The Savior's Sister

by Jenna Moreci

  His words were strong much like his build, and despite Her misgivings, Leila couldn’t help but feel a hint of intrigue.

  “I wonder how it would feel to be near You, close enough to whisper in Your ear.” His hands mirrored his words. “And I long for the day when I can touch Your face, and when I can hold Your bountiful breasts in my eager hands.”

  Leila’s back shot straight, while Her sisters sat paralyzed, aghast.

  “I long to lie with You in our marriage bed,” Caesar said. “To be inside You, not as a mere man, but as Your Sovereign. I long to give You my seed so You may carry my child.”

  He bowed, ignorant to the disgust plastered across Cosima’s face. “Wondrous Queen, my heart and my body belong to You.”

  He marched from the room like a winner, while the sisters sat in disbelief. Delphi broke the silence, inhaling deeply. “Well, that took a turn.”

  Leila turned to Cosima. “Did he call your breasts bountiful?”

  “That’s the part You noticed?” Cosima spat. “Not the part where he gives me his seed? God, men…”

  As another man took his place in the viewing room, the sisters grumbled, eager for an end to their torment. Romulus was already halfway through his instructions before Leila dared to take in the fool before Her.

  Tobias. He stood within the beaming light set aglow like a god, yet he wore the same blatant confusion as each man before him.

  “A poem?” he said.

  “One detailing your affection for Her.” Romulus’s voice came out drained. “Words spoken from the heart, of course.”

  Leila swallowed a groan. The object of Her affection feigning interest in Her sister—an excellent addition to Her horrid day.

  Footsteps sounded behind Her. She glanced over Her shoulder and froze.

  Brontes leaned against the wall, his eye trained on Tobias like an arrow. He had threatened to visit, hadn’t he? Why hadn’t She taken him seriously? Leila turned away, Her throat tight and suffocating. This was it. Her plan would be revealed—and worse, Tobias would be the one to deliver the blow.

  “Artist,” the Proctor barked. “Your poem.”

  Tobias shook himself. “Apologies, I was lost in my thoughts.”

  “Have you found yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do begin.”

  Leila stiffened, preparing for Her world to crash down on Her.

  “I haven’t a way with words or poetry, but perhaps I can tell you, simply, how it is you make me feel.” Tobias spoke low and steady, a soothing tone to carry sweet nothings to The Savior—except he wasn’t looking at Cosima.

  He was looking at Leila.

  “Seen and understood. Like I am whole and empty at once. Whole because you see me, and empty because…how could I possibly be enough for you? It’s as if I’ve become both large and small. How you possess that sort of power, it’s beyond me.”

  You. He said it many times, and all the while he stared at Leila. Her breath stopped short.

  He’s talking to Me.

  “You pique my curiosity. You fascinate me. Your mind, your words, your nuances, everything. One glance in my direction, and you have my attention. I am captivated, I am…captive.” His gaze drifted, climbing the walls. “You terrify me. Because I am not accustomed to being this bold, and unarmed, and stupid—”

  Leila giggled into Her hands, Her face swimming with heat. Once again, his eyes were on Her, and his lips turned up into the sweetest grin.

  “But I’ll be stupid, if it pleases you. I’ll be stupid, if it means just a fleeting moment with you.” Flecks of color danced around him, creating rainbows within the beaming light. “You. Just you.” His expression hardened. “You are far more than a taste that I’ve acquired.”

  A wave of elation flowed through Her, lifting Her high. This moment was everything, far better than any dream, because it was real. And it was for Her.

  “I don’t know if any of this constitutes a poem,” he said. “But this is how you make me feel.”

  The room fell quiet, though everything within Leila had become loud—Her racing heartbeat, Her fluttering nerves, Her vitalized thoughts.

  Pippa’s clapping pulled Leila back to reality. She peered over Her shoulder at Brontes, who still leaned against the wall, glowering. Tobias left the room, and so did he.

  Her secret was safe.

  “Well then,” Leila patted down Her cloak, wrangling composure, “that nearly blew up in our faces, didn’t it?”

  Cosima stared at the spot where Tobias had stood. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Leila’s face burned. “It was quite lovely.”

  “Lovely?” Delphi wore a sly grin. “I saw You. You nearly forgot to breathe.”

  “I felt just as overwhelmed,” Cosima said. “I swear I’m beside myself. I can’t believe he feels so strongly for me.”

  Leila did a double take.

  For her?

  “I had no idea.” Cosima shook her head. “This whole time he’s been standing right in front of me, and I never noticed. I feel so foolish.”

  “Cosima, I think you’re mistaken…” Leila stopped short. “Are you crying?”

  Tears filled Cosima’s eyes, and she turned away, wiping her cheeks. “Ignore me. How embarrassing. It’s just…in all my life, no man has ever spoken of me with such care. I feel as though I’m truly being seen for the first time.” She chuckled. “I suppose he and I have that in common. It was a line in his poem, after all.”

  “Cosima—”

  “Thank You. So, so much.”

  “For what?”

  “For affording me this opportunity. If it weren’t for You, this would’ve never happened.” She cupped Leila’s face. “I am forever indebted to You, sweet Sister.”

  A pang ripped through Leila—not for Cosima’s loving gaze or her tears, but for each misstep she’d made, every bold, audacious request. A chill crept through Leila, the bitter bite of fear latching hold.

  Delphi rolled her eyes. “Cosima, the poem was—”

  “When does the next man arrive?” Leila spun toward Romulus. “He must be coming soon. I feel as though we’ve waited forever.”

  Delphi furrowed her brow. “Leila?”

  Another competitor entered the viewing room, sending the women to silence, and for that Leila was grateful. While Garrick sputtered out trite compliments, Leila festered over Tobias and Cosima. The pain in Her chest deepened, tearing Her in opposite directions, and every ounce of glee She had felt was smothered by dread.

  The challenge ended, much to everyone’s relief—except for Leila. Romulus ushered the men into the viewing room, and when Tobias met Her gaze, She looked away.

  “The Savior has deliberated,” Romulus said. “A winner has been selected among you, the man who competes with the purest intent.”

  Leila clenched Her jaw, not at all prepared for the words he would speak.

  “The winner of today’s challenge is the Artist. Congratulations, your reward awaits you tomorrow in the form of extended time in The Savior’s company.”

  Leila’s heart sank into Her stomach, and She left the room.

  14

  The Fire

  Wembleton snored open-mouthed, cheeks clammy from the morning heat. Leila waited beside his bed, crossing Her arms as She took him in. He looked pitiful up close, with his chin tucked into the rolls of his neck, his white hair plastered to his forehead. A part of Her almost felt sorry for him—a part devoid of reason.

  She slapped him across the face.

  Wembleton lurched awake, tumbling from his bed in a tangle of sheets. “Your Holiness,” he wheezed from the floor. “How’d You get in here?”

  “Have you forgotten already?” Leila burst into rays of light, reappearing behind him.

  With a yelp, he scooted away from Her, pulling his sheets over his doughy form. “You have wonderful timing. I was planning on visiting You. I have a great deal of information that I think You’ll find qu
ite valuable.”

  “You told My father I blessed the Artist,” She said. “You exposed My magic.”

  “It will never happen again, I swear—”

  “You’re absolutely right. Because you’ll be dead.”

  She kicked him in his side—like kicking a sack of jelly. He rolled out of his sheets and into the wall, clambering to his feet in time to spy the blade in Her hand.

  “I implore You to reconsider.” He pressed himself to the wall—large, pink, and naked, his belly hanging over the spot where his genitals likely sat, and for that Leila was grateful. She dragged Her blade over the curve of his stomach.

  “Nose to navel. That’s what I said, yes?” She stopped the sharpened tip above his groin. “You have three seconds to convince Me to spare your life.”

  “Your Holiness—”

  “Three…” Blood beaded at the end of Her weapon. “Two…”

  “News from the traitor arrives today!”

  She steadied Her hand. “Explain.”

  “The traitor. Outside the fortress.” He panted through the pain. “Your father has been in contact with them. Word arrives today.”

  “What kind of word?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  “How will his word arrive?”

  Wembleton sputtered out the name. “Ph-Phanes. Your father sent him to deliver payment. He returns today. And he never returns empty-handed.”

  “How is this possible? No one leaves the fortress.”

  “Brontes has made it so.”

  “He’ll have information? He’ll know who the traitor is?”

  Wembleton nodded. “He should be arriving any moment now. Through the Garden of Megaera.”

  Leila dissolved in a surge of light, leaving Wembleton behind.

  After digging through drawers and wrangling supplies, Leila stood in the watchtower staring out at the fortress. The rising sun beat down on Her, blazing through the black cloak over Her shoulders. She was used to heat in all forms, but today it was stifling.

  “So, this is it?” Delphi slumped against the sill. “We just wait?”

  The tall gates to the outside world stood far in the distance, and it wouldn’t be long before a tiny speck of a man came marching through them. “Until Phanes returns,” Leila said.

  “Then I suppose we have time to discuss Your lapse in judgment yesterday.”

  Leila stiffened. “We’re tracking a man complicit in My murder.”

  “Cosima’s with Tobias at this very moment. A reward he won for a poem he recited for You. And You allowed it to happen.”

  “What was I to do?”

  “You could start by telling her the truth. You owe her nothing.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why?” Delphi said. “Why put Yourself in this stupid situation?”

  “Because I don’t trust her!” Leila gripped the sill, fighting to calm Herself. “You saw her at the First Impressions. Boasting of her light. Performing tricks. She uses her fictitious title to worm her way into bed with these men. She makes spectacular speeches in the arena.”

  “She made a speech?”

  “Yes. An eloquent speech, no doubt rehearsed. She is drunk with power.”

  Delphi furrowed her brow. “What are You saying?”

  Leila’s voice came out meek. “I’m not trying to provoke any…hasty decisions.”

  “You think she’d use her position against You?”

  “Do you?”

  Delphi’s silence ate at Her.

  “You think I’m mad,” Leila muttered.

  “You’re wise to be skeptical. But Cosima? A traitor?” Delphi snorted. “I don’t think she has it in her. Though she may have Tobias in her right about now.”

  Her laughter was a dagger to Leila’s chest. At that moment, Tobias was alone with Cosima, his reward for his pure intent. It was the one worry She had managed to repress, yet Her sister had resurrected it amid a flurry of giggles.

  Delphi eyed Her over. “Please, You know I’m teasing. You can’t possibly think she’d have any sway with him.”

  The tiniest movement fluttered far below—a pinprick of a man flitting through the garden, heading for the palace. Leila cocked Her head his way. “Look.”

  Delphi squinted. “That can’t be Phanes. How did he get in?”

  Leila glanced between the gates locked tight and the tiny man skittering through the garden—another unanswered question. “Fucking Brontes…”

  The Garden of Megaera. The heat within Her turned searing, and soft grass crunched underfoot.

  Marble statues on raised pedestals loomed on either side of Her, each with an ivory finish and outspread wings. The collection of Saviors was both beautiful and haunting, a graveyard filled with angels instead of tombs. The pinprick of a man was now strong and robust, strolling through the grass yards ahead. A navy cloak draped him, concealing all but his self-assured swagger.

  Phanes. Even from behind, She was sure of it.

  A limp satchel hung over his shoulder. She nearly thought it empty until he clutched it, making certain its contents were safe. She followed a careful distance, timing Her steps with his as Her hand crept down to Her blade. Second by second She came closer, until She could hear the jangling of his gold chains. The hollow-eyed statues were the only spectators in sight. This was going to be easy.

  Phanes glanced over his shoulder, meeting Her gaze, and broke into a sprint.

  Leila plowed after him, but Her stride was no match for his.

  Closer.

  She exploded into flaming light, clearing a stretch of the garden, but not enough. Once more She disappeared, closing the gap between Her and the Senator. His navy cloak was right in front of Her, and She lunged forward, tackling him to the ground.

  The two rolled through the grass, a mess of fabric and legs, until Phanes elbowed Her in the ribs, breaking free of Her hold. As She staggered to Her feet with Her blade drawn, he was already waiting for Her, his own dagger in hand.

  “Who’s the traitor?” Leila pivoted. “Your source outside these walls. Who are they?”

  “Your father knows everything,” Phanes said. “You realize this, yes?”

  “Answer My question.”

  “You killed Qar. The others before him. It’s an ambitious plan, though quite basic. I’m disappointed. I always took You for a strategic—”

  Leila swung Her blade, grazing his tunic. He swerved away, steadying himself before resuming his stance.

  “Gelanor and Toma were old men.” His breathing was even, unfazed. “You’ve overstepped Your capabilities this time, I’m afraid.”

  Clenching Her fists, She disintegrated into white-hot rays, reappearing on his back. She wrapped Her arms and legs around him as he thrashed, slamming Her blade deep into muscle.

  A howl tore from his throat as they collapsed. Perhaps the blow was fatal—perhaps he’d fall limp beneath Her—but still he flapped and squawked like a wounded duck. Her blade was wedged in his shoulder. Dammit. She yanked the steel from his flesh.

  “Guards!” he barked.

  Footsteps pounded behind Her. Two armored guards fresh off their morning watch charged toward them, one with a sword in hand, the other carrying a torch.

  Phanes struggled beneath Her. “Help me!”

  Hands grabbed Her shoulders, hoisting Her from the Senator with ease. Her hood fell, exposing Her disheveled hair and glowing skin, and the guards gasped.

  “Your Holiness?” The guard brought his torch in closer as if to get a better look.

  She strained against their grasps. “Stand back!”

  “The Queen’s gone mad!” Clutching his bloodied shoulder, Phanes staggered to his feet. “She’s lost Her mind!”

  “Let go of Me!” She spat.

  “I found Her here, idolizing the statues. Worshipping the mad Savior. She’s lost Her senses, just as Megaera had. I fear it’s genetic.”

  “He’s lying! He’s trying to kill Me!”

  “Do you hear
Her?” Phanes’s eyes grew large. “I knew She was troubled, but I never expected such lunacy.”

  Profanities filled Leila’s mouth. She dug Her heels into the grass, fighting for freedom. “Unhand Me! That’s an order!”

  The guards looked Her over, then turned to Phanes. “Apologies, Senator. We’ll take Her to His Highness.”

  “That’s for the best,” Phanes said.

  “Don’t you dare!” She thrashed as the guards dragged Her away. “He’s trying to kill Me!”

  “Be safe, men.” A grin crept across Phanes’s lips. “Blessed be The Savior.”

  Rage bellowed through Her, and She closed Her eyes, allowing Her light to swallow Her up.

  The hands around Her disappeared. Instead She loomed behind one of the guards who stared slack-jawed at the spot where Leila once stood. Whipping Her arm around him, She swiped Her blade across his throat.

  The guard fell to his knees, clutching at the spewing gash. His counterpart gaped as She barreled toward him, then dropped his torch, attempting to flee.

  “I don’t want to do this,” She said. “But you’ve left Me no choice.”

  “Your Holiness—”

  She slammed the sharpened steel into his eye, knocking his helmet off center. He wobbled in place as She yanked the blade from his skull, blood spurting from the ragged socket before his legs gave way.

  She spun around. Phanes was already running off across the garden, and he disappeared behind thick, black smoke.

  The grass was on fire.

  Flames bled from the guard’s fallen torch, slithering across the ground like serpents. There wasn’t time for this. Someone would see, and Phanes was—

  Where was he?

  Fire nipped at Leila’s heels, and She stumbled away, scanning the garden. Phanes was nowhere to be found, and with no other options, She bolted down the path he had taken. Skidding to a halt, She glanced frantically between the manicured trees, the marble statues. Green and white stretched endlessly ahead, while waves of orange roared behind Her.

  Navy fluttered in the distance—the hem of the Senator’s cloak as he darted behind a statue.