by Jenna Moreci
“I’m in a very dangerous position—”
“And I’m not?”
Stupid, selfish man. Or perhaps he wasn’t. Perhaps She would do the same in his position, or worse. But that didn’t matter now. She had Her own assassination to prevent. She didn’t need another burden.
“I think I’m being quite agreeable,” Raphael said. “I’m not asking You to choose me as Your Champion. I’m not threatening to reveal Your true self to the others—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing—”
“I’m only asking that You release me.” His gaze turned desperate. “Please, Leila. Or Your Holiness. Should I call You—?”
“Shut up.” Leila gnawed at Her lip, Her thoughts swirling. Kill him. God, why was that always the first solution to spring up?
“You won’t say a word?” She squared Her shoulders. “Swear it to Me, as your One True Savior.”
“I swear it. Provided You release me, no one will know who You are.”
Protests lingered on Her tongue, but She forced past them. “Fine.”
Raphael faltered. “So, I’m released?”
“Not now, you idiot. There are formalities. Two men are to be honorably released from the tournament. I’ll see to it you’re one of them.”
“Sooner rather than later, yes?”
“I agreed to your game,” She said. “Don’t push Me. I don’t take kindly to it.”
Raphael let out a long breath. “Well then, now that that’s out of the way, I suppose we can speak more freely. I’ll be honest, a part of me is relieved. Cosima plays the role well, but You on the throne makes some sense.”
Leila scowled. “You’re too kind.”
“I just mean You seem a capable queen. It’s a good thing.” He tried to lean on his knees, then cringed, opting to sit up straight instead. “What I can’t believe is that Tobias figured it out before I did. The man is smarter than the others, but still…”
“He knows?” Leila snapped.
“Doesn’t he? Why else would You keep blessing him?”
Heat flooded Leila’s cheeks. She turned away, fiddling with Her satchel while Raphael’s penetrating stare burrowed through the back of Her skull.
“Oh my God,” he said. “The two of you? Together?”
“Not another word, I swear.”
“That’s why he’s always disappearing, isn’t it? I just assumed he went off to beat his meat. Then again, no one takes that long to beat their meat.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Unless someone else is doing it for them.”
“I am not beating his meat. Tobias is a true gentleman, and you are a filthy degenerate.”
Leila picked at the ends of Her hair. Dammit. First the servant girls, now Raphael. Each day, Her life was a bit more complicated.
Raphael cleared his throat. “So the two of you are…involved…but he doesn’t know You’re The Savior?”
“And I aim to keep it that way. For now.” She took in his judgmental gaze and set Her jaw. “It’s a matter of safety.”
“Well, I don’t understand how that can be so. And I don’t understand why You visit the sanctuary so frequently.”
“I thought You didn’t care about what I do or why I do it.”
“I’m just saying, if You’re so keen on hiding Yourself, why come down here at all? To bless us?”
“Of course not,” She said. “Blessings are for special circumstances. Like a man bleeding to death.”
“Or Tobias, whatever his circumstances are.”
Her eyes shrank into a glare. “Interesting. A man of loose morals wanting the same treatment as a man who is just and good.”
“I’m trying to survive. Surely You can understand.”
She did understand—too well, actually—but Her contempt remained all the same. “I’ve finished.” She cocked Her head at the tent flap. “Go on then. And—”
“Not a word. I know.” Wincing, he stood. “I’ll be waiting for news of my release.”
Leila’s eyes traced the second half of his bite as he hobbled toward the opening. “Raphael.”
He turned, meeting Her gaze.
“Don’t make Me regret saving your life,” She said.
“I’m pleased to hear You don’t already. I assumed You did.”
He disappeared, taking none of the tension with him. Leila turned away, resting Her hands on the table as She sucked in a strained breath. Another mess. She didn’t bother going through them all; there were far too many at this point, and Her schemes were buckling from the sheer weight of each mishap.
Footsteps sounded behind Her, and She snatched up Her blade and spun around.
Tobias—eyes wide and hands high. She dropped Her weapon. “Tobias…”
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You’re awfully bold…” She slid Her blade into its sheath, “…charging in here without warning.”
“It’s difficult, you know… Being so close to you, but not being able to so much as look in your direction. Not being able to touch you.”
A full breath filled Her lungs. Pink and yellow dusted the air around Tobias, painting the tent, and the tension within Her faded away.
“We’re alone now,” She said.
Tobias glanced over his shoulder. “But they’re just outside.”
“Where’s your boldness now?”
A grin bloomed across his face, and between that and the keys in Her satchel, Leila allowed Herself to forget Raphael, Her father, and the rest of Her burdens. Everything is so wrong.
But not this.
18
The Message
Tobias’s hands slid up from Her waist, settling on Her cheeks. Leila wrapped Her arms around him; a few days ago She would’ve felt bold doing so, but somehow it had become natural, easy. The noise of the sanctuary was muffled, the tent around them a hidden refuge of their own making. His gaze danced across Her, taking Her in.
“What?” She said.
“Nothing.” He threaded his fingers through Her loose locks. “I like your hair.”
The braids. She had forgotten about them. “Oh God, that. The servant girls, they held me hostage. Tried to do something different. You can ignore it.”
He drew Her in close. “I will do no such thing.”
His stubble tickled Her chin as he kissed Her, rendering Her fluid and weak—a welcome release. Each day She stood on Her own. How wonderful it was to lean on someone, if only for a while.
A rustling sounded, and She tore Her lips from his, eyes locking on the tent flap.
Nothing happened.
Tobias sighed. “This probably isn’t the smartest idea.”
“Right. We could be discovered at any moment.”
Her stare remained, waiting for some headache to reveal itself. But then Tobias was taking Her chin, was bringing Her closer, and suddenly his lips were pressed to Hers.
“Tobias.”
“What?”
“I thought this wasn’t the smartest idea.”
“It isn’t.” He spoke between short, sweet pecks. “It’s very, very stupid. But I’m still going to kiss you.”
Lost in a fit of giggles, Leila buried Her face into Tobias’s neck, only for him to guide Her lips back to his. “You know, you should’ve never allowed me to kiss you in the first place,” he said. “I fear I’ve become insatiable.”
“I don’t mind.”
She dragged Her fingers through his curls, and soon after he was kissing Her, lingering on Her bottom lip as if it were a wedge of candy. His touch was firm and tender, and despite the eagerness of his gaze, his hands never once strayed from Her back, Her hair. Something about his arms around Her felt like safety—the antithesis of every other facet of Her life.
Tension shot down Her spine. She was thinking about it—Her father, Cosima, the terrors She battled each day. Why did Her troubles have to plague Her even in moments such as these?
“Is something wrong?” Tobias said.
She shook He
rself. “I was just thinking…about the challenge yesterday.”
“Oh God, what a mess that was. Fucking Flynn running off at the mouth, all because of that blessing. I hadn’t a clue She did that, for the record.”
Her cheeks burned. “Trust me, no one was more surprised by that than I was.”
“I don’t even want to think of Her. The Savior, willing to let a man die in front of Her. It disgusts me. She disgusts me.”
His words pierced Her to the bone, a blow She hadn’t seen coming. She composed Herself. “The entire challenge was horrific. Did Kaleo try to drown you?”
“He did.”
“Are you all right?”
“Better than all right.” He took Her hands. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“The way the Proctor spoke to you, it was appalling. You didn’t deserve that.”
Leila rolled Her eyes. “Yes, well, the Proctor has a personal problem with me that goes back quite some time.”
“Then I have a personal problem with him,” Tobias said.
“Haven’t you made enough enemies because of me?”
“What do you mean?”
Leila raised an eyebrow. “I heard about your little visit with Brontes.”
“Oh. That.”
“And I heard you were very, very bad.”
“The man’s a cock,” Tobias said. “A deplorable, one-eyed shit. I don’t like him at all.”
“Still, I must insist you tread lightly. Don’t alert his attention, not any more than you have. Than I have.” She cradled Her forehead. “God, this is all my fault.”
“Your fault? Because of the clay? The blessing?”
“I’ve put a target on your back.”
Tobias scoffed. “I’d rather be targeted than dead.”
“Still…”
“Leila, you saved my life. For that, I am eternally grateful.” He took Her face in his hands. “The Sovereign can scowl at me all he pleases—”
“He can do more than scowl.”
“Then I’ll handle his offenses as they come.”
“Tobias, you don’t understand,” She said. “The man’s dangerous.”
She clenched Her jaw, fighting to still Herself. So much had changed since the start of the tournament. Her life wasn’t the only one at risk.
“Leila, if something’s troubling you, you can tell me,” Tobias said.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll stay away from him. That you’ll avoid his line of sight.”
“If it gives you peace, then I’ll do it.”
She exhaled. “Thank you.”
Her worries didn’t lift. A part of Her wondered if She should tell him more—until his words echoed between Her ears.
She disgusts me.
Tobias’s fingertips traveled up and down Her back, a soft caress. Resting Her head against his shoulder, She mirrored his touch, sweeping his chest with spiraling strokes. She waited for color to swirl from his skin, but nothing happened.
“What are you thinking?” She whispered.
“I’m wondering how long I can get away with being here before people notice I’m gone.”
“Not long, I imagine. You’ve become rather popular.”
“Know I’d stay here all day if I could.” He shook his head. “God, I can’t believe that’s even an option. A day of rest. I don’t know why the Sovereign suddenly deems us worthy of kindness.”
“It’s a formality of the tournament, not a kindness. Don’t allow yourself to be fooled. Brontes knows nothing of that word.”
Tobias grabbed Her hand, stopping Her invisible artwork. “Whatever it is, I’ll take advantage of it, and spend my time with you.”
Her heart throbbed, and reprieve only came once his lips found their way to Hers. Each kiss was a drop of wine, and She was content to stand there pressed against him until She drank the chalice down.
A man barged into the tent, skidding to an abrupt halt.
Tobias spun toward the intruder. “Enzo…”
The Kovahrian glanced between them, while Leila stood frozen, nails digging into Tobias. This is what happened when She allowed Herself to be happy—to forget.
“I seen nothing.” Enzo shrugged, calm, even chipper. “You two were having the conversation, nothing more. I go.” He turned on his heel only to stop short. “I stand outside. If someone want in, I direct elsewhere. You can finish the talking amongst together, eh?”
He was gone seconds later, but Leila remained paralyzed, eyes trained on the spot where he once stood.
“Oh my God.” Tobias exhaled. “I swear I stopped breathing. Mother of shit…”
“That shouldn’t have happened,” Leila said. “We need to be more careful.”
“You’re right. God, that could’ve gone horribly wrong.”
Her insides whirled, roused into a panic. “We should go after him.”
“No, it’s all right. We can trust him.”
“You’re sure?”
“He owes me.”
She only barely heard him, Her thoughts howling for action—for Enzo’s blood on Her hands, another mouth silenced. But a soft touch broke through the spell, as Tobias glided his fingers through Her hair.
“Well then, I suppose we ought to finish our conversation, yes?” he said.
Enzo’s footsteps crunched as he paced in front of the tent, standing guard as promised. Perhaps forgetting wasn’t the worst thing She could do. Perhaps a little recklessness was exactly what She needed. She stood on Her toes and kissed Tobias, leaving Enzo a burden for another day.
Kastor’s voice faded into the back of Leila’s mind as he rambled off whatever was on the parchment in front of him. Another Senate meeting, another string of formalities, more amendments and decrees She’d have no power to influence. Instead, She reveled in the memory of Tobias’s lips and their easy conversation shared in whispers and giggles. A grin threatened to streak Her face, but She forced it back.
“All those in favor of additional military recruitment?” Kastor said.
The men around Leila raised their hands, while Hers remained folded in Her lap—as if Her opinion made any difference.
Brontes counted the votes. “Erebus, begin the process tomorrow. See to it that our forces are doubled.” He scribbled on his scroll. “What of the tournament?”
Wembleton jolted upright. “As it stands, twelve men remain. Four Beasts—may the Giant find eternal peace in the next life. Two Stalwarts—a surprise, they typically fare rather well. Four Lords, as it appears one went missing between challenges. And two Savants.”
“I thought the Intellect was dead,” Brontes said.
“It seems he’s made a full recovery.”
Brontes frowned. “The people. What of their word?”
“Your Shepherd and Dragon continue to garner favor among nobility. The lords of Thessen trust the approval of their Sovereign.”
“And the commoners?”
Wembleton’s gaze shied away. “It appears they favor the Artist.”
Leila fixed a blank expression on Her face, but Her fingernails dug into the meat of Her palms.
Brontes’s eye narrowed. “Why?”
“M-mostly due to his performance as of late, particularly in the battle against the Giant.” Wembleton’s face reddened as he read over his scroll. “They’re calling him the Giant Slayer. And the Keeper of Kin. And the Man with the Purest Intent…among other things.”
Brontes shifted his attention to Leila, his one eye boring into Hers.
“Is there something on My face?” She said.
Brontes’s stare lingered for an unbearable second before darting away. “This is hardly surprising. Common folk will surely favor a common man. The tide will shift upon his inevitable death.” He gestured toward Erebus. “Give Her the order.”
Erebus tore a slip of parchment from his belt and tossed it Her way. Apprehensive, She unfolded it, taking in the weathered ink: The Savior’s Choice, followed
by wordy instructions.
“Tomorrow marks the halfway point of the tournament,” Erebus said. “A man is to be honorably released. You will choose him.”
“The Shepherd.” She pushed the slip aside. “Next topic.”
Kastor scratched his beard, his brow creased. “Apologies, Your Holiness, but a man with the Sovereign’s blessing cannot be removed at this point in time.”
“Says who?”
“Says the law.”
He passed another slip Her way—clean and unbent at the edges, still chalky to touch. A tournament regulation She had never heard of until this moment, written with such detail, as if the matter was of grave importance. She slid Her finger through the ink, creating a long, black smudge across the page. Fresh.
“Think wisely while making Your choice,” Brontes said. “You could squander this power, or You could use it to spare the life of a man who will most certainly meet a slow and deserving end otherwise.”
Her blood simmered within Her veins. Tobias was Brontes’s mark. This was all the confirmation She needed.
“I’ll have My answer by tonight.”
A knock sounded at the door, and a servant girl hesitantly came in. “Your Holiness, it’s time for Your fitting.”
“Can’t we postpone—?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kastor said. “Matters of The Savior are of the utmost importance. Your care is our greatest concern.” He slid his hand across the table, stopping just shy of Her fingertips. “We can cover the rest another time.”
“Who calls to end this meeting?” Brontes grumbled.
“I do.”
“Second.”
The Senators filed from the room, but Leila wasn’t finished yet. Stopping beside the doorway, She waited as each man passed until only one remained. She slammed the door shut, sealing him in.
Silence filled the space between them. Romulus stood in calm acceptance, while visions of the last challenge ravaged Leila’s mind—of Raphael bleeding out in Tobias’s arms and the mess that followed soon after.
“I have news regarding the day’s events.” Romulus folded his hands, speaking evenly. “The men are to navigate the labyrinth. There is one particularly lethal obstacle along their route, but their odds of encountering it are as low as can be hoped for. I realize this information isn’t suited to Your endeavors, but I thought You might find it agreeable given Your recent interest in…certain competitors.”