by Jenna Moreci
Take Me to him.
She sprinted, blinded by light once, twice, each surge of power bringing Her closer. Phanes zigzagged between the marble figures, and She trained Her eyes on his cloak, fighting to ignore the raging heat. One last burst of light, and She was behind him, slamming him face-first into the ground.
They scrambled in a pile, Leila fighting to subdue him while fishing for Her blade. He flipped Her over effortlessly, pinning Her beneath his heavy frame.
“You’re making this very difficult.” His voice came out in grunts. “We’ve been given explicit instructions not to kill You yet. But I will hurt You if I must.”
He shoved the side of Her face into the dirt. Heat filled Her nostrils, and orange flickered in Her periphery, the flames inching toward Her face. She writhed beneath him, but he tightened his grip, pressing his pelvis into Hers. The fire spread closer, threatening to singe Her dress, Her hair. She bit into Phanes’s finger.
Crying out, he cradled his hand while the taste of salt and metal coated Her lips. She kneed him in the groin and wriggled out of the fire’s reach.
“Who’s the traitor?” She straddled him, swatting his flailing arms. “Who’s Brontes working with?”
He punched Her in the gut, forcing the air from Her lungs. Another solid blow, and She crumpled at his side, more pained by Her show of weakness than Her throbbing stomach. A hand clamped over Her mouth, and a sick smile spread across Phanes’s face, perhaps because he was on top of Her, or because of his fleeting power. Whatever it was, She loathed it—his grin, his touch, his existence.
“God, I wish I could kill You.” He dug his fingers into Her cheeks, forcing all his weight against Her. “All this would be over by now if I could just—”
Kill him. Phanes disappeared behind white rays, the light within Her lifting Her high. When Her vision returned, She stood paces behind the Senator, staring down at him. He started, baffled by the emptiness beneath him.
“What the—?”
She plunged Her blade into the back of his neck.
His garbled choking coalesced with the crackling fire. She dug Her weapon in deeper before pulling it free, wiping it off on Her cloak as Phanes dropped to the ground.
Blazing orange stretched far ahead, lapping at the statue pedestals. Countless marble faces stared down at Her, their gazes lifeless, their arms open wide. A familiar ivory figure lingered a short distance away.
“Forgive Me, Mother.”
A condemning quiet hung in the air, followed by distant shouting. Guards were headed Her way, barely visible through the rising flames. She dug through Phanes’s pockets—empty—then snatched up his satchel and summoned Her light.
Canvas tents surrounded Her, along with black brick walls. She hadn’t given Her light specific instructions, just to take Her someplace comfortable, someplace safe. But the sanctuary, of all places?
Voices bounced off the walls. The men were already present, resting after whatever horrors they had endured. Leila wove between the tents, nestling into a darkened corner and digging through the procured satchel. An empty coin purse, a slip of parchment folded in half, and a long, glittering string of topaz.
A necklace?
“Leila.”
Deep brown eyes connected with Hers. Tobias was headed Her way, and Her throat went dry as he drew near.
“Tobias.” She stuffed the necklace into Phanes’s satchel. “You’re back.”
“I wanted to speak with you.” He took Her arm, guiding Her behind one of the tents. “Cosima… She knows you gave me Her blessing.”
The reward. It had left Her thoughts, but now it weighed heavily in Her mind and in Her chest. “Yes, I imagine She does.”
“But She insisted She wouldn’t tell the Sovereign. Said you were Her sister—that She would never wish to harm you.”
“That sounds like Cosima,” She said.
“You need to know, I didn’t tell Her it was you. She just…knew. I don’t know how, but She did. Believe me when I tell you, I said nothing.”
A familiar scent permeated the air, overpowering the musty stench of the sanctuary.
Cosima’s rose perfume.
Saliva pooled in Leila’s mouth. “I believe you.”
“Good.” He exhaled. “I was worried.”
The rose scent surrounded them, pungent enough to make Her sick. Cosima’s perfume was all over Tobias—as were her hands, her body, her lips. He was quite skilled with his tongue. The way he touched me was ravenous. Cosima’s words echoed in Leila’s skull, another torture She didn’t need, certainly not while Tobias stared at Her with that penetrating gaze—a gaze She adored. A gaze She hated.
“Well, your concern is much appreciated.” She turned away, fumbling with Phanes’s satchel. “Is that all?”
Tobias faltered. “Pardon?”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you hurt?” She said. “Did you injure yourself on the way back from your reward? Do you need my assistance in any way?”
Tobias furrowed his brow. “Well, no, I’m fine, I just thought—”
“You thought what?”
“You and I, we usually…talk.”
Anger rose through Leila’s chest. They used to talk. Not anymore.
“Tobias, I’m the Healer. I’m here to heal. Not to give you my undivided attention.”
Tobias hesitated. “Leila, I’m confused. Do you want me to leave you alone?”
“If you haven’t anything further to discuss, then yes, I would like that very much, actually.”
His face dropped. Long seconds passed before he stepped aside.
“All right,” he muttered.
She swerved around him, fighting to get as far away as possible. A stabbing pain pierced Her chest—resentment, hurt, emotions She was ashamed to feel. This was for the best, even if it wounded Her.
Forcing Tobias from Her thoughts, Leila focused on the satchel. She scooted aside the necklace and empty coin purse, plucking up the folded parchment—a note written in a foreign tongue. Kovahrian?
“Healer girl.”
She had nearly forgotten where She was. The nearby men were marked with deep scratches as if having fought off an army of cats, and a massive pit sat in the floor at the head of the sanctuary—an endless abyss as grim as Her mood. Shoving the note into Her satchel, She trudged toward one of the men. No bandages, no perfumes; She groaned, rolling Her eyes and catching Tobias in Her periphery. He sat with his comrades playing their card game. Her card game. He doesn’t even care.
Moving from man to man, She cleaned their wounds with canvas scraps and water from the leaking barrels, all the while stewing over the foreign note. Definitely Kovahrian. But She was familiar with their language, and these words were obscure to Her. Finding Phanes was supposed to answer Her questions, not create more of them.
“Healer girl!” Neil dragged Her from Her station, pulling Her toward his usual group. Beau sat alongside the pit, while Caesar kicked pebbles into the nothingness. Catching Her gaze, he bared his sinewy back—lined with the same scratches as every other man—and She went to work washing his wounds, Her mind still on the parchment.
Neil pinched Her hip, hovering close. “You’re awfully quiet today.”
“Does she usually talk much?” Beau said. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Are you sad?” Neil nuzzled against Her neck. “Is it because you missed me?”
Leila elbowed him in the gut, sending Beau and Caesar bursting into laughter. Gritting Her teeth, She tended to Caesar’s wounds simply to occupy Her hands. The lingering warmth of Neil’s cheek against Hers reminded Her of Phanes’s hands on Her face, Brontes’s grip on Her throat…
“Someone’s in a sour mood.” Neil stumbled away, pretending Her jab hadn’t hurt. “Probably hasn’t had a good romp in some time.”
“Or ever,” Caesar scoffed.
“You think she’s pure?” Beau eyed Her over. “I suppose sh
e looks it. You can tell with ladies. They wear it right on their faces.”
“Is that so? Are you actually pure?” Grinning, Neil slid his hands around Her waist. “I can fix that for you.”
Leila pulled away, Her jaw tight. Phanes wasn’t in the forefront of Her mind any longer—it was the all-consuming fire that had ravaged the garden. She could’ve sworn the flames had followed Her into the sanctuary, had made a home inside Her.
“Healer girl, when are you going to give us a peek beneath your cloak?”
Neil lifted the hem of Her cloak with his foot, and She yanked it away. “Just as soon as you stop being such a worthless ass.”
“She’s a bit bitchy, isn’t she?” Beau said.
“Nonsense, she’s simply a good judge of character.” Caesar chuckled.
“Lies. She’s playing.” Neil spoke into Leila’s ear. “You like me, don’t you? Tell them you like me.”
His lips brushed against Her flesh, and She recoiled. “I’d like you much better if you’d finally shut your mouth.”
The surrounding Lords laughed, fueling Neil’s resolve. “Healer girl, now you’re just being cold. And I’d much prefer you warm…and wet.”
His hands moved quickly, sliding beneath Her cloak and grabbing Her breasts. Leila tore free from his assault and spun toward him, not bothering to restrain the inferno within Her. “Touch me one more time, and I swear it will be the last thing you do.”
Neil glanced between his friends. “Did you hear her? Healer girl, was that a threat…” he dragged his fingers down Her neck, circling Her breast, “…or a dare?”
Leila shoved his chest, sending him plummeting into the pit.
His screams echoed from the abyss, a song that slowed the racing of Her heartbeat. The ghost of his hands on Her skin faded as soon as his cries disappeared.
Exhaling, She swung Phanes’s satchel over Her shoulder. The sanctuary had gone silent, each man now staring at Her.
“What?” She said. “He wasn’t going to win anyway.”
She left the sanctuary, untroubled for the first time all day.
15
The Game
Leila dragged Her finger over the parchment, tracing each curve of the Kovahrian letters. Deciphering this note was of the utmost importance—a fact She had reminded Herself of a thousand times, yet Her thoughts were on Tobias, Cosima, and what they most certainly did together. She saw him undressing her, his face buried between her legs, the visions like needles lancing Her eyes.
Groaning, She snatched up the note, the necklace, and Phanes’s empty coin purse, shoving them into Her pockets and leaving Her chamber.
Asher stood at Her door, flushing at the sight of Her. He opened his mouth to speak but wavered, offering a nod instead. Clearing Her throat, Leila walked on.
Cosima was headed down the corridor. Oh, for God’s sake. No doubt she’d have words about her reward, stories Leila had no interest in enduring. She turned on Her heel, bounding in the opposite direction.
Safely out of sight, Leila hurried up the grand staircase where a vast window displayed the palace courtyard. Servants in straw hats made their way past the marble fountain toward the fortress gardens, some with baskets hoisted onto their hips, others carrying contraptions Leila couldn’t place, no doubt for manual labor.
Brontes stopped at Her side, an understated crown on his head to match the gold stitching of his drape. He stared out the window, and She tried to mirror his casualness despite the stiffness of Her muscles.
“Where’s everyone headed?” She said. Brontes snorted, and She straightened. “Your Holiness asked a question.”
“There was a fire. Servants were called to clear the mess.”
“A fire?” She shrugged. “The weather has been particularly dry.”
“How was Your reward with Your friend?”
“Pardon?”
“The Artist,” he said. “What did you do together? Or are the details too intimate to share?”
Leila scowled. “He’s not My friend.”
“He and I had a very revealing conversation the other day. I understand now why You’re drawn to him. He’s arrogant, like You. Dares to mock those who stand above him. Of course my daughter favors a smart mouth.”
“I’m so sorry he hurt your feelings.”
Leaning against the window, he came in closer. “Three bodies were found in the fire. Senator Phanes was among them. You wouldn’t know anything about that, my little Dark One, would You?”
“Isn’t that how fire works? It kills those who get too close.”
Brontes’s eye narrowed, and Leila made sure to give parting before his silence ended. “Send My sympathies to Phanes’s family. Or did he not have any? I suppose no one will miss him, then.”
She flitted off, glad to be rid of Her father’s gaze. Taking to Her study, She gathered Her cloak and satchel before disappearing to the labyrinth. Today marked another challenge, and though She wasn’t sure of its nature, it had to be better than spending another second with Brontes.
The darkened tunnel led to one of the many viewing rooms, though this one was different from the others. Beyond the four onyx thrones and invisible shield was a large, oddly constructed table, its surface a mess of metal rods and springs with evenly dispersed tiles sitting atop them.
Blonde tangles burst into Leila’s line of sight. “You’re here!” Pippa said. “You’re just in time. We’re playing a game!”
Leila gestured toward the table. “What is…?” Her voice trailed off—the ceramic tiles were laid out in a perfect square like canvas cards. “Oh. Match the Eye.”
“Finally, She reveals Herself!” Cosima fluttered to Leila’s side. “I haven’t seen You in days, it feels like. My little bird, floating off with the breeze. I absolutely must tell You of the last reward. You will be astounded.”
Leila’s gut heaved. Footsteps echoed from the adjacent portal, and Romulus entered the room.
“Not now, Cosima, the challenge is beginning.” Taking Her seat, Leila flicked Her wrist at Romulus. “Go on. Bring them in.”
Romulus gave Her a sideways glance before obeying. Waiting for Cosima and Pippa to lose themselves in conversation, Delphi claimed the throne at Leila’s side and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “I met with the men today.”
“Is that so?”
“One seemed especially dejected. Would You like to guess who?”
Leila rolled Her eyes. She knew what was coming.
“His face.” Delphi sighed. “It was heartbreaking, truly. Like a pouting puppy dog. And those eyes. Have You seen them when they’re sad? I swear they grow larger.”
“Stop it.”
“I will not.”
“I’m ordering you to.”
“Oh, fuck Your orders,” Delphi said. “I am Your sister, Your advisor, and Your friend. And I will tell You when You’re being foolish.”
“So, get on with it.”
“You’re being foolish.”
“Good. Now it’s done.”
Silence, save for the prattling of Pippa and Cosima. Leila was glad for the moment of peace, until Delphi turned to Her, sticking out her bottom lip.
“Why are you looking at Me like that?” Leila said.
“This is what he looked like.” Delphi fluttered her lashes. “I’m sure I’m not doing him justice. I don’t have the eyes.”
“God, I swear…”
The men filed into the room, each wearing a befuddled expression as they took their place around the table. Leila nearly smiled at the conspicuous absence of Neil—until She spotted Tobias.
“Welcome to your fifth challenge,” Romulus droned. “The twelve of you have proven yourselves stronger and truer than those who have fallen. We have tested your brawn, your valor, and your heart, and you have shown yourselves worthy enough to continue on in the pursuit of our Savior’s hand. Still, there is one facet of your being we have yet to test: your mind.”
Light spewed from the ceramic tiles like geyse
rs, fading to reveal symbols in black ink. Most of the men stared at the painted swords, hearts, and chalices in confusion, while looks of realization swept the faces of a few. Raphael. Zander.
Tobias.
“Before you is a game,” Romulus said. “One that tests the soundness of your mind. Each tile holds a symbol. Learn their place on this table, and pray your memory serves you well, for these symbols will disappear in three, two, one, zero.”
Another surge of light, and the symbols faded from the tile surfaces.
As Romulus rambled off the game’s instructions, Delphi leaned toward Leila. “This was Your choice? Match the Eye?”
“What?” Leila said. “I chose at random.”
“You randomly chose the exact game Tobias plays each day in the sanctuary? One he can easily survive without strain or harm?”
“You jump to conclusions.”
“For each correct match you give, you will continue on in this challenge,” Romulus said. “But answer incorrectly, and the consequence will be…unpleasant.”
A snap echoed off the walls, and a spring-loaded mallet shot up from beneath one of the ceramic tiles, smashing it.
Leila sat tall, pretending Her gut wasn’t churning. “See?”
Romulus called the men one by one to take their turn, starting with Raphael, who played with ease, then Drake, who was surprisingly adept as well. Leila lost interest in the challenge, drawn to more important matters. Her satchel sat on the floor beside Her, and She nudged it with Her heel, giving Her a glimpse of topaz—one gem for each question She desperately needed answers to.
“Brontes knows about Phanes,” She whispered.
Delphi scoffed. “Everyone knows about Phanes.”
“I couldn’t get him to talk, but I did retrieve his things. They’re…puzzling at best. We have much to discuss.”
“We most certainly do. At a later time.”
“What do you mean?”
Delphi cocked Her head at the table, where Flynn was taking his turn. “There’s a challenge at hand.”
“Since when do you care about the tournament?”
“Artist,” Romulus announced. “Your move.”