by Jenna Moreci
“So then, oh humble sister of The Savior’s court,” Romulus said. “Who wins the reward?”
Protests lingered on Leila’s tongue, but She swallowed them down. “The Adonis. I suppose.”
“Oh, Leila, what a surprise!” Cosima stood from her seat, kissing Leila’s cheek. “Thank You, dove. I absolutely must prepare.”
She left with Pippa trailing close behind, and Delphi followed, growling under her breath. Only Leila and Romulus remained, glaring at one another through the rippling shield.
Romulus broke the quiet. “Shall I make the announcement?”
Leila ignored his question, Her mind churning. “What of the men?”
“Imbeciles.”
“Anything else?”
“Pungent imbeciles.”
“What of My assassins?” She said. “What do you know of them?”
“One is large, one is tattooed, and one is covered in many scars.”
“Dammit, Rom—”
“You have placed me as the Proctor of this tournament. You have put me down in this rank hole to keep Your charade a secret. I cannot be down here keeping Your secret and up there lending my ear to Your father at the same time.”
She clenched Her jaw. “The assassination. I need the date, the location—”
“I do not have those answers.”
“Then find someone who does,” She spat. “Make yourself useful to Me. You’re alive only for the sake of serving My cause.”
Red leaked through Romulus’s flesh, filling the room. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Make your announcement.”
He walked off with his red cloud, leaving Leila listless and alone.
7
The Marked One
Leila darted through Her chamber, loading Her satchel until it tugged at the seams. Fresh reeds, fortress maps, documents faded with age—anything that stood a chance of furthering Her cause. By the end of the day, She would be one step closer to ruining Her father. She just wasn’t sure how.
She threw open Her chamber door only to be met by Asher’s plucky voice. “Good day, Your Holiness—”
“For God’s sake, My name is Leila,” She said. “Call Me Leila.”
He faltered. “Pardon?”
“How many times do I have to tell you My name before you realize it’s what I prefer to be called? Or does My preference not at all matter to you?”
“Apologies, Your Holi—” He cleared his throat. “I was trying to be respectful.”
“If you wish to respect Me, treat Me as a person of thought and feeling, not as an object to worship. How would you feel if I called you guard each day in passing?”
Asher stared back at Her, perplexed. “I… I just…”
“Good day, Asher.”
With Her chin high, She marched off to Her study. She dropped Her satchel on Her desk and spread out its contents, stopping once She caught sight of the competitors’ records.
Tobias.
She plucked his scroll from the stack. Tobias Kaya. The Artist. Age: 21. Hair: brown. Eyes: black. The word REJECTED was splayed at the bottom with a harsh line drawn through it. Delphi’s work, no doubt. She flitted toward a shelf of parchment, snatched up a scroll, and scanned over its list of names. Titus, Tivadar, Tivon…
Tobias. Male. Meaning: goodness.
The door flew open, and Delphi tromped inside.
“Well, the dunce of an Adonis is greased up to Cosima’s liking. If she returns from her reward covered in oils, we’ll know what happened.” She plopped onto the couch. “I never would’ve signed on for this had I known it meant keeping up appearances. Into the labyrinth day after day? The stench is horrendous.”
Leila’s eyes remained on the scroll.
Goodness.
“Leila?”
She shoved the scroll back onto the shelf. “Did you learn anything? We never discussed your first visit.”
“I’m afraid I have little more than gossip. It’s clear Neil’s compensating for some supreme inadequacy. And two of the men are fucking. I’m certain of it. They wouldn’t stop making eyes at one another.”
“Nothing of value?” Leila took a seat at Delphi’s side. “Any men who could be of aid to us?”
“Perhaps.” Delphi sighed. “You were right; most of them are inept. And here they’re supposed to be the finest bachelors in all the realm. Which begs the question, is the system flawed, or is the rest of Thessen even worse? Can You imagine?”
“What about the assassins?”
“God, disgusting. Drake is a peculiar one. Refuses to speak. At first I found it unsettling, but after some time in his company I was glad for it. Then there’s Antaeus, an idiot who can’t seem to shut up. Why is it the imbeciles who always run their mouths? It’s as though they want the whole world to know of their stupidity.”
“And what of Kaleo?”
Delphi’s face dropped. “Have You had a conversation with him?”
“Not really, no.”
“Don’t.”
“Why? Is he that awful?”
Delphi was quiet for a long while. “Mother used to tell me stories of the oddities she witnessed as an herbalist, a midwife. There was one man in particular she said she’d never forget. There was nothing wrong with him—nothing that could be seen with the naked eye, at least. But she said he was the sickest creature she’d ever met. Had a disease of the mind. There’s no name for it. She called it a rift. Said there was a hole in him. An empty spot where his feelings were supposed to be.”
“You think Kaleo has a rift?”
“I know it.”
A tremor rolled down Leila’s spine. “What about Tobias?”
“What about him?”
“What was your impression of him?”
Delphi smiled. “Special.”
“Details.”
“Kind. Intelligent,” Delphi said. “One of the few men who treated me as flesh and blood as opposed to a hole for his cock. Certainly no killer, he fears for his life. Most likely convinced he’ll die here.”
“You did as I asked, yes? Offered assistance?”
“I did.” Delphi tilted her head. “Are You looking to recruit him? Make him an ally in our endeavor?”
“What? No, why?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions about him,” Delphi said. “I’m just trying to understand Your purpose.”
“I need information for our plan. It’s all very relevant.”
Delphi smirked, and Leila’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that face for?”
“No reason.”
Leila shot her a scowl before gazing at Her shelf of scrolls. Goodness. Her scowl faded.
“I suppose You have no more need to visit the labyrinth,” Delphi said.
“Once more.”
Delphi furrowed her brow. “Why? We’ve gathered all there is to know.”
“Hardly. There’s still plenty to uncover. We haven’t a clue when My assassination is to take place, the location, or the means.”
“And You assume Kaleo and the others will, what? Disclose this to You?”
“When I’m down there, I’m healing those men. My light makes them stronger—strong enough to weaken the assassins, perhaps even defeat them.” Leila leaned in closer, eyes wide. “Don’t you see? Mingling amongst the men works in My favor.”
Delphi crossed her arms. “Is that right? And there’s no man in particular You wish to mingle with?”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re hinting at, but I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“Love, I’m all for You mingling with men—”
“It’s not like that—”
“But the labyrinth is dangerous. Drake, Antaeus, and Kaleo are dangerous.” Delphi took Her hand. “Stay above ground. At least the dangers here are familiar.”
A knock at the door sounded, followed by a face peeking in. “Your Holiness?” A servant girl came inside, bowing before handing a package to Leila. “For You.”
Leila examined it—a palm-
sized box wrapped with a violet ribbon. “What is this?”
“A belated birthday gift,” the servant said.
“From who?”
“I’m not certain. It only just arrived. There was no note.”
Leila’s gut twisted. “Thank you.”
Once the servant left the room, Delphi hovered over Leila’s shoulder, glaring at the gift. “Don’t open it. I don’t trust it.”
Bracing Herself, Leila shook the package, then unraveled the ribbon.
“God, You never listen to me,” Delphi muttered.
Slowly, She opened the box, and both sisters peered inside.
Delphi wrinkled her nose. “It’s a ring?”
A thick gold setting with florid carvings, a massive ruby in its center. This wasn’t any ring—Leila had seen it before, could perfectly envision its owner stroking it like a pet.
“It’s Qar’s,” She said.
“Why would Qar send You one of his rings?”
“He wouldn’t.”
She pulled out the piece of shimmering gold, and the ruby rattled, loose in its setting. She pried the gem from the ring, revealing a hollowed compartment holding a folded strip of parchment—a note boasting Romulus’s scrawled handwriting.
Am I useful now?
Conviction surged through Her, fiery and alive. She studied the golden setting and its hidden chamber. Were all his rings like this?
“Qar’s the next mark. He’ll have answers.” Leila ripped up the note. “Or I suppose his precious stones will.”
She was already dashing across the chamber before Delphi could respond, dropping the ring into Her pocket and throwing Her cloak around Her shoulders. “You’ve seen the schedule, yes? Where’s Qar at this hour?”
“It’s midday. He’s training in the southern gardens, same as always.”
“Good.”
“Leila.”
Delphi’s sharp tone halted Her, along with her piercing gaze. “Qar is not an old man.”
“He’s forty-something.”
“He’s training,” Delphi maintained. “He’ll be armed. And he can fight.”
Leila’s hand went to Her blade. Not enough. She darted to Her desk, reaching beneath its center drawer and unfastening a long piece of sharpened steel.
A sword.
She tucked the weapon into Her belt. “So can I.”
“Leila—”
The room disappeared around Her, Her vision awash in green. She stood at the edge of the southernmost forest, far off from the palace and cloaked by the cover of leaves. The clang of steel sounded in the distance.
Qar.
He wove through the nearby garden, poised and at ease, laughing with his instructor amid their playful combat. His royal drape was gone, but his golden-stitched tunic was of the finest make, a beautiful rag for his sweat. And predictably, on each of his fingers was a jeweled ring.
Leila waited. Eventually the two men dropped their swords, exchanging pleasantries before the instructor left. Qar lingered behind, taking a seat on a bench as he polished his sword.
No servants. No onlookers. The time was now.
Leila stepped out of the foliage, Her head bowed and hood low. Qar stared down at his weapon, and She hoped to God he wouldn’t notice Her, wouldn’t feel Her stalking closer. Sliding Her fingers beneath Her cloak, She gripped the pommel of Her sword.
Qar flinched. “Your Holiness?”
God dammit.
“What a surprise. I do not believe I have ever seen You in the gardens at this time.” Smirking, he stood. “Or is it Your intention to be unseen? Are You trying to be discreet with that cloak? It would take considerable draping to stifle Your light.”
The sun was blazing, beating down on Leila and setting Her hands aglow. She hid them at Her sides, tempted to curse Her own flesh.
“Your Holiness—”
“I hear you have words for Me,” Leila said.
“Oh? Apologies, but I fear You are mistaken.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Your Holiness…” Qar’s voice faded as he followed the path of Her gaze to his hand—and his rings.
“Your stones are striking, I’d like to see them up close.” She squared Her shoulders. “Give them to Me.”
Qar said nothing, glancing between Leila and his rings.
Leila’s eyes narrowed. “Give them to Me.”
He bolted through the garden.
Leila sprinted after him, eyes trained on the back of his bald head. He zigzagged between manicured trees, traveling farther and farther away, his long stride his sole advantage. Bursting free from the garden, he sped into a nearby vineyard, and Leila gritted Her teeth.
Take Me to him.
The vineyard exploded around Her, Her vision filling with leaves, grapes—and Qar, who staggered to a halt in front of Her. He shot down an adjacent row.
Leila’s body filled with fire, and again She appeared in front of him, then beside him. Once more he skidded down a neighboring stretch of vines, and Her vision went white, fading to reveal Qar staring back at Her.
The Senator skidded to a stop. “The holy Queen has tricks.” He forced a laugh. “Your magic is greater than Your father knows. He will be displeased.”
Leila dropped Her cloak, revealing more of Her glowing flesh—and Her sword. “The rings.”
“Come now, You will hurt Yourself—”
She lunged forward, swinging Her sword with a force Qar barely dodged. “Underestimating Me does you no favors.”
Qar drew his weapon. “So now it is my turn, Your Holiness? You have come to kill me, like the others?”
“You could make this easier for yourself. Tell Me what you know. I’ll see to your end quickly. Or I can sever your fingers one at a time and read your secrets Myself.”
“Little girl, You are not as formidable as You believe Yourself to be.”
“I’ve heard that before. Many times. Then suddenly they’re choking on blood, and their words just fade away.”
A dance began in the vineyard. Qar brandished his weapon theatrically, but Leila was polished. Ready. You are small. Her training swept Her thoughts, visions of Talos, the dungeon, and countless wooden wasters. You are slight. Qar’s sword whipped toward Her, and She wove around it gracefully. Use Your size to Your advantage. Be lithe. Be agile.
Be better than them.
The crack of steel against steel echoed in Her ears. Qar staggered backward, colliding with a grapevine, his palpable fear feeding Her fury. She thrust Her weapon forward, again and again.
An ugly rip replaced the din of metal against metal.
Qar reached for his gut, clutching his slashed, red-stained tunic. “Alekbron lajnun, enough!”
“Hardly,” She scoffed. “You’re still alive.”
“You have made Your point. Now drop Your sword and show Your mercy.”
“I didn’t come here for mercy. I came for your rings.”
Qar barely evaded Her next jab, wielding his weapon with one hand, gripping his gut with the other. She made contact again, leaving another gash to match the first. They pivoted through the vineyard, painting the grapes red. Not once did Qar’s sword mark Leila’s body.
“When am I to be killed?” She whipped Her sword.
Qar madly searched for an escape, but Leila didn’t waver. “Who else is involved with Brontes?” Another jab. “The guards?” Another. “The servants?”
“God dammit, woman!”
She slammed Her sword against his. “There’s been a trickle of funds leaving the vault for some time now. Where is it going?”
“I said, enough!”
Qar forced Her off him, fleeing from the vineyard back into the garden. Gripping Her sword, She followed, Her hatred swelling, smothering all traces of Her light. Qar steadied himself on a bench, a pillar, leaving behind bloody handprints, and when he met Her gaze from over his shoulder, She broke into a sprint.
A primal battle between predator and prey waged within the garden. She bran
dished Her weapon with full force, swinging harder and faster, leaving Qar tattered and torn. He cried out as he nearly toppled into a marble fountain, and before he could gain his bearings, She thrust Her sword, blasting his from his hands.
The steel collapsed to the ground, and Leila pointed Her sword at his chest.
Qar stood like a statue, slack-jawed. “What kind of creature are You?”
“I am your Queen.”
“You are damned. My blood will never wash clean of Your hands.” His fists trembled. “You are forever marked. You are a murderer.”
She drove Her sword through his gut.
Qar choked, lips sputtering nothingness. Leila launched Her foot forward, kicking him from Her sword and sending him collapsing into the fountain.
The sound of trickling water floated through the air.
You are forever marked.
Blood swirled through the fountain, and the golden rings on Qar’s fingers sank beneath the water’s surface.
“Shit!”
She dashed toward the fountain, prying each ring from his knuckles. There wasn’t time to relish Her victory—She was in the open, and Qar’s dead body colored the waters red. Scanning the space, She darted back to the vineyard, plucking Her cloak from the ground before Her vision went white.
The plum walls of Her study formed around Her. Delphi was gone, and Pippa was curled up on the couch, reading a scroll and sounding out the words.
“What are these for?” Pippa asked.
Leila wiped Her sword clean before situating it beneath Her desk drawer. Nearing Pippa’s side, She peered at the scroll in her hands: the Hunter. “The competitors’ records?” She ripped the scroll away. “Where’d you get this?”
“Your desk.” Pippa grabbed another slip, pointing to the text. “What’s this?”
“Those are measurements of muscles.”
“And what’s this?”
“That’s the measurement of a very particular muscle.”
“What kind of—?”
“Pippa, these aren’t fables, you shouldn’t read these.” Leila snatched up the stack before Pippa could rebut, shoving the parchment in Her satchel. A jingle sounded from Her pocket, and She scooped up Qar’s rings.