by Jenna Moreci
“Well, perhaps I’m peculiar. A misfit, dangerous to society.”
He smiled wide, and She couldn’t help but do the same.
“Is that it?” he said. “Has my interrogation come to an end?”
His gentle gaze, his hands casually folded in his lap—everything about him spoke of patience and calm, yet She couldn’t escape the memory of his black cloud.
“I have one last question for you.”
“You have my undivided attention,” he said.
“Are you all right?”
“Well, according to you, I have a hideous bruise on my face. And I did get stabbed in the leg today.”
“No, I mean… Milo died only a few days ago.”
Color trickled from Tobias’s flesh. Misery. She’d known it was still there. It had to be.
“I wasn’t sure if I should ask,” She said. “It didn’t seem particularly appropriate, but…I think about it, sometimes.”
“And what is it that you think about?”
“Your circumstances. They’re utterly fucked. I think about how you can’t just be. How you can’t mourn, like most people would. Because you’re here.”
He stared at the wall, boring holes through it with his gaze. “He dies in my mind every morning, again and again. I watch it happen right in front of me. And when I’m not thinking of him, I’m thinking of how to avoid sharing his fate. And if by some miracle I’m feeling calm, or good, I’m reminded that he’s dead. And I feel guilty for my brief contentment. For allowing myself a moment of peace.”
Ribbons filled the space between them—except they weren’t black at all, but an indigo blue.
Sadness.
“I sound like a madman, I’m sure.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Like a wreck.”
“You’d sound like a madman if you were anything but a wreck.”
His gaze made its way back to Hers, palpable even behind the indigo. She looked away, dragging Her hand through his streams of sorrow; they separated between Her fingers, dissolving into the night air.
“You’re content sometimes?” She said.
“Sometimes.”
“When you’re with Flynn and the others, I imagine.”
“I’m content right now.”
His words wrapped around Her, warm against Her skin. Then he yawned, and Her heart sank. The night had to end eventually.
“Ah, and there it is.” She tried to mask Her disappointment. “I suppose you’re ready to turn in now, yes? Would you like me to walk you back to the sanctuary?”
She tore Her gaze from the stone step. Tobias sat before Her clear as day, not a speck of blue in sight, a hint of a smile resting on his lips.
“In a little while,” he said.
9
The Reward
The faint light of the rising sun coaxed Leila awake. Stirring, She groaned over Her stiff back, the stone wall a paltry excuse for a pillow. She threw Her cloak over Her shoulders, then stopped short.
Tobias was propped against the opposite wall, eyes shut, chest rising and falling. She watched his rhythmic breathing, hypnotized if only for a moment. The sun was still ascending into the sky, making its way above the latched gate. There wasn’t much time.
“Tobias.”
He didn’t move. She grazed his arm with Her fingertips. “Tobias—”
His eyes shot open, and his hand sprang to life, snatching up Her wrist. Gasping for breath, he faltered. “Oh my God.” He released Her. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right. It’s completely inappropriate.”
“It’s fine. You’re on guard. And in these conditions, that’s a good thing.” She glanced overhead. The purple sky was beginning to glow, and soon Her skin would do the same. “Let’s get you back to the sanctuary.”
They hobbled down the stairs and through the labyrinth. Though Tobias’s stride was steadier, Her anxieties piqued each time he stumbled and swayed. Her chest hollowed when the sanctuary appeared, and She turned to go, leaving Tobias to totter toward the tents.
“Leila.” He stood in the spot where She had left him, staring back at Her. “Will you be joining us this evening as well?”
Your last visit. You said so. You promised. “I…think so.”
He smiled.
“Most likely,” She added quickly. “I mean, I’m not sure, but I think so. Yes.”
“Good. I was just curious, is all. I’ll be seeing you then. Maybe.”
She fought back a grin. “Maybe.”
“Provided I survive the day.”
“Have faith in yourself. You’re a better contender than you think.”
She scurried off, resisting the urge to skip across the grey stone. For once there was no worry, just wild glee carrying Her from the labyrinth to Her chamber, cradling Her when She flopped into bed, lulling Her as She closed Her eyes.
“Leila.”
She opened Her eyes. Sunlight beamed from between the marble pillars, the once-purple sky now bright blue—a few measly hours of sleep gone in an instant. Delphi sat at Her side with her braids knotted at her nape, a beautiful pain in the ass.
“What do you want?” Leila muttered.
“Good morning to You as well. I expected to find You in Your garden blessing our glorious realm.”
Leila buried Her face in Her pillow. “I overslept.”
“I can see that,” Delphi said. “How’s Tobias?”
“What makes you think I’ve seen Tobias?”
“You smell like the labyrinth.”
“That bad?”
Delphi fished a satchel from the floor. “You also left Your healer supplies right here in plain sight. Aren’t we discreet.”
“I was tired.”
“Tobias wore You out nice and good, I take it.”
“Delphi—”
“You’ve got a lot of stuff in here.” Delphi dug through the satchel’s contents. “Bandages, a mending kit. Are You going to patch up the tears in their pants?”
“The tears in their flesh.”
“Ah.” Delphi continued her digging. “Perfumes, creams, an actual tonic.” She pulled out a grey jar. “Leila, this is clay.”
“What? I just grabbed any old thing.”
“Even clay? In case one of them needs emergency rejuvenation? There is no torture crueler than dry skin.”
Leila waved her away. “Shut up.”
“What did You do with Tobias?”
“Nothing. I was working. Remember? We have an assassination to prevent.”
“I see. And did You learn anything new about Brontes’s plan?”
Leila sank beneath Her covers. “No.”
“I’m absolutely shocked.” Delphi stood, patting down her dress. “Well, fortunately for You, I’m headed to the labyrinth right now, and there’s not a single creature down there who could possibly distract me.”
“I wasn’t distracted—” Leila stopped short. “Wait, you’re going to the labyrinth? Why?”
“To prep Your assassins for their reward. They won the last challenge.”
“It was a torture challenge. How is that possible?”
“That’s what I aim to figure out.” With a wink, Delphi headed for the door.
“Wait.” Leila shot upright. “If My assassins won the reward, that means they’re meeting with Cosima.”
“So?”
“Shouldn’t we be worried?”
“What for?” Delphi said. “The Savior isn’t to die until Her wedding night.”
“But still, what if…?”
“They hurt Cosima?” Delphi rolled her eyes. “How will we ever go on?”
Leila scowled. “You’ll be seeing Rom there, yes? Tell him to set up an extra tent in the sanctuary.”
Delphi arched an eyebrow.
“It’s so we have a place to work,” Leila said. “Away from the men.”
“Mhm.”
“Some of them are unruly, and having a safe, quiet space would
do us a lot of good…”
Leila hadn’t finished before Delphi left Her chamber, letting the door swing shut behind her. Cursing, Leila flopped back onto Her sheets, then smiled as the previous evening replayed in Her mind.
Before She could drift back to sleep, Her usual servants bombarded the chamber, dragging Her to the royal bathhouse and stripping Her down. Light rippled through the pool as the girls babbled, effervescent and unburdened in ways Leila could only dream of.
Nyx dug her sponge deep into Leila’s flesh. “You smell like a man.”
Faun chuckled. “Maybe She’s been rolling around with a man.”
“Of course not,” Hemera said. “She hasn’t seen them since the First Impressions.”
“How was it?” Damaris looked up from Leila’s foot, lathering between Her toes. “Did anyone strike Your interest?”
Tobias’s steadfast stare filled the corners of Her mind. “No.”
“She hesitated…” Faun singsonged.
“You’ll be seeing them tomorrow, yes?” Damaris said.
“Why would I be seeing them tomorrow?” Leila snapped.
Starting, Damaris glanced between the others. “There’s a challenge. You’re to be in attendance.”
Leila’s face burned. “Apologies. It slipped My mind.”
“She forgot Her own tournament.” Nyx shook her head. “Unbelievable. The gall.”
“Give Her time. She’s just digging in Her heels.” Faun brushed Leila’s hair in long strokes. “But sometime soon, She’ll soften up. And when one of them finally catches Her eye—”
“One of the men has caught Her eye?” Cecily strolled into the space, a ream of fabric over her arm and her brown curls bouncing against her shoulders. “Which one? I’d be delighted to hear it.”
“It’s no one,” Leila grumbled. “They’re just speculating.”
“No one?” Cecily settled along the pool’s edge. “Not even a little?”
“Don’t push your luck. She’s especially petulant today,” Faun said.
“I am not—” Leila stopped Herself, tripping over words She couldn’t speak. “Oh, never mind…”
The girls around Her shared knowing glances. With a gentle smile, Cecily scooted closer, taking Faun’s place and running her fingers through Leila’s hair. “It’s overwhelming. All these men, the pressure. Poor child, I can’t imagine.” She wrapped Leila’s loose locks into a braid. “But love is such a beautiful thing. I want that for You. When You feel it, deep in Your bones, there is no greater joy.”
Cecily’s touch soothed Leila’s nerves, yet her words, however delicate, were wounding.
“How about this,” Cecily said. “You don’t have to like the tournament. But maybe You can open Your heart a little bit. Allow room for possibility. Can You do that for me? For the girls?”
A circle of large, prying eyes pierced through Leila. She swallowed the lump in Her throat. “Maybe.”
Faun laughed. “You waste your breath.”
Cecily peered around Leila’s shoulder. “We just want what’s best for You.”
Leila left the bathhouse sometime after like well-washed rope, Her muscles knotted, Her mind wound. Her bed was just as warm as when She had left, yet nothing about it felt inviting. Schemes pinched at Her, urging Her to wield Her blade, but She had no new leads to work with. All She could do was sit in place, staring at Her wardrobe, Her desk, and the black cloak hanging over Her chair.
One more visit. She’d promised Tobias. Well, perhaps it wasn’t a promise, but who’s to say he didn’t take it as such? She sat up straight. His leg. What if he didn’t survive the day? But his survival wasn’t of Her concern. In fact, She should’ve been worried about Her own survival, but Tobias’s yawning gash was gnawing at Her resolve. One tiny voice would be enough to push Her over the edge.
A grunt sounded outside. The door opened, and Pippa trudged into the chamber, dragging a large, lumpy bag behind her. “Let’s go see the boys!”
“If you insist.” Leila shot up from Her seat, clasping Her cloak and eyeing Pippa sidelong. “What’s all that?”
“Meat! For the boys!”
Pinkish blood trailed from the canvas bag, disappearing beneath the door. “Did you bring this all the way from the kitchen?” Leila said.
“Mhm!”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Lots of people saw me! I’ve got a big bag of meat!”
Leila cradled Her face. “God…”
“Are we going to see the boys?”
“Yes, just please, not so loud.” Leila poked Her head out of the room, wincing at the blood heading clear down the corridor. “Take My hand.”
Pippa’s fingers threaded between Hers, and with their touch came the white flames of Her light. The latched gate to the labyrinth appeared, and they threw it open, winding through darkened passages and barreling into the sanctuary.
Men of all kinds surrounded Her, but no wavy mop. She scanned the space frantically, passing over blond hair, black curls, a red beard.
There. Tobias stood alone in the labyrinth, and Leila went loose, exhaling. She was slow to register the easel in front of him as well as the other oddities in the sanctuary: Zander’s harp, Flynn’s waster, the rabbit Orion was skinning by the fire pit.
Cursing rang out. Caesar sat cradling a bloody heap against his chest, while Neil and Beau guffawed beside him. Catching sight of Leila, Caesar flagged Her over. “Healer girl.”
Leila trudged toward them, avoiding Neil’s gaze. She peered down at the mess in Caesar’s possession, only to find that it was his own mangled hand, his flesh hanging in tatters. “What the hell—?”
“It was a pig.” Beau snickered. “It was a little, baby pig.”
“You shut your mouth!” Caesar spat. “I can still pummel you with one hand!”
“Like you pummeled that pig?” Neil scoffed.
Leila pushed past the absurdity, gingerly taking Caesar’s wrist between Her thumb and index finger. He winced, and so did She.
“You can fix this, right?”
Definitely not. She dug through Her satchel. “I…just need the right…tonic…” Her gaze floated up from Her aimless searching to the labyrinth.
To Tobias.
“Healer girl?” Caesar said.
“Found it.” She plucked a vial from Her bag, dousing Her palms in perfume the scent of peaches. Gritting Her teeth, She pressed Her palms to Caesar’s hand, flattening his loose flesh into place.
He lurched forward. “God dammit, it burns!”
“Yes, that happens.”
“This will fix it?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Her gaze wandered back to Tobias, who was speaking with Pippa. He let out a chuckle Leila couldn’t hear, but Her heart swelled nonetheless.
“How do you expect to complete the challenge with one hand?” Beau said.
Caesar spoke between pained pants. “Hell if I know.”
Leila’s head perked up. “There’s a challenge?”
“We’re supposed to prepare a gift for The Savior. I was going to offer up my seed, but apparently it doesn’t qualify.” Neil laughed at his own joke, then eyed Leila, licking his lips. “More for you then.”
The easel. Tobias must be drawing, or painting, or something of the like. One last pulse of light, and Leila released Caesar’s soggy paw, wiping Her hands clean and bandaging him up. Tobias was alone now. She charged ahead.
“Healer girl,” Neil said. “My stitches are oozing.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
She abandoned the Lords and plunged straight into the labyrinth. The air was especially thick, the walls plastered with scorched wood—remnants of a fire, no doubt another tournament obstacle. Ash flecked from the ceiling, sat in piles on the floor, and covered Tobias’s hands, cheeks, and chest in streaks and fingerprints. He studied the easel before him, and when he looked Her way, Her heartbeat surged.
“You’re standing,” She said.
He smiled. “I am—thanks to my secret weapon.”
Bandages peeked through the rip in his harem pants. She cocked Her head their way. “Can I look?”
“By all means.”
She crouched beside him, rolling up his pant leg and unwrapping his dressing. His stitches were scabbed and settled, the wound grisly but improved.
“Better?”
“Better.” She rewrapped his thigh, then hopped to Her feet. “But still, be careful.”
“As you wish.”
Beneath the ash, his cheekbones were even sharper, as if the swelling in his face had vanished overnight. “Your nose… It seems to be on the mend as well.”
“Is that so?”
“Hardly any sign of bruising,” She said. “No new injuries, I take it?”
“It appears I’ve managed to escape the labyrinth unscathed.”
“Then I suppose you don’t need my assistance.”
Leila nearly cringed, cursing Herself for speaking those words. An infinite quiet lingered, leaving Her to pick at Her cloak.
“How’s Caesar holding up?” Tobias said.
She let out a silent breath. “You mean his hand? Ghastly. I’m afraid he won’t be stroking his wood for some time, the poor thing.”
Tobias chuckled. “You’re bad.”
Heat flooded Her cheeks, then ebbed soon after. Footsteps echoed through the labyrinth as Drake, Antaeus, and Kaleo appeared from the shadows.
“Pleasant evening, Artist.” Kaleo winked at Leila. “Healer girl.”
She turned away, unsettled by his presence alone. Tobias watched as they walked off, his muscles flexed. “I take it you had no part in that?”
A clean dressing wrapped Kaleo from hip to shoulder, and a wad of bandages encased Antaeus’s foot. Fucking Diccus. “I most certainly did not,” She said.
“Good. Then they’ll heal slowly and poorly.”
Tobias softened, the tension in his body easing. She cocked Her head at his easel. “Are you drawing a picture?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Am I distracting you?”
“No no, of course not. I’m just having some trouble, is all.”
“Trouble?” Her eyes widened. “Can I take a look?”
Tobias nodded, and Leila circled the easel, eager to take in his masterpiece.