by Jenna Moreci
Wembleton. The Master of Ceremonies. Another ass.
“Second order of business: the Sovereign’s Tournament.” Leila crossed Her arms. “That won’t be happening.”
Brontes groaned. “For the love of God…”
Wembleton’s face dropped. “Your Holiness, it’s tradition.”
“Isn’t tradition ours to break?” Leila said. “After all, we’re not following the tradition of having The Savior lead Her realm. We’re not following the tradition of allowing The Savior to leave Her fortress—”
Gelanor gasped. “Your mother was murdered in the streets of Thessen. Surely You must know we keep You here for Your own safety.”
Leila resisted the urge to roll Her eyes. “With all these traditions abandoned, what’s one more? Why not break tradition and nullify My tournament?”
“My tournament,” Brontes said. “It’s called the Sovereign’s Tournament, is it not?”
“Yes, to find My husband.” Leila shrugged. “Something I’m not particularly interested in.”
Wembleton shook his head. “Your Holiness, You say that now, but when You meet these men, I assure You—”
“Perhaps I’m not interested in men at all. Maybe I like women. Developed a taste for cunt and tits.”
“Enough!” Brontes slammed his fist against the table. “You are out of line!”
“The Sovereign’s Tournament is a disgrace to Thessen. A bloodbath passed as spectacle, turns men into animals and The Savior into a prize. I will not have it—”
“You will if I say so.”
“I am The Savior. My word—”
“Means nothing,” Brontes hissed. “Haven’t You learned, precious daughter? You hold no power. So be as insufferable as You’d like, but know it accomplishes nothing, same as always.”
The room fell silent, all eyes on Leila.
“Tomorrow is Your birthday. The next day is the pool, and the day that follows will mark the start of the Sovereign’s Tournament as planned.” Brontes leaned forward. “And You will shut Your mouth and take it, do You understand me?”
I hate you. The words took shape in Her throat, begging for release.
“See? Isn’t that so much better than Your ranting?” Brontes glanced around the table. “Who motions to end today’s meeting?”
“I do.”
“Second.”
“Today’s Senate meeting is terminated.” Brontes flashed one last look of disdain Leila’s way. “And what a waste of time it was.”
The room filled with mutterings, some about Leila’s candor, though most of it was riddled with those three heinous words: the Sovereign’s Tournament. Thirty days of violence, all in the search of Leila’s Champion. My husband.
“Your Holiness?”
A lean man with wrinkled copper skin, black-and-white hair balding at the crown, and a hooked nose hovered beside Her. “A word alone? To solidify terms for the tournament.”
Romulus. Frowning, She mumbled under Her breath, “Fine.”
The others filed from the room. Romulus trudged to the door, shutting it before turning Her way. “And what exactly was the point of all that?”
“I have My reasons,” She muttered.
“They think You’re weak now. Helpless, even.”
“Then it seems My meeting served its purpose.”
He faltered. “You have a plan.”
Leila didn’t bother responding, studying the ends of Her hair. “What of the tournament?”
“It is as You suspected. Brontes moves against You.”
“Against Me how?”
“You know how. He’s already taken Your power. But he wants the glory, always has. The people only worship him if You’re gone.”
A weight dropped in Her gut. “He’s made the call. I am to die.”
“The Sovereign’s Tournament will mark Your assassination.”
She sat calm and stoic, but rage bellowed within Her, screaming for action.
“The Senate?”
“All complicit,” he said. “The guards, the soldiers—they know nothing of his plan, but they are loyal to Your father. They will aid him, knowingly or not.”
“By what means?”
“Pardon?”
“The assassination. What is his strategy? How am I to be killed?”
Romulus wavered. “I don’t know.”
“You lie to Me.”
“He scatters the information. No one man knows everything, it’s how he retains his control.”
Leila bit down on Her lip. “Give Me a name.”
“Your Holiness—”
“A name.”
Romulus tensed. “Gelanor.”
“The Vault Keeper.”
“He’s met with Brontes several times recently. There’s been discussion of a large transfer of funds. He’ll know the most of anyone.”
“And that slow trickle?”
“Still nothing,” Romulus said. “No one knows where the coin is going.”
Leila sat still, sorting through the mess in Her mind. “The tournament is to have a Proctor, yes? Someone who oversees the competitors?” Romulus nodded, and Her eyes narrowed. “You will be that Proctor. Make it so.”
“I doubt I’ll be his choice—”
“Make it so.”
Romulus’s nostrils flared. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
Leila rose from Her seat, making Her way to the door. “Well then, I suppose I have to pay Gelanor a visit.”
“A brief request that I imagine will fall on deaf ears,” Romulus called out behind Her. “Consider mercy for these men.”
“Mercy? For the men who plan My assassination?”
“They’re foolish. Influenced by greed. And they greatly fear Your father.”
“You’re right. They are foolish. They fear the wrong person.” Her hands curled into fists. “No mercy. If they want blood, I will give it to them.”
She threw open the door and was met with two faces—one wearing a wild grin, the other fierce and focused. Leila glanced between Pippa and Delphi, gesturing at the corridor ahead. “Walk and talk.”
The two hurried alongside Her, Pippa taking Her hand while Delphi leaned over Her shoulder. “How’d it go?”
“As expected,” Leila said.
“What now?”
Leila looked her in the eye. “Gelanor.”
“Gelanor.” Pippa giggled. “He’s fat.”
“Pippa, it’s not polite to tease people for their shapes and sizes.” Leila turned to Delphi. “I’m going now.”
“You think he’ll be there already?” Delphi said.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll wait.”
“It’s that urgent?”
Leila’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s what we thought.”
Delphi wavered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “To his chamber then.”
“Meet Me there.”
Delphi nodded. “I’ll wait outside. Clear the area.”
The women parted ways. Leila ventured through one corridor, another, studying the passing staff out of the corner of Her eye. Quickening Her pace, She headed into an adjacent hallway—empty—and Her destination materialized in Her thoughts.
Gelanor’s chamber.
The corridor burst into rays of light, leaving Her weightless. Soon the light faded, revealing brown walls, an umber rug—and Gelanor.
He sat on his bed with his back to Her, tugging feverishly at his cock. Cringing, She cleared Her throat.
Gelanor looked over his shoulder, then jumped. “Mother of—”
“You can finish, if you’d like.”
The old man fumbled to put his bits away. “Your Holiness…”
“Apologies for the interruption. I honestly didn’t expect to find you here so soon. Figured you’d be occupied with more important matters.” She watched him pull up his pants. “But apparently not.”
“What are You doing here?” he stammered. “How did… How did You get in?”
“The same way I’ve gotten in ea
ch time before.”
“Before?”
“I’ve been through this chamber many times.”
Gelanor’s expression turned bleak. “What do You want?”
Leila slid Her hand into the slit of Her dress, pulling Her blade from its place on Her thigh. “You and I are going to have a conversation.”
Wide-eyed, Gelanor sprang for the window with the energy of a man half his age. Leila flung Her blade at him, launching it straight into his shoulder.
Wailing, he toppled face-first to the floor.
Leila hovered over him, unimpressed. “Calm yourself. There are much more painful spots, I assure you.” She ripped the blade from his shoulder and waited for his cries to die. “Are you ready for that conversation?”
When Gelanor said nothing, She held Her blade low, making sure he caught sight of its bloody edge. His eyes widened. “Yes, we can talk. Just don’t—”
“Hurt you? I’ll try My best.” She tugged at his arm, trying and failing to get him standing, then cocked Her head at a nearby chair. “Sit.”
With a whimper, Gelanor pulled himself up. Once he was seated, Leila yanked his sheets from his bed, twisting them like rope and wrapping them around his ankles.
“Oh my God.”
Her head perked up. “Is there a problem, Senator?”
Gelanor went quiet, and Leila continued Her work, tying his legs to the legs of the chair, his wrists to the armrests.
“It’s You,” Gelanor said. “All the Senators gone missing… It’s You.”
“How very astute you are.”
“I don’t understand. You’re just…killing us? One by one?”
“It seems you understand perfectly.”
“Have You gone mad?”
“Well, it’s not as though you’ve left Me any choice,” She scoffed. “You’ve imprisoned Me in My own home, have taken all My authority, and now that you’ve properly picked Me apart, you wait for Me to die—hover over My body like a flock of vultures. And on top of that, you leave Me with no political means of disbanding you all. You’re here to stay, and I have no say in the matter. If I can’t cast you out through legal means, then surely I must cast you out through death.”
Gelanor didn’t speak, his eyes darting between Leila and Her blade.
“I imagine you’re wishing you had revoked that law earlier today,” She said.
“I can do that for You. We can go right now—”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I think I prefer it this way, to be honest.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “You twisted bitch.”
“I’m twisted? Me?” She laughed. “You conspired to kill My mother. You conspired to kill Me when I was just a child. And now you plan My death yet again. You long to steal My realm from My line, and you do it all at the expense of My people—people who are healthy and prosperous because of Me. And I’m the twisted one for burying My blade into your throats? You understand, My duty, My birthright, is to purge this realm of sickness and evil. And I have found the foulest evils in My very own palace. In people like you.”
“It’ll never work, whatever You’re doing. Brontes’s network is vast, his plan extensive—far beyond what You know, what I know—”
“Of course. Why do you think he’s still alive?”
“You are The Savior,” he said. “A woman of light and purity. Not of…murder.”
“Senator, I was born in death. You and your men made it so.”
The Senator went silent, his mouth hanging open stupidly.
“You’re going to answer a few questions for Me,” She said.
“If You’re to kill me, why should I answer anything?”
Leila slammed Her blade into the Senator’s hand, nailing it to its armrest. He howled in agony, but Leila was immune to the sound. To the blood.
“A large sum of coin has been transferred from the vault. Where is it going?”
The man moaned, squirming in his restraints, but he said nothing. She ripped the blade from his hand, sending him reeling again. “Where is My coin?”
“How do You know any of this? You’re not permitted in the vault.”
“For My own good, yes? You know, if I was allowed to access My own coin, I wouldn’t be standing here. Do you see the trouble you’ve put upon yourself?”
Tears dribbled down Gelanor’s face. She tapped Her foot. “The coin. Where is it going?”
Silence.
She thrust Her blade toward his other hand.
“Wait!”
The steel tip grazed his wrinkled flesh. Her eyes panned to his.
“Three men,” he said. “He’s using the coin to pay three men.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but they’re of an…unsavory disposition. He aims for them to move against you. In the tournament, somehow.”
“Somehow?”
“I don’t know his methods, I just know…” He sucked in a shallow breath. “I just know what I’ve already said. There’s three of them, they’re working within the Sovereign’s Tournament…and none of it’s good for You.”
Tendrils of swampy-green oozed from his flesh, filling the space around him—the color of his terror.
“There’s been a slow trickle of coin leaving the vault for some time now,” She said. “Where’s it going?”
He faltered. “I don’t know.”
“You’re the Vault Keeper. You expect Me to believe that?”
“Brontes is handling those funds exclusively. He won’t talk. It’s very… It’s very private, he says.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No,” he spat. “Your Holiness, no, I swear it.”
She lunged forward, grabbing his face hard and tight.
“Your Holiness, please, I’ve told You all I know,” he said. “All of it. I’m utterly useless to You now. Have mercy. I’ll put this treachery behind me, I swear it.”
She tightened Her grip, and putrid green spilled from his pores. Each emotion carried a color, and his, like every other man of his kind, was repulsive. She studied his rotten hue—the fear of a man who had played his cards. Who had nothing left to give.
“Please, I’ve told You everything,” he stammered. “I’m useless.”
Leila hesitated, then dropped Her hand. “I believe you.”
He let out a relieved breath. “Thank You, Your Holiness. Thank You.”
She slammed Her blade into his throat.
Blood poured from his neck, saturating the front of his tunic. As his life drifted away with the river of red, his eyes locked with Hers.
Leila frowned. “Oh, don’t give Me that look. After all, you are useless to Me.”
His stare went vacant, his body an empty vessel. Yanking Her blade from his flesh, Leila called over Her shoulder.
“Delphi, I’ve made another mess. Help Me clean it up, would you?”
2
The Birthday
“Happy birthday, Your Holiness!”
Leila nodded at the servant and hurried up the marble steps. Purple ribbons wrapped the staircase bannisters, and ornamental gold stars hung from the ceiling. The palace looked lovely, as it did on each of Her birthdays, but this year the opulence was off-putting.
“Happy birthday!”
Another nod, and She abandoned the stairs, heading down one of the many corridors. More smiles, more kind wishes. She should’ve felt honored, but instead She wondered who was celebrating Her life and who was anticipating Her death.
A door appeared before Her, and She shoved it open. “Cosima, I…”
She staggered to a halt. Two bodies entwined, naked save for a sheet shared between them. Cosima’s fair skin and fiery hair were instantly discernable, as were those tan arms and that shaggy, golden-blond mane.
“Oh God.”
Asher’s lips tore from Cosima’s. “Your Holiness.” Stumbling from the bed, he clutched a sheet to his nethers and kneeled. “Apologies for the improper circumstances.”
Cosima laughed. �
��Oh, Asher, it’s just Leila. She doesn’t mind.”
“I didn’t know You were coming,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Leila muttered.
“If I had known—”
“Just go.”
“Of course, Your Holiness.” He grabbed his clothes from the floor. “Good day, Your Holiness.” He rushed away, leaving Leila with a glimpse of his bare ass before he slammed the door.
“Did You see that?” Cosima chuckled. “He just scampered off with one of my bed sheets. What a loon, I swear. What are You doing here, anyhow?”
“You summoned Me.”
“Is that right? Oh my, I completely forgot. I can’t even remember the reason for it, I feel so foolish. The matter must’ve slipped my mind in the heat of the moment.”
Leila said nothing, Her cheeks burning.
“Are You all right?”
“I’m fine,” Leila mumbled.
“You’re not upset, are You? About me and Asher. You said You weren’t seeking his affection. I assumed You wouldn’t mind.”
Her gut coiled. “I’m not upset.”
“I assure You, it was just the one time. Well, a few times in one night, but never again.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Cosima smiled. “Of course, what was I thinking? You’re not the type for such dramatics. You’re bigger than that. A true woman.”
The knot in Leila’s gut pulled tighter, and She headed for the door.
“Leila?”
She glanced over Her shoulder, met by Her sister’s smile.
“Happy birthday, dove.”
Leila left without a word, holding Her chin high with a confidence that felt fraudulent. She reached a chamber a short distance away, where Delphi was curled up along the cool blue linens of her bed reading over a scroll.
“You’re alone? That’s unusual.” Leila’s voice broke once She spotted feet poking out from beneath the room divider. “Oh. Spoke too soon.”
“Leila!” A servant girl popped out from behind the divider, still tying her dress into place. “Happy birthday!”
Leila mustered a smile. “Thank you, Shae.”
“You’re twenty! A grown woman!” Shae squealed, pinching Leila’s cheeks. “Today is going to be the best day. We’re all so excited for You.” She headed for the door. “I’m off now. Happy birthday!”
As Shae disappeared, Leila turned to Delphi. “I thought she liked men.”