The Savior's Sister

by Jenna Moreci

  “Well, now that puppy’s humping my leg, all thanks to you.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” She said.

  “It’s worse. It’s so much worse. He’s so annoying.”

  “What about Tobias?” Her heartbeat surged. “He seems nice.”

  “Oh no. I’m not taking any advice from you. You’re a bad judge of character.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He trudged off without another word, leaving Her gaping. Shaking off the surprise, She joined the group, flashing Raphael a glower before getting seated.

  “I’m telling you, Raph is cheating, the cards are lying, and I’ve had enough of this duplicity!” Flynn crossed his arms, pouting.

  “Why don’t we play something else?” Zander’s gaze flitted around the circle. “That way everyone’s happy.”

  “Not everyone.” Raphael met Leila’s glare with his own.

  “What about you.” Orion nudged Enzo in the ribs. “Any Kovahrian games you can teach us?”

  Enzo stroked his square chin. “Yes, yes. Games.” His voice came out hard, his accent heavy. Flicking his finger, he gestured toward Leila’s hip. “You take blade.” She wavered, reluctantly tossing Her blade his way. “Take hand.” He planted his hand on the ground. “Spread fingers.” He raised the blade high. “Then slam blade—”

  Orion snatched up the weapon, handing it back to Leila. “What about a different game?”

  Enzo nodded. “You take blade—”

  “Any games without a blade?” Orion said.

  “You take fist—”

  “What about a game that won’t leave one of us inevitably injured?”

  Enzo went quiet, his mind turning behind his eyes. “No.”

  Raphael rolled his eyes. “Artist. It’s your turn.”

  Tobias flipped one of the cards over, revealing a sword, then just as quickly flipped its counterpart. Leila bit Her lip. He’s clever too.

  “All right, as it stands, Tobias, Orion, and myself remain in the game,” Raphael recited without an ounce of enthusiasm. “Enzo, Zander, and Flynn are out.”

  “Seeing as the best among us are out, I’d argue that says more about the game than its players,” Flynn declared. “And is the most important game not the tournament itself? How’s that going for the lot of you, huh?”

  “’Bout the same as it’s going for you,” Orion said.

  “Please, I’m biding my time.” Flynn leaned back on his elbows. “Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Besides, I have experience on my side. Plenty of conquests under my belt. No need for details. I’ll spare your pride.”

  “And what about The Savior?” Orion raised a bushy eyebrow. “Are you going to boast when you conquer Her as well?”

  “Of course not. How offensive. Her Holiness is in an entirely different class than any other woman. They’re not even comparable.”

  Flynn’s words slapped Leila across the cheek. She sat tall, piqued.

  “Have some respect.” Tobias slugged Flynn’s arm. “You’re making an ass of yourself.”

  Flynn turned to Leila. “Please, you live with Her. You must know I’m right.”

  “I have it on good authority Her Holiness sees no woman as beneath Her.”

  He waved Her away. “Of course, She’s The Savior. She’s so good and kind. But just because She sees the world a certain way doesn’t make it so.”

  “I swear, how you ever got a single woman to fuck you is beyond me.” Shaking his head, Raphael shuffled the cards. “Your cock must be a mile long to compensate for the moments when you open your mouth.”

  Flynn winked. “A mile and a half.”

  “It’s average,” Leila spat.

  The circle silenced, all gazes panning Her way. “Come again?” Zander said.

  “His cock. It’s average. Not particularly long nor short. Just a regular cock.”

  Raphael glanced between Leila and Flynn. “How do you…?”

  “His records from the pool.” She glared at Flynn. “So the mystery of how he manages to get fucked is still at large, because his cock is no more impressive than any other man’s.”

  The group burst into laughter—save for Flynn, who sulked while the others wailed at his expense.

  As the men continued their game, pinpricks of pain stung Leila’s flesh. The throbbing of Tobias’s leg was potent enough to leak through him. She unraveled his dressing, dabbing the wound with perfumes and speaking in whispers.

  “Mend the flesh.”

  “Are you talking to yourself?”

  Leila froze. Tobias was staring right at Her.

  “What?” She said. “No.”

  “You most certainly were. I caught you.”

  “I was not.”

  He chuckled. “You little liar.”

  “How dare you—”

  “Don’t be cross with me. I’m not scared of you, or your pointy blade, or your vast knowledge of cocks. You can’t intimidate me.” Smiling, he nudged Her arm. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. We all talk to ourselves sometimes.”

  He turned to the game, and Her fear faded behind the beating in Her chest.

  Hours slipped by, but Leila stayed at Tobias’s side, lending him Her light as discreetly as She could manage. Perhaps She should’ve left by now, but everything around Her was new, a look into a life She would never live. Besides, this was Her final trip to the labyrinth, Her last chance to hear about Orion’s sleep talking, about how Caesar beats his cock each morning. And so She stayed, even as Enzo and Zander gave parting in a dense pink cloud, followed by Flynn, Orion, and Raphael, leaving one man remaining.

  “Do I have a fever?”

  Tobias’s voice carried through the sanctuary, soft and deep. She met his gaze, getting lost for a moment, then eyed Her hand—planted to his forehead, burning with power.

  “No.” She pulled away. “Apologies, I keep checking. It’s a habit, really. I must be driving you mad.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Blacks and blues littered his face. Scowling, She cupped his cheek. “God, look at you. Your nose…all bruised, even under your eyes.”

  “It doesn’t feel so bad.”

  The warmth of Her hand pulsed against his jaw. “Yes, well, you have that secret weapon.”

  She set Her attention on his thigh, undressing, then inspecting his stitches. Better, but not good enough.

  Mend the flesh.

  “Oh God, I am an absolute cock,” Tobias groaned.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve never thanked you.” He pointed wildly at his various injuries. “You’ve tended to my wounds, you stitched my leg, you fixed my nose—”

  “It’s far from fixed.”

  “Irrelevant. I should’ve said something sooner. Know that I normally have much better manners than this.”

  “Tobias—”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  Leila rewrapped his thigh, eyes locked on Her work. “You’re the only man here who’s thanked me. Who’s even asked my name. So if you think yourself a cock, understand there are thirteen men here more worthy of that title than you.”

  “There’s still no excuse.”

  The sanctuary was lifeless, the other men tucked away in their tents. The quiet was nagging, urging Her to utter the words She didn’t care to speak.

  “It seems everyone has turned in for the night. I should let you get to sleep.”

  “Oh, I won’t be sleeping,” Tobias said. “I never do. Not much, at least.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s hard to relax with these sorts close by. Giants. Dragons. Shepherds.”

  “Yes, I imagine you’d have to sleep with one eye open.”

  Silence. Leila fussed with Her satchel, biding Her time while the passing seconds pinched at Her.

  “You can leave if you’d like,” he said. “If you must. But don’t think you’re doing me any favors because of it.”

  “Would you prefer if I stayed?”

&n
bsp; “Only if you’d prefer it too.”

  You have matters to tend to—a whisper easy to ignore. “Come.” She hopped to Her feet. “We’ll go someplace else.”

  “Of course, since there are so many places to choose from.”

  “There are more than you’d think.”

  Shrugging, Tobias stood only to crumple to the floor, defied by his battered leg. “Shit.”

  “Oh right, I forgot.” She tugged him upright. “Here. Lean on me.”

  “But you’re so small. I’ll crush you.”

  “Oh, shut up. And I’m not that small.”

  Leila led him through the sanctuary, and after some resistance on his part, deep into the labyrinth, barely tottering on the three legs between them. Squinting, She scanned the walls, searching for those tiny red crowns. There. The marker sat in the center of a brick, and She pounded against it, disarming an obstacle with an ease that sent Tobias’s eyes wide. Another marker, and the wall split apart, revealing a stone stairwell. They hobbled up the steps, the air shifting from humidity to a cool breeze, and sat at the top, leaning against opposite walls.

  Tobias flopped his busted leg over the steps, staring at the latched gate above them. “What is this?”

  “One of the many paths to the surface,” Leila said. “They’re scattered throughout the labyrinth so the Proctor can come and go as he pleases.”

  “And you, of course.”

  Leila went rigid, though Tobias didn’t seem to notice. He gazed up past the gate, captivated by the blackened sky and the scattered stars.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She followed his line of sight. “I’m like you, you know. I don’t sleep much. It started out for the usual reasons: fear, nightmares. I felt haunted, really. But now… I don’t know, perhaps I’ve adapted. But I rather like the darkness.”

  Tobias smiled. “Just as your name suggests.” He turned once more to the sky, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

  A pang tore through Her. “You can’t leave. I’d open it for you—let you run off—but Brontes would track you, and you’d be charged with desertion.”

  “You’d let me go? Really?”

  “I’d let all of you go. If I could. This tournament, it’s vile. Just like its creator.”

  “The Sovereign… You must really hate him.”

  Vitriol filled Her mouth, but She swallowed it down. She plucked a peach from Her pocket, handing it off to him. “Here. Eat.”

  “Is it safe?”

  She snatched the fruit away and took a bite. “Tastes safe to me.” She tossed it back to him.

  He tore into the juicy middle as if it was his first meal of the day, while She picked at Her own peach, slowly taking him in. She was right about his eyes—a deep brown, close enough to black to be mistaken. His hair was a wild mess of dark waves and curls, shining at a few ends as if dipped in gold. The moonlight illuminated his rich bronze skin, reflecting off his most pronounced features—his high cheekbones, sharp jaw, and defined form. She traced his broad shoulders with Her gaze, slinking down his chest, counting his muscles—four, five, six on his stomach, not keenly sculpted like Beau or Caesar, but still clear as day.

  God, he’s handsome.

  “You’re staring at me,” Tobias said.

  Shit. Leila straightened. “I’m thinking.”

  “Thinking what?”

  How handsome you are. “That you don’t look like an artist.”

  “I’m no artist.”

  “Is that so? Your laurel suggests otherwise.”

  “I’m a laborer. I work in the sugarcane fields.” He leaned back against the wall. “I was an artist. Almost. I was almost an artist.”

  “Care to explain?”

  Tobias went quiet, twirling his peach in his palm.

  “It’s all right,” She said. “I suppose it’s personal—”

  “I was an apprentice.”

  Leila faltered. “Oh? For whom?”

  “Petros Elia.”

  “Petros Elia?” She all but spat. “His work hangs in the palace, you know.”

  “I know. He’s a legend.”

  She swallowed, feigning casualness despite Her eager thoughts. “I imagine it’s very hard to secure an apprenticeship with him.”

  “It was. I worked under his teaching for, oh, I don’t know… Two years? Maybe longer. And then I left.”

  “Because of your sister?”

  He nodded.

  A grin sprang across Her cheeks. “Goodness.” She poked at his chest. “See? I was right. I usually am—though not when I accused you of murder. Nobody’s perfect, I suppose. But usually I get it right.”

  His soft laughter fueled Her smile. She pulled Her knees into Her chest, hugging them tightly to occupy Her restless hands.

  “It’s your turn, you know,” he said.

  “My turn?”

  “Tell me a story. I told you mine.”

  “That’s funny, I didn’t realize we had worked out an exchange.”

  “It’s only fair.”

  Leila laughed. “Piss off. You don’t care about fairness. You’re just prying.”

  “For sound reason. I can count on one hand what I know of you.”

  “Oh, please.”

  Tobias counted along his fingers. “You’re a healer. Your name means darkness. You hate the Sovereign. And you’re an acquired taste. Meanwhile, you know…oh, I don’t know, at least a million things about me, by my approximation.”

  Leila chuckled, hoping to God She wasn’t blushing.

  “You laugh at me,” he said. “I’m serious, you know.”

  “You inquire for no reason. You don’t even like me.”

  “Of course I like you.”

  “You said you didn’t.” She raised Her chin. “You called me vinegar.”

  Tobias playfully rolled his eyes. “Well, clearly I’ve acquired the taste.”

  Her heart lurched, pounding defiantly. Stop it.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty.” Her voice came out rushed and eager. “We all are. Except Delphi, she’s twenty-two. Just a bit older than you.”

  “See, you even know my age.”

  “I know a lot about all the competitors.”

  “Orion’s thirty. A full decade older than The Savior. Strange, yes?”

  Leila flicked Her wrist. “Oh, that’s nothing. Drake’s thirty-five.”

  “Thirty-five?” Tobias gaped. “Isn’t that foul? And the Sovereign doesn’t mind?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I imagine Bjorne’s the oldest man here.”

  “Quite the contrary. He’s the youngest.”

  Tobias’s expression went blank. “You lie to my face.”

  “I do not.”

  “But…he’s huge! And hairy!”

  “I know! It boggles the mind!”

  Their laughter echoed through the stairwell. Tobias finished off his peach, tossing the pit down the steps. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, you know.”

  She didn’t bother fighting Her smile. “Is that so? I was hoping you had forgotten.”

  His attention was both a pleasure and a blazing sun too bright to look at. She plucked another peach from Her cloak, carving it in half to avoid his gaze.

  “What of your family?”

  Tension shot through Her shoulders. “Complicated. Nonexistent.”

  “You have no one?”

  “I have the court. Pippa, Delphi—”

  “And Cosima.”

  She hesitated. “Yes. They’re my sisters.”

  “But aside from them…you’re alone.”

  “Aside from them?” Brontes floated through Her thoughts. “Very much so.”

  Her father faded from Her mind, as Tobias was still watching Her, a curious gleam in his gaze. “How long have you lived here?” he asked. “In the fortress.”

  “My whole life.”

  “And you’ve always been in The Savior’s court?”

  The tension coiled around He
r spine. “Court girls are recruited at a very young age. Babies, even. Sometimes.” She handed half of the peach his way. “It’s considered a great honor to work and live alongside The Savior. They claim the court act as advisors, but we all know the truth.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The court girls are confidants. Friendship, bought and paid for.”

  “Oh… So, do you even like one another?”

  Cosima—her green eyes, her painted lips. Leila forced a slight smile. “I love them all. Sisters, remember?”

  Tobias nodded, taking a bite of his peach wedge while She watched him intently. “Now that you’ve properly interrogated me—”

  “I’d hardly call it an interrogation,” he countered.

  “It’s your turn. Fair is fair.”

  Tobias bowed, opening his arms wide. “Then by all means, interrogate me.”

  Leila tiptoed around Her words. “Today, in the sanctuary…Flynn gushed about Cosima. And you didn’t contribute. Not once.”

  “I was distracted.”

  “Or were you silent by intention?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you asking?”

  “I’m just curious what you think of Her.”

  A slow smirk spread across his lips.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’re a spy,” Tobias said. “You think I’ve forgotten?”

  “You believe I’ll tell Her of our conversation?”

  “Isn’t that the entire purpose of spying?”

  Her stomach dropped. “What if I promised to keep my lips sealed? To never speak of this to anyone?”

  “Then I’d say you’re a terrible spy.”

  “Well, I never said I was any good at it. I did reveal myself to you, didn’t I?”

  An unbearable eternity passed before he finally spoke. “I contributed nothing, because I had nothing to contribute.”

  Her heart shot into Her throat. “You’re not fond of Cosima?”

  “It’s nothing like that. I just haven’t an opinion.”

  “None at all?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve hardly spoken to Her. Just a few words.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, She’s beautiful,” he said. “But lots of women are beautiful.”

  “You want more.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “No.” Leila chuckled. “For some, beauty is perfectly sufficient.”