The Savior's Sister

by Jenna Moreci

  “Were we not finished here?”

  “It’s fine. You can go,” Leila said.

  Once Cosima flitted from the room, Delphi turned to Leila, her lips pursed. “I’m still wary of this plan.”

  “Well, unless you voice another soon, it’s the only one we’ve got.” Leila flipped through the parchment, grimacing. The Farmer. The Artist. She shoved the stack away. Useless.

  “The assassins…” Delphi drummed Her fingers along the table. “Have You any clue who they are?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Perhaps Your little friend would know more.”

  Leila’s head perked up. “I could ask.”

  The slightest smile formed on Delphi’s lips, and Leila couldn’t help but mirror the sentiment. Delphi’s eyes panned to the mess on the table. “Oh hell, the girls left their cards.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Leila shuffled the cards into stacks and dumped them into Her pocket, abandoning the room soon after.

  Perhaps Your little friend would know. If anyone knew anything, it’d be him.

  The atrium appeared, Leila’s birthday ribbons intact. She zeroed in on a bowl of peaches in the center of the table, snatching up two before continuing through the palace. The door to the Senate room loomed ahead, and She slipped inside.

  The room was empty. She walked past the round table, grabbing a scroll at random and plopping down onto the window seat. With rehearsed efficiency, She dug into one of Her peaches, Her eyes on the parchment, then slid Her foot along the floor, grazing the tiles until one of them shifted.

  Found you.

  She scooted the loose tile aside, revealing a hole plunging underground, and dropped Her uneaten peach into the abyss—a gift for Her friend—before kicking the tile back into place.

  “Your Holiness.”

  Leila flinched as Wembleton appeared, his hands resting on his belly. “I didn’t expect to find You here,” he said.

  Leila resisted the urge to glance down at the loose tile. Hopefully She’d receive a response soon. “I’m just reading up on…” She eyed Her decoy scroll, “…Thessen’s history of coin and accounting.”

  “Fascinating literature.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Wembleton forced a chuckle. “Well, I’m glad I’ve found You. I was tasked to report to You the day’s results.”

  “Results?”

  “Yes. Of the tournament.”

  Leila turned to the window behind Her. The sun was already setting, the day gone in an instant. She’d been too distracted to notice.

  “As Master of Ceremonies, I’m required to announce the happenings of each day’s events to Your great realm,” Wembleton said. “And to You as well, naturally, as these men belong to You.”

  “They don’t belong to Me, they’re not…linens or jewels.”

  He cleared his throat. “The competitors spent their first day navigating the labyrinth, a perilous obstacle course indeed. Horrors awaited them deep underground, testing their bravery, reminding them to respect and obey—”

  “I know what the labyrinth is.”

  His smile waned. “We can make these meetings brief. I’ll just cover the basics: winners, losers, casualties—”

  “Casualties?” The word hit Her like a fist. “Someone’s died already?”

  “Today, we honor the Jester, the Farmer, and the Benevolent, for they died as heroes in the Sovereign’s Tournament.”

  “Three men died today?”

  “Yes, Your Holiness.”

  Leila set aside Her peach and parchment, trying to digest Wembleton’s words. “Three men. On the first day.” Her eyes narrowed. “How?”

  “I beg Your pardon?”

  “How did they die?”

  “The most honorable of deaths,” he said. “Fighting for Your affection.”

  “Tell Me how, Wembleton. That is an order.”

  Wembleton fussed with his flashy drapes. “The Jester was the first to…expire. He received an injury to the head.”

  “What kind of injury?”

  “Your Holiness, these details are rather gruesome, and for a delicate woman such as Yourself—”

  “Now.”

  Wembleton cowered. “It looked like repeated blows to the skull.”

  “Blows? What sort of obstacle would do something like that?”

  Wembleton continued his fidgeting, his gaze darting to the window, the shelves. “I’ve been told it wasn’t an obstacle, rather…a fist.”

  “You’re telling me the Jester was beaten to death? By another competitor?”

  “I’m sure he did it in the name of love.”

  Fire flooded Leila’s veins. “Who was it?”

  “I wasn’t there, Your Holiness. The only witnesses are deep underground.”

  Leila clenched Her jaw. She didn’t need confirmation. She already knew the answer. “The next death. How did it happen? And I require specifics.”

  Wembleton stared up at the ceiling. “The Farmer was…impaled through the mouth by a rather large thorn. It’s possible he fell at a very unfortunate angle…or he could’ve been shoved.”

  “Shoved. Of course. And the final man?”

  “Ah, the Benevolent was most certainly killed by an obstacle. He stumbled in its path and was crushed to death.”

  Leila raised an eyebrow. “He stumbled. Into an obstacle.”

  “Precisely.”

  Sighing, She rubbed Her temples. “Could he have been pushed?”

  “Well…”

  Leila’s jaw tightened. “Wonderful. There are murderers in the labyrinth.”

  “Not murderers, fierce warriors. Fighting in the name of—”

  “Love, yes, I heard you,” She said.

  “The remaining competitors are resting in the sanctuary. Tomorrow, they spend another day navigating the most glorious—”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  Wembleton scurried away, and for that Leila was grateful. The loose tile rattled under Her foot; Her gift sat beneath it, but there wasn’t time to wait for an answer. Three men were dead, and the tournament had only just begun.

  I’m going into the labyrinth.

  Light burst through Her vision, and She stood in a familiar chamber staring at the setting sun through the window. Delphi lay across her bed flipping through scrolls, while Cosima and Pippa sat at her desk tinkering with a line of perfumes.

  “I want to wear this one,” Pippa said. “And this one. And this one…”

  Delphi looked up from her parchment, starting. “Leila, You sneak.” She laughed. “I do adore Your presence, but You’d be wise to avoid shadow walking into my chamber late in the day. I might be occupied, if You understand my meaning.”

  Leila ignored her, flinging her wardrobe open and digging through its contents. Delphi furrowed her brow. “What are You doing?”

  “What’s My schedule for the rest of the evening?”

  “Free as a bird, why?”

  “I’m going into the labyrinth, and I’m going now.”

  “Now?” Delphi stood. “Leila—”

  “Three competitors were killed today.” Leila pushed aside dresses, searching through them. “And not by obstacles. By other men.”

  “You think it was the assassins?”

  “I need to see them.” Leila pulled a black cloak from the wardrobe. “I need to know what I’m up against.”

  “I’ll come with You,” Delphi said.

  “If You require The Savior for this endeavor, I can tag along,” Cosima added.

  “Thank you both, but I’m certain it’d look rather odd if The Savior and Her entire court disappeared on the same evening. No, you stay behind. If anyone asks for Me, I’m…somewhere. Think of something.” Throwing the cloak over Her shoulders, She spun toward Delphi. “Do you have a satchel I can borrow?”

  Delphi nodded at her room divider where a brown servant’s satchel was hanging. Snatching it up, Leila scanned the room. What would a healer carry? She shouldered past Cosima, kno
cking the line of perfumes into Her satchel.

  Pippa frowned. “Those were mine!”

  “Apologies, but Sister needs these.”

  “And why exactly does Sister need perfumes in the labyrinth?” Delphi said.

  “I’m the Healer. These are my tonics.”

  “You think the men are stupid enough to fall for that?”

  “They were stupid enough to enter, weren’t they?” She looped the satchel over Her shoulder. “How do I look?”

  “Lose the jewels.”

  “Oh. Right.” Leila tore off Her armlets, then turned to Delphi’s mirror. The long, black cloak concealed most of Her ghostly flesh, the satchel around Her plain, ordinary. Sure, Her indigo dress was lovely, but without the jewels it could perhaps pass as simple, maybe common. How do common folk even dress?

  “All right. I suppose I’m ready.”

  “I’m ready too!” Pippa sprang to Leila’s side.

  Leila sighed. “Little duckling, you can’t come with Me.”

  Pippa’s face dropped. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s very dangerous.”

  “But I want to help. Everyone else is helping.”

  “That’s kind of you, but—”

  “I can help just like Delphi and Cosima. I can.” Pippa’s voice turned frantic. “I’ve been practicing my spelling. I know all the provinces of the realm in order. I know things. I can help just like them. Do You think I can’t? I can, I promise.”

  Pippa’s desperate gaze ripped Leila in two, leaving Her to glance around the room for assistance that never came. She spun toward Delphi. “Have you spoken to the servants? Do you know what the men have to eat?”

  “Water.”

  “Water?” Leila pushed past the surprise, grabbing Pippa’s hands. “Run to the kitchen and grab some treats. You’ll see to it that the men are properly fed. It’s a very important duty, the most important of all. Do you think you can handle it?”

  Pippa flew from the room, nearly stumbling over her feet as she vanished.

  Delphi eyed Leila over, visibly conflicted. “You’re really doing this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I can’t stop You.”

  “Why would you?” Cosima was slumped across the bed lazily glancing over Delphi’s scrolls. “The whole thing is utterly gripping. Savior by day, spy by nightfall.”

  “So, let me try to understand this,” Delphi said. “You’re going down into the labyrinth in search of Your assassins. You’re disguising Yourself as a sister to The Savior—”

  “And a healer,” Leila cut in. “That’s the most important part.”

  Delphi scowled. “And You’ll perpetuate this façade by…blessing the men?”

  “Blessing them? Of course not; that would expose Me. No, I’m just going to touch them.”

  “Touch them.”

  “Yes, My touch is healing enough. It does more good than any healer could.” Leila raised Her chin. “They’re lucky to have Me.”

  “Right. So You’ll touch them…” Delphi’s gaze drifted to Leila’s satchel, “…with Your perfume tonics.”

  “Yes.”

  Delphi cradled her face. “God…”

  “It’ll work. I’m certain.”

  Pippa rushed into the room, an olive-green cloak strewn over her back and a lumpy satchel in her arms. “I ran so fast. The fastest ever.”

  “Good girl.” Leila peeked into the satchel—apples and bread, certainly an improvement from water. “Come, let’s tidy you up.”

  She plucked a brush from Delphi’s desk and ran it through Pippa’s blonde tangles. It took a few strokes for the moment to become familiar. Visions of a much younger Pippa intruded into Her mind, a memory that shamed Her each time it returned.

  With her locks properly tied, Pippa spun toward Leila, shimmying her shoulders beneath her cloak. “Did You notice? We match!”

  As Pippa pranced toward the door, Leila forced the horrors from Her mind, grabbing hold of her sister. “No duckling, we’re not going that way. Hold My hand.”

  The two women stood side by side, Pippa grinning while Leila was fiercely focused. Delphi glanced between them, gnawing at the inside of her cheek.

  Leila frowned. “Oh, don’t look so sour. It’s not like I’m headed off to die.”

  The chamber morphed into rays of light, and a breeze wafted by, carrying the flowery scent of summer.

  Pink and purple painted the sky, the sun barely discernible over the horizon. Leila stood in a lush field miles from the palace, a fleeting freedom—until She caught sight of the fortress wall looming far ahead. Armored guards marched alongside it, mere specks in the distance, though they stirred Her nerves regardless.

  “Come.” She gave Pippa a tug. “Before we’re spotted.”

  The two rushed through the grass hand in hand. The approaching nightfall dimmed the glow of Leila’s skin, but still She pulled Her cloak over Her chest, desperate to remain unseen. The whisper of applause sounded from beyond the wall as Wembleton announced the day’s theatrics to the people.

  Three men are dead, and people are cheering.

  A gate punctuated the grass. Leila yanked at its lock, and when nothing happened, She stuck Her blade in the cylinder, rattling it until it opened. A grey stairwell plunged underground, and the light of the setting sun faded behind them as they reached their destination—a dead end, the path blocked by a wall of black, stacked bricks.

  Pippa frowned. “We’re stuck.”

  Leila’s eyes pierced through the darkness, scanning the walls around Her. There. A spot of red in the center of a single brick, shaped like a crown. Leila pointed its way, and Pippa strained her eyes.

  “Red paint?”

  Leila wavered. “Yes. Just paint.”

  She slammed Her fist against the crown, and the wall in front of them split in two, shifting apart brick by brick.

  Pippa gasped and clapped, but the majesty was lost on Leila. A wave of stench hit Her in the face. Must and decay. She plunged into the stink, holding tight to Pippa’s now-clammy hand.

  A wide tunnel made of black bricks stretched ahead of Her, lit by scant blazing torches. The space around them was empty and innocuous, but She didn’t let that fool Her. She had been through the labyrinth many times before, had studied its passageways, but now the air had shifted. Death lurked within these walls.

  “Little duckling, a word of warning,” She said. “This place is very dangerous.”

  Pippa’s gaze darted across the walls. “It’s dark.”

  “It is, and that’s why you mustn’t stray from My sight, do you understand?”

  Pippa offered a hasty nod. “It’s smelly down here. Where are we going?”

  “This place is called the labyrinth. It’s filled with traps and trials.” Leila kept Her voice soft as She scanned the darkness. “We’re headed to the sanctuary. All the men who navigated this tunnel are waiting there.”

  “They’re waiting all by themselves?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  Pippa frowned. “They must be lonely.”

  “Oh, they’re not lonely. Romulus comes to visit them each day.”

  “Romulus.” Pippa giggled. “He’s grumpy. I like him.”

  A pang shot through Leila’s gut, and She stared at the path ahead in silence.

  “Are these the men who are in love with You?”

  “They’ve come to seek My hand,” Leila said. “To become the next Sovereign.”

  “They want to marry The Savior. And make Savior babies.”

  Pippa’s words sent Leila to an abrupt stop. “That reminds me—when you’re down here, no calling Me by My title. Savior, Your Holiness, none of that. I’m just Leila, is that understood?”

  “Why?”

  “Because calling Me Leila is one of your very important duties. Also…” Leila shifted Pippa’s cloak, pressing Her hand to her décolletage, “…I’m blessing you with the gift of shadow walking.”

  “Magic! Oh, I’m so excit
ed!”

  “It’s not for play. It’s for your own protection.” Leila’s voice became stern. “These men here…they may look nice, but some of them are very bad.”

  “I like boys.”

  “I know that, but not all boys like us back.” She looked Pippa in the eye. “If anyone tries to hurt you, close your eyes really tight and imagine My chamber, and poof. You’ll be safe and sound, and I’ll come right after you. Is that understood?”

  Pippa nodded, and Leila’s touch turned fiery. Give her the gift. Let her walk in the shadows. Power pulsed from Her palm in ripples of heat, growing, intensifying, then dying away. She dropped Her hand, shaking out Her wrist.

  “It’s done,” She said. “Now no one can hurt you.”

  Pippa burst into a grey mist, disappearing from view. Materializing paces away, she giggled into her hands, then vanished into another cloud of ink, traveling farther and farther down the tunnel.

  Leila sighed. “Pippa, that’s not what it’s for.”

  “Let’s go meet the boys!” Pippa said. “We’re all going to be friends!”

  Leila rushed after her. Pippa’s laughter echoed off the walls, but soon it was accompanied by voices—male. A spot of light appeared at the end of the tunnel, and Leila hastened Her stride, watching the light grow larger.

  Blood caked the wall ahead of Her, dripping down the brick.

  “Little duckling, come close.” Leila ran to Pippa’s side, pulling her into Her chest and pointing at the distant glow. “Do you see that?”

  “Is that the sanctuary?”

  Leila eyed the remains as they passed. Entrails were fixed deep into the brick, and She shuddered. She was used to death, but not the innards that came with it.

  “Leila?”

  “Yes, that’s the sanctuary.” She guided Pippa past the blood, shielding her. “Be a good duckling. Follow My lead.”

  “Yes, Leila.” Pippa grinned. “I didn’t say Your title. See?”

  The tunnel ended just in front of them, giving way to a bleak room speckled with canvas tents, wooden benches, and water barrels. Bodies wove through the space, filling it with flesh.

  Men.

  Young, muscular, and shirtless, certainly more men in one spot than She had seen in Her lifetime, save for the guards. Fuck the guards. The moment was surreal, as if She alone had stumbled upon a mythical species. A wild herd of men.