by Jenna Moreci
Flynn turned to greet Her, red-faced and beaming. “Leila!”
Tobias spun around at his side, and pink floated from his flesh, filling the air.
“I see you’ve finally learned my name,” Leila said.
“Of course! I’m a gentleman, after all.” Flynn gestured toward the fire pit. “Join us.”
Leila wavered, then gave Pippa a squeeze. “Little duckling, can you do Me a favor? Head back to the palace, get a good night’s sleep?” Pippa didn’t protest, scampering off as Leila approached the circle of men.
“Healer girl, sit next to me!”
“Fuck you, Neil.”
The group laughed, save for Tobias, who cast a glare in the Lord’s direction. Flynn waved his chalice above their circle. “We’re a bit crammed, but you’re small. No doubt you can squeeze in somewhere.”
Tobias’s glare deepened. “Well, go on then, move over. Make room for her.”
Frowning, Flynn obeyed, and Leila wasted no time taking a seat, setting Her cloak and satchel aside. She sat shoulder-to-shoulder with the men, Her skin pressed against Flynn.
And Tobias.
“Hope you don’t mind the cozy accommodations,” Flynn said. “Rubbing shoulders with us scoundrels.”
Leila eyed Tobias sidelong. “I’ll manage.”
The men lost themselves in their chatter, while Tobias leaned back on his hands, the turning of his thoughts explicitly clear.
A complication. But She was the same to him, and he had chosen Her anyway.
The men were caught up in their drunken stupor, ignoring Her entirely. Slowly, She dragged Her fingers along the stone floor, gliding over smooth skin—Tobias’s hand. He greeted Her touch with a soft, familiar caress, and She pulled his hand beneath Her cloak pile and threaded Her fingers between his.
Orion chuckled. “Look at that stupid grin.”
Tobias bit his lip, failing to conceal his smile. He squeezed Her hand beneath Her cloak.
“It’s been a good day.”
13
The Poem
Thunder crashed in the distance as rain seeped beneath the black curtain of Leila’s chamber. She nestled into Her crimson sheets, the silk like soft fingertips against Her naked flesh. She’d never cared for the rain, but on this night, something about it felt powerful. Something about it excited Her.
Another boom, and Leila shrieked, bolting upright in Her bed. She cursed Her nerves and lit a candle at Her bedside, casting an orange glow across the chamber. Lightning flashed beneath Her garden curtain, followed by a deafening thunderclap, and Her door burst open, revealing a tall, dark figure.
She gasped. “Tobias?”
He stood in the doorframe, muscles glistening with rainwater. The intensity of his gaze sent chills rolling through Her body.
“What are you doing here?” She pulled a sheet over Her bare breasts. “How did you find me?”
“I had to see you.” He charged into Her chamber.
“But the labyrinth—”
“Not even the labyrinth could keep me away from you.”
Tobias pounced onto Her bed, whipping the hair from his eyes. Somehow even in his disheveled state he looked ruggedly handsome, smelled of frankincense and cherry blossoms.
“From the moment we met, I knew you were the one.” His strong, wet chest heaved with his labored breathing. “I haven’t thought of anything else. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. All I can do is dream of you.”
Leila pressed a hand to Her chest. “Tobias… What are you saying?”
He came in closer, his stare fierce. “I must have you.”
The hard bulge of his enormous erection pulled against his saturated pants, begging for release. She ripped the sheet from Her body.
“Take me.”
Leila opened Her eyes, blinded by the sting of daylight. No thunder, no rain, and certainly no Tobias. She closed Her eyes, trying to will Herself back to sleep, but it was a lost cause. Dammit. Sighing, She allowed Tobias to fill the corners of Her mind, sliding Her fingers between Her legs and relaxing into Her touch.
A knock sounded at the door, and Her hands shot to Her sides. “What?”
The door crept open, and Hylas came inside. “Good morning, Your Holiness.” He cowered beneath Her scowl. “Apologies for the intrusion. There’s to be a meeting in the Senate room.”
Her glare spoke for Her, ushering him from the room. As he walked away, Asher took his place.
“Did you need something?” Leila said.
He closed the door behind him, his lips a straight line. Leila pulled Her lace robe from Her bedframe and threw it on. “I don’t recall granting you access to My chamber.”
She hopped from the bed, while Asher followed behind Her. “The night before last…You didn’t retire to Your chamber for the evening.”
“I most certainly did.”
“You didn’t. Same as a few nights before then. I stood at my post and waited, but You never showed. Yet somehow, in the morning, You left Your chamber as if You had been there the entire time. But You hadn’t.”
“What an interesting story. Is that all?”
Asher frowned. “I am Your personal guard. It is my duty to know Your whereabouts at all times.”
“Sounds to Me like someone isn’t very good at their job.”
“This is dangerous and unacceptable behavior, and quite frankly unbecoming of a woman of Your station. You’ve left me no choice but to inform the Sovereign of Your transgressions—”
Leila pounded Her elbow into his nose, sending him collapsing. The blade sat on Her end table, and She snatched it up, pressing it to his throat.
“Tell him and you die.”
His eyes shot wide. “Your Holiness—”
“I have worked too hard to have everything ruined by some guard.”
“I don’t know what You’re talking about.”
“If you say anything, even a single word—”
“I won’t speak to him!” he spat. “Just put the blade down.”
Her breathing had been reduced to panting, Her hands trembling. The helplessness of Asher’s gaze ripped through Her.
“I don’t want to kill you,” She said.
“I don’t want You to kill me either.”
The blade shook in Her grasp, digging into Asher’s golden flesh. He swallowed. “Leila, please, I just… I don’t understand.”
There are too many loose ends. Kill him. She dropped Her weapon, heaving him to his feet. “This stays between us. Swear it to Me, as your One True Savior.”
“I swear it. Your comings and goings are of no one’s concern.”
Eyeing him up and down, She grumbled, “Dismissed.”
He stumbled from the chamber, glancing back at Her in a daze. She flinched when the door shut, then dressed Herself, Her muscles wound tight.
The large, black door swung behind Her as She made Her way into the Senate room. Wembleton froze midsentence, and the tension within Her threatened to break Her bones.
“Another unscheduled meeting?” She took Her seat, feigning grace and ease. “These have become quite common. What now?”
Brontes flipped through his parchment. “Recent events need to be addressed, namely Qar’s responsibilities. According to his records, the Trogolians and the Monarch have accepted their invitations. We’re just waiting on word from Kovahr.”
“I fear I’m missing something. Where’s Qar?” Leila eyed the table. Someone else was missing. “And Phanes. Why are they not with us today?”
“Phanes is ill. He’s retired to his chambers to regain his strength.”
“And Qar?”
Brontes stopped his shuffling. “Qar is dead. We found his body in one of the southern gardens, stripped of his rings.”
“You mean to tell Me there’s a murderer in this palace?” Leila gasped. “I can’t fathom it. And thievery, of all motives? The staff is paid fairly.”
“It’s not a thief.”
“Then why would this person have an inte
rest in Qar’s jewels? Can you think of another purpose they’d serve?”
Brontes’s eye narrowed. “Kastor’s in charge of the wedding arrangements.” He turned to the Senator in question. “You’ll pick up where Qar left off.”
“And who’s in charge of the investigation into Qar’s murder?” Leila said. “Naturally the assailant must be apprehended. I for one am outraged.”
Begrudgingly, Brontes flicked a wrist at Erebus. “Assemble a team of guards to investigate Qar’s murder.” He went back to his parchment flipping. “On to the tournament. Were the wine and meats prepared for the Giant’s victory?”
The table fell silent. Leila stared at Wembleton, willing Her eyes to become daggers, and he shrank beneath Her gaze.
Brontes glanced between the others. “Well?”
Red-faced, Wembleton cleared his throat. “Your generous offering was well-received, Your Highness. The men are eternally grateful. But…your Giant was not victorious.”
“Come again?”
“The Giant. He did not win the battle.”
“That’s impossible. It was a fight to the death. If the Giant didn’t win, surely he would’ve perished.”
Wembleton swallowed. “The Giant is dead, Your Highness.”
A sinister quiet followed—the calm before the storm, as the fury in Brontes’s stare warned of thunder.
“He’s been dead this whole time, and you’re just telling me now?” he said.
Wembleton sputtered out his words. “Apologies, Your Highness.”
“How did this happen? Who did he fight?”
“Your Highness—”
“Who did he fight?”
Wembleton’s lip quivered. “The Artist, Your Highness.”
“The Giant fell against a Savant?” Brontes lurched up from his seat. “How could you allow this to happen? You had one job. How could you be so stupid—?”
“He was blessed!” Wembleton blurted.
Leila bit down on Her tongue, forcing back a wince.
Brontes’s voice cracked like a whip through the quiet. “What did you say?”
“The Artist was blessed.” Wembleton spoke frantically, stammering. “I don’t know how to explain it. He was here one moment, gone the next. He traveled through the arena like a demon, swept away in a black cloud.”
“Are you drunk?”
“He employed magic, Your Highness.” Helplessly, Wembleton glanced Leila’s way. “He was blessed by…by The Savior, Your Highness.”
The attention in the room shifted. Each man stared at Leila, but She was only concerned with the red cloud lifting from Her father’s flesh.
“You blessed the Artist.” His voice came out low and even. “Why?”
“I didn’t like the Giant,” She said. “He was mean to Me.”
Brontes spun toward Romulus. “You discouraged me from attending.”
“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” the Senator said. “How could I have predicted such an affront?”
“You’ve seen Her with these men. Has She expressed any fondness for the Artist?”
“He’s yet to win a reward. I’ve only seen but a glance shared between them. Though I admit to being far-removed from matters of the heart. Perhaps that glance meant more to Her than I can imagine. She is a woman, after all. They search for meaning behind the trivial.”
Brontes turned to Leila, clutching the table’s edge. “Do You know how it looks for The Savior to publicly defy Her father’s will?”
“Oops.”
He stood in stoic silence, but the red around him became dense, filling the room. She knew what was coming.
“Leave us.”
The Senators obeyed Brontes’s order, while Leila remained seated and braced.
“My condolences for the Giant,” She said. “He will be missed by someone, I’m sure.”
Brontes stalked toward Her. “Swept away in a dark cloud. Care to explain?”
He sat on the table’s edge, far too close for comfort. Leila kept Her jaw clamped shut.
“No? Do we need a little incentive?”
He grabbed Her throat, forcing Her against Her chair. Her heart pounded hard, calling for action, but She resisted.
“Still nothing?” Releasing Her, he flung open a nearby drawer, pulling out a blade not unlike Her own. Without a moment’s hesitation, He carved into Her arm.
Streams of white burst through Her, and She stood at the other end of the room, far from Brontes’s reach. She clutched Her bloodied arm, the stinging wound not nearly as painful as Her father’s smirk.
“How disappointing,” he said. “My Dark One keeps secrets from me.”
“You’ve never shown an interest in My light.”
“What of this Artist? Are You fond of him?”
With each step Brontes took forward, Leila took one back. “I told you. I didn’t like the Giant.”
“Maybe I’ll visit the sanctuary. Congratulate the Artist in person.”
“I don’t particularly care what you do. Are we done here?”
Another step, and Her back hit the wall. Brontes closed the distance between them. “Show me again. Your trick.”
“I am not a hired act. I am your Queen.”
“Show me.”
Gritting Her teeth, She pressed Herself to the wall, fighting to be as far from him as possible. He grabbed Her shoulders, slamming Her against the cool surface.
“Show me Your magic, You filthy fucking—!”
Blazing light surrounded Her, fading to drab, stone walls. She didn’t quite know where She was, hadn’t chosen any place in particular—just anywhere far from Brontes. The labyrinth? Four onyx thrones sat behind Her. This was one of the viewing rooms. The site of the next challenge. Convenient.
She clamped Her hand over Her wounded arm, slowing, then stopping the bleeding. Her breathing wavered, and She grimaced. Brontes shouldn’t still scare Her this much.
She wasn’t sure how long She stood there before voices sounded from the corridor. Delphi entered first, her arms overflowing with fabric. “Leila, You’re early. That’s new.” She tossed Leila Her cloak. “Are You all right?”
Leila clasped Her cloak at Her neck, covering Her arm as Pippa and Cosima flitted by. “There’s a challenge today, yes? At what time?”
“Any moment now.” Delphi scanned Her over. “Are You well? You look ill.”
“Brontes knows about the blessing.”
“And the switch?” Leila shook Her head, and Delphi sighed. “At least there’s that.”
“Ladies.” Romulus’s voice reached the room before he did. He entered, his knowing gaze burning through Leila. “Places.”
The sisters took their seats, and while Romulus left to retrieve the first competitor, Leila stewed over Her father. “The shadow walking was My advantage. He didn’t know…and now he does…”
“Do You regret it?” Delphi said. “Sharing Your blessing?”
“No.”
“Then it was worth the sacrifice.”
“Does anyone know what the challenge is today?” Cosima fiddled with her beaded bracelet. “What exactly are we watching?”
Footsteps echoed through the room, sending the women to silence. Romulus was the first to arrive, followed by Beau, who swept his golden-brown locks from his face and winked at Cosima.
“Welcome to your fourth challenge,” Romulus recited. “This tournament is designed to test all facets of your character: your physicality, strength of will, loyalty, and soundness of mind. Today, we test the depth of your intentions.”
Light beamed from the ceiling, spilling over Beau. He squinted up at the illumination searching for its source, no doubt searing his eyeballs in the process.
“Seated before you is The Savior.” Romulus gestured toward the women. “And right here, right now, you will recite for Her a poem.”
A poem? From these idiots?
“Describe to us your affection for Her Holiness,” the Senator continued. “Speak solely from the heart.”
Beau stroked his chin, his lips pursed with fierce concentration.
“Adonis,” Romulus said. “Your poem.”
“Give me a moment.”
Romulus glowered. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to think of words that rhyme.”
“The poem doesn’t have to rhyme.”
“Of course it has to rhyme. All poems rhyme,” Beau scoffed. “Idiot.”
“Adonis—”
“I’ve got it.” Beau grinned at Cosima. “It’s a good one. You’ll like it.” He puffed out his chest. “There once was a handsome Lord, who was long and strong as a sword. He found him a bride, took Her for a ride, and for always, he was adored.”
The room fell silent. Beau glanced between the women, waiting for a reaction that never came.
Romulus raised a greying eyebrow. “That’s your poem? About Her Holiness?”
“Yes.” Beau’s face dropped. “Wait, it was supposed to be about Her?”
“You’re dismissed.”
“You never said so—”
“Dismissed.”
The Lord plodded from the room as if he had been slighted, while the women sank into their seats. The next man entered, then the next, each equally bewildered upon learning of their task. “A poem?” they’d ask, as if the term was foreign. One by one, they tripped over their words, fumbling for artistry that wasn’t there.
Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, speechless for the first time since the tournament had begun. “What is there to say of Cosima? So many things. One look at Her, and the mind is flooded with inspiration. So much to say. So very, very much…”
Flynn came in next. “Oh, Cosima, dearest Cosima. You are…The Savior…and that is good. I would climb mountains just to see Your face. I would swim oceans just to see Your…” his stare lingered on her breasts, then darted up to her eyes, “…face once more.”
With each miserable attempt, Leila and Her sisters’ impatience grew. Caesar swaggered into the room, his shoulders squared, and Leila nearly laughed at the seriousness of his expression.
“Cosima, beautiful Queen with fair skin, with green eyes,” he said. “It is You who keeps our realm mighty, yet it is also You who has left my heart weak. I think of You day after day. What would it be like to kiss those lips? To hold You in my arms?”