit.
“Your mother, God rest Her soul, was to teach You the art of governing,” Gelanor said. “And as She is not here with us—a very sad turn of events indeed—we have taken it upon ourselves to aid Your hand.”
Leila’s lips pursed. Bullshit.
“So alas, in Your mother’s departure, You have inherited this merry lot.” He opened his arms wide. “Consider us Your surrogates.”
Leila let out a laugh. “My surrogates? Is that right? Tell Me, are you going to whip out your tit and have Me suck it dry, Mother?”
“Leila, You vulgar shit, still Your tongue,” Brontes snapped.
“I will not sit tolerantly while you lie to My face under the guise of duty. Tomorrow, I am of age. I demand My crown.”
“For God’s sake, You have a crown,” he scoffed. “You have a whole collection.”
“It is My purpose to govern. It is My birthright to lead—”
“You’re not governing Thessen. Not now, not ever.”
“Why?”
“Because You’re incapable,” he spat. “This outburst of Yours has proven that.”
Leila glared at Her father, wishing Her eyes would tear through him.
“Who motions to keep the law as it stands?” he said.
“I do.”
“Second.”
Brontes cast Leila a glower. “The law remains.”
She looked away, unable to stomach his gaze any longer. “Well then, it seems you all can continue to handle Thessen’s affairs, and I will continue to do absolutely nothing. How free I feel, with My burdens lifted. They seem nonexistent, in fact.”
An old, round Senator with plump, pink cheeks and unkempt white hair cut in. “Oh, that’s not true, Your Holiness. Your duties are vast.” He fiddled nervously with his sapphire drape. “Why, You bless the realm each day. Such a taxing process, I’m sure. The realm is eternally grateful.”