by Jenna Moreci
Wiping the sweat from his chest, She took in his wretched state. “They’re saying this tournament is the most savage yet. That the challenges are to get worse. Sovereign’s orders.”
“I suspect he’s looking for the strongest man for his daughter,” Tobias said. “That he wants Her protected, since he couldn’t protect Her mother.”
Leila clenched Her jaw. “I suspect it’s something else entirely.”
“Can I kiss him now?” Pippa still sat at Leila’s side wearing an impatient grin.
“Pippa, run along,” Leila said. “He needs his rest.”
Giggling, Pippa darted away, the sweetness spoiled by another wave of sickness. Leila rested Her hand back on Tobias’s forehead.
Strength and peace.
“Pippa.” Tobias’s gaze floated Leila’s way. “That’s her name?”
“Yes.”
“And what is yours?”
“You asked Cosima the same thing yesterday. Is this a theme?”
“Apologies, I didn’t realize it was a crime to ask who I’m speaking to.”
She forced back a scowl. “Leila.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Leila. I’m—”
“Tobias.” His scroll appeared in Her thoughts. She nearly smiled. “Goodness.”
“Goodness?”
“That’s what your name means. Goodness.”
“And what does Leila mean?”
She tensed. “Darkness.”
“Your name means darkness? Your parents must be horribly depressing.”
His words prodded at Her, wounding Her pride. She thought to rebut but was distracted by his nose—inflamed and red, as if he had suffered a blow.
“Is it broken?” he mumbled.
“I don’t know, let’s see.” She pinched the swollen mess only for him to cry out in pain. “Yes, it’s broken.”
Her self-satisfaction was short-lived, ruined by his pained panting. She plucked a perfume vial from Her satchel. “Here. This will help.” Light tickled Her fingers as She dabbed the bridge of his nose. Ease the pain.
“You and your potions,” he teased.
“Are you going to question my work too?”
“No. I trust you.” Grunting, he lifted his arm, curling his hand into a limp fist. Faint scars crisscrossed his knuckles, ones that had been bloody just days ago. “You’re good at what you do.” He dropped his arm to his side. “It’s a shame I didn’t meet you sooner.”
“And why is that?”
“My sister,” he said. “She could’ve used a healer like you.”
“Oh? There are plenty of fine physicians in the realm, I’m sure.”
“No one fine enough to fix a broken spine. Do you have a potion for that?” His eyes flitted away. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
The pair fell silent. Tobias went rigid in Her lap, and Leila’s heart sank as blackness wisped from his flesh.
“Is she alive?”
Tobias stared at nothing. “From the waist up.”
“She’s lucky.”
“How do you figure? Because she lived?”
“Because she has you. She has goodness. And that is a blessing.”
His gaze shot back to Hers, though the bite behind it had disappeared.
Leila looked away. “Of course, the tournament has only just begun. You have plenty of time to prove me wrong—to turn your name to shit.”
A laugh escaped him, and Leila started, glancing between his dark cloud and his full grin. “A smile? On your face? That’s a rare occurrence.”
“I smile. Sometimes.”
“Ah yes, I remember. Your laughing fit at the First Impressions. You got yourself into trouble.”
“You got me into trouble.”
Leila faltered. “Excuse me?”
“Your faces. While they asked their questions. Your faces were priceless.”
“You were laughing at me?”
Tobias gazed up at Her, dissolving into another fit. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” She hesitated. “Am I doing it now? The faces?”
“No, it’s just, you look surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“Well, what were you expecting?”
“I was expecting you to be watching Cosima,” She said.
His laughter died, a blank stare plastered across his face.
“Is he awake?” Flynn called out from across the sanctuary, startling Leila. She gave him a nod, and he responded with wild cheering.
“He’s been asking about you, you know.” Leila gestured toward Flynn and his circle of comrades. “Have you made friends?”
Tobias mustered a shrug. “I suppose I have.”
Leila took in Flynn’s smug smirk, his haughty posture, and the bandages wrapping his chest. “He’s a handful. Arrogant too. But he has a charm about him. Sometimes.”
“I imagine you could describe all the Lords in that fashion.”
She snorted. “Zander? Maybe. But the others? Charming they are not.”
“Is that so? Not even Beau? He seems to have charmed Cosima.”
“And it’s a good thing. He would’ve never survived today’s challenge.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You know why,” She scoffed. “The man has shit for brains. He could’ve taken detailed notes on how to prepare that antidote, and still he would’ve ended up drinking his own piss instead of the ox’s.”
Tobias burst into laughter, only to wince. “God, no more. It hurts to laugh.”
Leila fought back a stubborn smile. “I won’t say another word.”
“No, don’t do that.”
His order halted Her, and his prying stare sent Her cheeks swirling with heat.
“You know, I have a theory about you,” he said. “And the rest of the court.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“You’re all spies.”
“Spies?” Tension shot up Leila’s spine. “Is that so?”
“You’re gathering information about us. For Cosima.”
Her muscles loosened. “And where would you get an idea like that?”
“Delphi,” he said matter-of-factly. “She knows everything about everyone. And you seem to have us all memorized already.”
“Memorized?”
“You call everyone by name. Hansel, Bjorne, Zander. I haven’t a clue who you’re speaking of half the time.”
“Yes, well, when you’re lancing pustules and stitching wounds, you learn a thing or two about the people they’re attached to.”
“Still, I’ve spent much more time with these men than you, and I’m forced to rely on their laurels.”
Leila grimaced. “I refuse to rely on the laurels.”
“For what reason?” Tobias said. “Because they’re trite? Silly?”
“Because they’re dehumanizing.”
Leila’s voice came out hard, Her latent hatred roused, threatening to bubble over—to break through the composure She’d been fighting to maintain.
“When the first man was killed in the labyrinth, Wembleton announced it to the realm. He said, ‘Today, a man has fallen. Let us honor the Jester, for he died a hero in the Sovereign’s Tournament,’ and the people cheered.” She scowled. “I imagine the reaction would’ve been quite different if he had told the truth. That Isaac was beaten to death. That he was murdered.”
Red glinted in Her periphery—one of Qar’s rings peeking from Her satchel. She slid Her fingers over its polished stone.
“Wembleton made the same announcement for Fabian, for Milo, for Lucian and Hansel. And the people cheered—for the Farmer, and the Benevolent, and the Cetus, and the Poet. Nameless beings, as if they were characters from folklore. Well, I prefer to see you all as you are: men. With names, with families…” She glanced at Tobias. “With sisters.” She took in the crumbling cracks splintering through the wall. “The masses can remain ignorantly blissful if they please. But I’d rather liv
e my life with my eyes open.”
A sting pierced Her palm—Qar’s ring dug into Her flesh, wrapped tightly in Her fist. She tossed the jewel into Her satchel and turned to Tobias, only to find him watching Her intently. Her cheeks burned. “Well then, it seems as though I’ve ruined a perfectly lighthearted conversation.”
“You’ve done no such thing.”
“You’ve become awfully quiet.”
“I was listening. Your words are quite comforting.”
“Oh?” She let out a nervous laugh. “I speak of death, and you’re comforted?”
Tobias studied Her. “It’s nice. Knowing I’m not the only one.”
“The only one?”
“With my eyes open.”
The phrase struck Her like a blow. Her mind raced, questioning his meaning, until She met his gaze—calm. Kind.
“You’re right,” She said. “We’re spying.”
“I knew it.”
There it was again—that enchanting laughter, filling Her up like sweet wine. “I trust you’ll keep this between you and I.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Leila reveled in the small wonders of the moment—Tobias’s head in Her lap, his steady breathing, and the fluttering of Her insides each time he looked Her way.
Cringing, he groaned. “God, I feel terrible.”
“What is it?” Leila planted Her hand on his forehead. “Are you in pain?”
“No, it’s just, I’m remembering,” he said. “The challenge… All those frogs…”
“You’re upset about the frogs?”
“There were so many of them. All beheaded. It was a massacre.”
Leila burst into giggles, and Tobias shot Her a mocking frown. “You don’t understand. You weren’t there.”
His frown faltered, giving way to a grin Leila couldn’t help but mirror. “Yes, well, if you struggle with the death of frogs, I fear you’ll find the remainder of this tournament quite hard to endure,” She said.
“I suppose I’m not cut out for this competition.”
“Maybe you’ll surprise yourself. Maybe goodness will prevail, yes? Wouldn’t that be a nice change?”
Tobias didn’t respond, but those large, black eyes were still gazing at Her, muddling Her nerves. She looked away, if only to steady Herself, taking in the air around them. His dark cloud had disappeared, however long ago, She wasn’t sure.
He furrowed his brow. “Why are you still here with me? You must have others to tend to.”
Her palm burned against his flesh, Her light undulating through him. “They’re my potions. I’ll use them how I please.”
“Well, you’ll hear no complaints from me. Your lap is quite comfortable. I could lie here all day if you’d let me.” He chuckled. “I’m only teasing.”
The heat of Leila’s face rivaled that of Her power, as Her thoughts wandered to fantasies She had no business entertaining.
“You’re a good person,” Tobias said.
“What makes you say that?”
“For helping me forget a little bit. About how much it hurts. That’s why you’re staying with me, right?”
She nearly smiled—until Qar tore through Her mind.
Murderer.
“You’ve caught me once again.”
“I’m wise to your secrets, Leila. You can’t fool me.” Tobias stopped short, letting out a yawn that turned into a grimace. “God, yawning hurts too.”
“You can sleep if you’d like.”
“Unacceptable. If you’re stuck with me, then I ought to be as good of company as possible. Mark my words, by the end of this day, I will be your favorite patient.”
He poked Her in the ribs, and She relished his touch, however brief.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Tiny slips of parchment covered Her bed like wilted petals, an organized mess of smeared ink and water stains. Leila read the crumpled notes as She had a hundred times already—a detailed map of Her demise.
“My wedding night. I’m to be killed on My wedding night.”
Delphi stood at Her side, gaze flitting over the notes. “They don’t say how.”
“I don’t think they care about the how so long as it’s done.”
Some of the notes were written with care, others were scribbles about marriage and murder. She had tried to count the different handwriting styles but stopped once She noticed Her father’s.
“Over there.” She pointed to the corner of the spread. “Those are the plans for the ceremony. Antaeus, Drake, and Kaleo are already prepped for the proceedings. Looks as though they find Kaleo most promising. Probably because he’s the most handsome.”
“Probably because he’s the most heinous,” Delphi muttered.
“The job will be taken care of that night, in our marriage bed.”
“So strange.” Delphi kneaded her chin. “Brontes is to have You killed after You’re wed. That means the crown is no longer his. Married away.”
“I imagine that’s the point. It eliminates his motive, removes him from suspicion. None of this works if the people hate their Sovereign.”
“Their former Sovereign.”
“He’ll take the crown back. I’m sure of it. That’s his goal, after all—to sit on the throne alone.”
Delphi’s gaze didn’t leave the spread. “It’s a flawed plan at best. All this work just to kill You? There has to be an easier way.”
“I’m sorry, are you trying to help him or Me?”
“I’m just saying, is he really this obtuse, or are we missing something?”
Leila gestured toward a pile of discarded slips, too stained to be legible. “Perhaps they filled in the missing pieces. They’re useless now.”
“Well, this is good news,” Delphi said. “I mean, as good as it gets given the circumstances. Your assassination is a month away. That means we have the rest of the tournament to uncover Your father’s network—”
“And kill them.”
“Right. So we strategize, slit a few throats, then off with Your father’s head. Simple, really. We can manage.”
Still Leila eyed the notes, taking in blips of the vultures’ plan. Win. Marry.
Murder.
“All right, what’s next?” Delphi planted her hands on her hips. “Your assassins? There’s a number of ways we can end them. They could fall in the tournament, though I don’t see how any of the other men could rival them. But perhaps if they banded together…”
Delphi’s words faded behind Leila’s overflowing anxieties, enough to drown in. All She needed was a single life-giving breath, and so She lost Herself in simpler thoughts, chuckling as the chaos of Her mind slipped away.
“What are You giggling about?” Delphi’s voice tore through Her respite.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s nothing. Tobias—he said something about the last challenge. All the beheaded frogs—said it was a massacre, and he made this face.” She pursed Her lips, attempting to mimic him. “You had to have been there, I can’t duplicate it. But you would’ve laughed, I swear it.”
Delphi smirked, and Leila’s face dropped. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just enjoying seeing You giddy over a man.”
“Giddy?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m hardly giddy. We’re friends, is all. Am I not allowed to make friends?”
Delphi raised an eyebrow. “You’re friends?”
“Yes! He has a delightful personality.”
“And what of his warm skin, his sculpted build, and his dark, mysterious eyes? Are they not delightful as well?”
“Well you’re awfully superficial.” Leila circled Her bed, picking up the notes. “I hadn’t noticed any of that.”
“Horse shit. You’re a terrible liar,” Delphi said. “You should know, I’ve felt his hair. It’s rather soft.” She trailed behind Leila, cooing in Her ear. “But his body is hard.”
“Delphi.”
; “It’s something for You to imagine at night…when Your hands are exploring Your womanhood.”
“Delphi!”
“You can pretend Your hands are his!”
“Mark My words, I will end you.”
The door flung open, and Cosima barreled inside, flopping onto the bed. “He is divine!”
“He is not,” Leila spat.
Cosima wrinkled her nose. “Who are You talking about?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“The Adonis.” Cosima chuckled. “Denser than lead, but my is he a gorgeous creature. Quite skilled with his tongue too.”
Leila gasped, while Cosima playfully waved Her away. “Don’t be vulgar, we just kissed. Well, he kissed me.” She winked. “In various places.”
Delphi rolled her eyes, and Cosima shot her a glower. “Do you have the slightest idea how many dream of bedding a god of the Sovereign’s Tournament? I’ve been given the rarest of opportunities. I’m certainly not going to waste it.”
“But the Adonis?” Delphi snorted. “The man has nothing but air between his ears.”
“I’m not particularly concerned about what’s between his ears.”
The two squabbled while Leila retrieved the remaining notes, Her hands filled with parchment—fistfuls of Her death. She cleared Her throat. “Excuse Me.”
She wasn’t sure if they heard Her, but She left Her chamber anyway, shoving the slips into Her pocket.
Asher greeted Her outside Her door, his expression as stiff as his armor. He bowed. “Leila.”
A huddle of men stood farther down the corridor—Kastor, Wembleton, and Brontes, who was glaring right at Her.
“Are You all right?” Asher said.
Leila didn’t respond, heading off in the other direction and leaving the guard and Her father behind. It had been a full day since She battled Qar, and unlike Her other marks, she hadn’t time to dispose of the body. No doubt he’d been discovered by now, and the thought alone turned the notes in Her pocket to boulders.
Upon reaching Her study, She dumped the parchment into a bowl and set fire to them with Her desk candle. The slightest weight lifted as the slips blackened, but their words were already ingrained in Her mind, as was Her father’s stare.
Her cloak and satchel hung over Her chair, beckoning. She gnawed at Her lip, glancing between the notes turning to ash and the invitation in front of Her.