by Jenna Moreci
Leila allowed Her glare to speak for Her.
“I crossed a line the other day,” he said. “My intention was to help maintain Your façade.”
“Your intention was to rebuild Your shattered pride by breaking mine. Do I appear broken to you?”
“I see now the error in my ways.”
She was quiet for a moment longer. “Do you remember Anker, former page to the Sovereign? He’s the one who first told Me Brontes’s plans were in motion, though he did so quite reluctantly. He was so loyal to Brontes. Saw him as a father. I thought that strange, given how Brontes treats his kin.”
She plucked Her blade from its sheath, trailing Her fingers along its edge. “I tried to be reasonable, coax the details from him gently—a stab here and there—but he refused. So I cut off his toes one by one, then his fingers, until finally he gave to Me what I required.” She met Romulus’s gaze. “I don’t pride Myself on these tactics, but steps must be taken to handle those who disobey.”
Romulus’s stare didn’t waver. She came in closer, Her weapon on display.
“I know how deeply you despise Me,” She said. “But I am the only thing keeping you from death. If any part of you values your life, then you’d be wise to remember that.”
“It will never happen again.”
He waited for Her order before leaving in haste. Shaking off the unpleasant chill of Her own words, Leila abandoned the Senate room and the fetid animosity that came with it.
She reached Her dressing room, pacing the tiled floor to pass the time. No Cecily—clearly Her fitting wasn’t ready, and the Senate meeting had been cut short for no reason at all. Why that bothered Her, She hadn’t a clue, but the meeting had left Her tightly wound, stirring up worries She wished She could forget.
The door opened. Just Delphi.
“You don’t mind if I join You, yes? I’ve been bored all day.” Delphi took a seat on a floral couch, dragging her fingers over its gold stitching. “Cosima was right about this room. It’s a feast for the eyes. So much pink. You should bring us here more often.”
“Enzo knows,” Leila said.
Delphi sat up straight. “That You’re The Savior?”
“About Me and Tobias.”
Slumping, Delphi rolled her eyes. “And?”
“What do you mean? This is a huge complication! Tobias and I are committing treason!”
“Except you’re not.” Delphi toyed with a ruby diadem. “Because You’re The Savior.”
“But Enzo doesn’t know that. He could have Tobias condemned.”
“And You could reverse the punishment.”
“And reveal the switch in the process?”
“Oh,” Delphi said. “I suppose that is a bit complicated.”
Sighing, Leila resumed Her pacing. “Tobias says we can trust him. But…I don’t know…”
“Of course You don’t. You don’t trust anyone.”
“I’m glad My troubles amuse you.”
“Sister, if I wet myself over every misfortune, I’d have no pretty dresses left to wear.” Delphi kicked her legs onto the couch’s armrest. “Brontes is down one assassin and many constituents. We’re progressing, troubles or none.”
The door opened, and two servants glided into the space: Cecily, her fluffy curls bouncing atop her shoulders, and Mousumi, dour per usual.
“Apologies. I hope You haven’t been waiting long.” Cecily nestled up beside Leila, pulling yarn from her pocket and wrapping Her waist. “Just measurements today. Mousumi requires some details as well.”
The servant keeper whipped out a scroll and scanned it over. “Tomorrow, Your suitors will join us in the palace—”
“Suitors?” Leila said.
“The competitors of Your father’s tournament. They’re leaving the labyrinth tomorrow.”
Leila stammered, “Apologies. I suppose I never saw them as…suitors.”
“Child, they’re here to marry You.” Cecily chuckled, looking up from her measurements. “Of course they’re Your suitors. Fine ones, I’m sure.”
“Their accommodations are being prepared,” Mousumi continued. “Two to three to a room, depending on the numbers.”
“Have you chosen their chambers?” Leila said.
Mousumi scanned her scroll. “The Dragon is paired with the Shepherd. The Prince with the Hunter. The Artist with the Intellect—”
“Switch them.”
Mousumi faltered. “Come again?”
“The Artist can stay with the Hunter. Place the Intellect with the Prince.”
The room fell silent as Cecily and Mousumi glanced between one another, perplexed.
“What a kind gesture.” Delphi smiled. “The Prince and the Intellect have become fast friends.”
Cecily nodded, and Mousumi turned to her scroll. “It’s custom for The Savior to bestow a gift to each suitor. Have You any preferences?”
Colors swirled through Leila’s thoughts—paints of all shades, endless slips of canvas, all for Tobias. “I’ll give it some thought.”
Cecily crouched at Leila’s feet, measuring Her hem. “If You ask me, these men have already received the greatest of gifts—Your care and affection. I think the Kovahrians say it best: Neit podratscha bijshespo a chellak vras, uhvük, ie stüktsapul. No gift is more precious than a person’s time, ear, and beating heart.”
Leila’s head perked up. “You speak Kovahrian?”
“My father was a soldier. He’s taught me many lessons from his travels.”
The weight in Leila’s pocket became heavier—Phanes’s note, still a mystery. “What about the various Kovahrian dialects?”
“I know a few, yes. Why do You ask?”
Hesitating, Leila turned to Delphi, who stared back at Her with an eager gaze.
“Is something wrong?” Cecily said.
Leila fished the note from Her pocket. “Could you by chance tell Me what this says?”
Cecily took the note and read it over. Her eyes widened. “Where did You get this? Who gave this to You?”
“What does it say?”
“It’s unspeakable. I can’t.”
“Please, just tell Me—”
Mousumi snatched the slip from Cecily’s grasp and read it aloud. “Death to The Savior, Her line, and all who bathe in Her feeble light. May Thessen waste away beneath the rotting corpse of their Queen.”
Leila faltered. “You can read that?”
“It’s wartongue,” Mousumi said matter-of-factly. “All Kovahrians can read it.”
“You’re Kovahrian?” Delphi eyed Mousumi from the couch, studying her tawny skin, her black hair—a far cry from the pale standard in the north.
Mousumi’s nostrils flared. “My father was Ethyuan.”
“We need to alert the guards,” Cecily said. “Mousumi, fetch Erebus—”
“No.” Leila snatched up the note. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Child, this is clearly a threat.”
“Nonsense,” Delphi added. “It’s certainly little more than a cruel joke.”
“How can you be sure? These are blasphemous words. There’s nothing funny about them.”
“The note was slipped beneath My chamber door,” Leila lied. “I recognize the handwriting. One of My servants—we had an argument the other day. She’s lashing out.”
Mousumi’s voice came out flat. “Shall I have her punished, Your Holiness?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll handle her.” Leila turned to Cecily. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, there’s nothing to fear. I’ll get this straightened away. Now, in fact.” Pocketing the note, She grabbed Delphi. “We’ll be on our way. Thank you for your service.”
The sisters barreled from the dressing room arm-in-arm, waiting a safe distance before speaking. “Did you hear that?” Leila whispered.
“I most certainly did.”
“Death to The Savior. Written in wartongue, whatever that is.” Leila shook Her head. “Kovahr is plotting against Me. After so
many years as allies, they rebel, the pasty bastards.”
“Your father’s source… He must be from the north as well.”
“What exactly is their play? They want Brontes to take My crown—for what purpose? How does it benefit them? And who knows what other aid they provide? Perhaps weapons, coin, spies—”
Leila stopped hard, sending Delphi staggering to a halt along with Her. “Oh My God.” Her chest tightened.
“Enzo.”
Leila dragged Her blade across the smooth stone, its edge glinting against the candlelight. The sun had long since set, and thus Her time would soon belong to the labyrinth. She sat in Her chamber, Her satchel packed, Her weapon sharpened. Strapping it to Her thigh, She sucked in a breath, preparing for what was to come. Tonight’s visit wasn’t for Tobias.
It was for Enzo.
We can trust him. Tobias’s voice rang in Her skull, words She wanted to believe but couldn’t. A part of Her envied his naivety, wished She could have such faith in people, but that instinct had died long ago. She pulled the note from Her pocket, scanning over the thick black letters before crumpling it.
As She clasped Her cloak around Her neck, a knock sounded. “Come in.”
Metal plates clanked behind Her. She glanced over Her shoulder. “Asher. Did you need something?”
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the door. “I know why You’re sneaking around. You’re seeing someone. A man.”
“Yes, I am.”
He wavered. “You are?” He opened his mouth to speak. “But…”
Leila raised Her eyebrows. “But?”
“You’re the…”
“I’m the…?”
“Are You mocking me?”
“How astute of you to notice.”
He frowned. “You can’t sneak off with a man in the middle of the night.”
“And why can’t I?”
“You’re The Savior.”
“I’m The Savior, and thus I cannot do as I please?” She said. “Speak to whomever I want? Make My own decisions?”
“You can do all those things.”
“Then what exactly is your meaning?”
His frown deepened. “You are a gift from God Itself. You are held to a higher standard.”
“You judge Me.” Leila looped Her satchel over Her shoulder. “For spending My time with a man.”
“This behavior is beneath You.”
“Tell Me then, what would you have Me do? Sit alone in My chamber, waiting for some stranger to claim Me as his wife? Is that what you’d do? Would you wait your entire life passively until someone was chosen for you?” She let out a laugh. “We both know you wouldn’t. You couldn’t even wait a full day to stick your cock inside My sister. But I am The Savior, and thus I must wait. Unbelievable. You must think so little of Me to deny Me of the basic freedoms you readily enjoy.”
“Leila—”
She burst into rays of light. The black bricks of the labyrinth appeared around Her, and She charged forward, resolved. Tobias’s voice still echoed between Her ears, claims She had to push aside. He knew nothing of the world She lived in.
Movement flickered in the distance, followed by voices.
“What the fuck is going on?” a man shouted.
She hurried Herself, first jogging, then running until the sanctuary opened up before Her. The men were clustered beyond the fire pit, all eyes on Caesar as he struggled against the wall, pinned by four men—and in the direct center, leading the onslaught, was Tobias.
“Healer girl!” Caesar barked.
Tobias’s head spun toward Leila, but the rest of him didn’t move—not his forearm, which was jammed against Caesar’s throat, nor his opposite shoulder buried in the Lord’s chest.
“Healer girl, stop them!” Caesar writhed, failing to break free. “You have to make them stop!”
Embers floated through the air, a black and red mist emanating from one man. Enzo seethed at the end of the horde, muscles flexed as rage spilled from him like magma. Nearby, Zander lay on the floor, his body limp, his neck twisted.
Another dead man.
Enzo was barely contained where he stood, his colors filling the sanctuary with hatred—for Caesar.
“Healer girl, they’re trying to kill me,” Caesar said. “Make them stop.”
Clarity hit Her in an instant—the dead man on the floor, his paramour’s fury, and even Tobias, not nearly as naive as She had assumed.
She met Caesar’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen anything.”
“You bitch!” Caesar’s voice climbed higher. “You stupid bitch!”
She tossed Her blade to the floor. “Oh look, it appears I’ve dropped something. How careless of me.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m such a stupid bitch.”
Enzo scooped up the weapon and headed straight for Caesar, taking his fiery rage with him.
“No.” Caesar’s face paled. “No, no no no…”
Enzo stopped in front of his mark, waiting. Without a word, Tobias exposed Caesar’s throat before nodding at the Beast—an unspoken command.
“No!” Caesar howled. “Dog, stop! Get away! GET THE FUCK AWAY!”
Enzo dug the blade into his throat, turning his screams into gurgling. Blood rained down the Lord’s chest, while Leila and the others watched on.
19
The Kovahrian
Leila lay flat on Her back, staring up at Her chamber ceiling. A glimmer of sunlight peeked beneath Her curtains, slowly lifting the dark of night. Morning was approaching, though She wished it wouldn’t. Whatever it took to prolong this decision.
“So then, who are You sending home?”
Delphi’s feet wiggled near Leila’s shoulder. They lay parallel to one another in Leila’s bed, hands folded on their stomachs.
“Raphael knows I’m The Savior,” Leila said. “I promised to release him from the tournament in return for his silence. Now’s the perfect opportunity.”
“And then there’s Enzo. A Kovahrian spy aiding in Your assassination.”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
“We found a note penned in Kovahrian wartongue calling for Your death, while a northern soldier, personal guard to the Kovahrian Queen no less, is a competitor of Your father’s tournament.” The scorn in Delphi’s words stung. “Of course he’s a spy. Or worse.”
“So…you think I should release Enzo.”
“I know You should. And I think You do too.” Delphi flicked her wrist. “You can handle Raphael. Have him released the next time around. It’s not ideal, but one man’s a snitch, the other’s a spy. Which is worse?”
Leila sank into Her sheets. “And what about Tobias?”
Delphi shot upright. “You want to release Tobias?”
“I want him to live.”
“He is thriving. He is emerging a leader, does well in challenges—”
“He’s barely cheated death on more than one occasion. At what point does his luck run out?”
“It isn’t luck,” Delphi said. “You and I both know this.”
Leila wilted. “What happens when I’m unable to protect him?”
“He grows stronger with Your influence. Each day, he is more powerful than the last, and that’s because of You and Your light. He has proven himself a worthy ally, has killed one of Your father’s men, was willing to kill again the other night.”
“You’d have Me use him in a battle he knows nothing about?”
“I’d have You defeat Your father and find happiness.”
Leila looked away. It didn’t matter how much logic Delphi preached. Her insides still twisted, separating Her in two.
“I know You want Tobias safe,” Delphi said. “But he is capable. Isn’t there a part of You that longs for him to be Your Champion?”
“He hates it here,” Leila muttered.
“But he cherishes his time with You. Have You seen the look in his eyes when he says Your name? I know You have.”
“It’s a s
elfish choice.”
“Or is it?” Delphi said. “Because I do believe if he knew You were The Savior, he wouldn’t be so keen on leaving. I do believe he’d fight for You.”
The weight on Leila’s chest nearly lifted, until Tobias’s voice rang in Her ears.
She disgusts me.
Delphi flopped down onto the bed. “Well if You’re not going to send home Enzo, at least let it be Raphael. God, to throw away Your one move on Tobias—”
“I’m thinking,” Leila spat. “I’m the one with My life on the line, yet you dictate My actions as if you have anything to lose.”
The chamber fell silent, the sisters stiff at one another’s side.
“Brontes killed my mother.” Delphi’s voice was hard and level. “I have a stake in these plans just as You do. Or have You forgotten?”
“Apologies. I spoke carelessly.”
Delphi was quiet for a while before sighing. “So then, what’s Your choice? Is it Raphael, Enzo, or Tobias?”
“If Enzo is in fact a spy…he has to go.”
“I agree.”
Leila didn’t move, Her mind overwrought as She clung to the folds of Her dress.
“Is there something else?” Delphi said.
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
“I think that quite often but love You all the same.”
Leila bit Her lip. “He was wrecked by Zander’s death. I pity him.” Propping Herself upright, She met Delphi’s gaze. “Is that bad?”
“Your time with Tobias has made You soft.”
Leila scoffed, swatting Her sister.
“It’s a good thing.” Delphi cracked a smile. “It suits You.”
“It’s ridiculous. I know he could very well be abetting My end…but he was so broken…”
A knock sounded, and Hylas entered with a bow. “Your Holiness. It’s time.”
Leila’s eyes darted toward Her floor, now covered in light. Daybreak. As Hylas departed, Delphi hopped from the bed. “I’ll go fetch Cosima.”
“No. I want it to be Me this time.”