by Jenna Moreci
“She’s coming for the tournament. All the neighboring royals are.”
The hum of distant cheering carried through the air. Far beyond the fortress, a celebration was underway—the Reverence, a ceremony glorifying the tournament bloodshed. Thousands of citizens lined up to watch the competitors march, and roar, or do whatever it was they were doing. But the spike in the noise told Her a specific man had been introduced—the people’s favorite.
Delphi leaned over Leila’s shoulder, cooing into Her ear. “Look how majestic he is.”
Tobias. Excitement rolled through Her. “He’s hardly visible.”
The cheering peaked higher, inarguably female, and Delphi sighed. “Can You imagine all the tits he must be seeing? Lucky bastard.”
“Tits?” Leila said. “Why?”
“Have You no understanding of the Reverence? Tobias is favored.”
“What does that have to do with tits? You’re telling Me those women are just standing out in the open in the nude? Of all the vulgar things…”
Delphi chuckled. “I hate to inform You, but I’d wager nearly every woman and man in Thessen now lusts for Your precious love.” She gave Leila a pinch. “Don’t You fret. I’m sure the only tits he longs to see are Yours, insane as that may be.”
Leila kept Her eyes on the spectacle, though She wasn’t sure what for, as it was little more than a mass of specks. Suddenly the sea of bodies parted as a pinprick of a man barged into the crowd. It could be any one of them. But that didn’t stop Her from gripping the sill as guards tore after him, and Her throat caught as a laurel was chanted.
“Artist. Artist.”
She held Her breath, and the guards fell back as Tobias returned toward the Reverence grounds, the people cheering in triumph.
Leila exhaled. “Thank God.”
“Thank God?” Delphi wrinkled her nose. “For what?”
Leila’s shoulders curled as She shied away from Delphi’s gaze.
“You thought he was escaping.”
“I didn’t want him to get hurt, is all,” Leila said.
Delphi rested a hand on Her shoulder. “I want him to stay as well. It’s all right to admit the depth of Your feelings.”
A flush crept up Leila’s face, but Her tension eased beneath Her sister’s touch.
“This is exactly why You should tell him, You know,” Delphi said.
“Tell him what?”
“That You’re The Savior.”
Leila spun toward her. “What?”
“Why are You surprised? Were You going to allow him to be blind forever?”
“No, it’s just…” Faltering, Leila fiddled with the lining of Her gown. “I’ve honestly never thought about it.”
“Not once?”
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied, Delphi.”
“Well, it’s clear your connection runs beneath the surface. And if You care to include him in Your future, he’ll have to know who You really are.”
“Yes, of course.” Leila nodded, though Her stomach swirled.
Delphi raised an eyebrow. “But…?”
“But nothing. I’ll tell him tonight. Look at you, making a fuss for no reason.”
Clearing Her throat, She hopped from the sill and hurried down the stairwell, abandoning Her sister before she could figure Her out. The day was young, and with no news from Romulus, Talos, or any other source, She was left to Her own devices—staring at Her necklaces while pondering Kastor’s intentions, researching the upcoming tournament challenges, and dwelling over Her new, unexpected task.
You should tell him.
Day turned into night, and eventually the nerves in Leila’s gut were coupled with glee. The tournament didn’t resume until tomorrow, which meant She had the entire evening at Her disposal—an evening She could spend with Tobias.
She found him wandering the palace halls snacking on a peach while eyeing the marble busts. She hadn’t yet grown accustomed to his new appearance—clean and clothed, his hard form dressed in simple black harem pants and a matching shirt, sleeveless with a cowl hood much like what the guards wore off duty. As his eyes traced the walls, She walked his way, passing him with a whisper.
“Follow Me.”
Footsteps sounded behind Her. She couldn’t suppress Her grin, nor the hammering of Her heartbeat, as She wove through the palace, floating high within Tobias’s gaze. Bounding up the grand staircase, She stole a glance over Her shoulder. He still followed, and the yearning in his eyes sent Her soaring. The doorway to the watchtower appeared, and She darted up the steps before reaching the top.
The blistering sun had long since set, replaced with blackness and glittering stars. Leila settled in Her usual spot, combing Her fingers through Her hair until it hung just right over Her shoulder, fussing with Her dress so it lay neatly against the sill. Anxious seconds passed before Tobias joined Her, his eyes locking with Hers.
“Should you really be sitting there on the edge like that?” he said.
Leila scoffed. “Oh, please.”
“I’m serious. Seems dangerous…”
Rolling Her eyes, She flailed, feigning a fall. “Oh no, Tobias, rescue me!”
“Stop it!” Tobias raced toward Her. “You make me nervous.”
Chuckling, She resituated Herself, acutely aware of Tobias’s gaze tracing Her figure. His hand dipped into his pocket, pulling out a rose. “For you.”
Leila cradled the gift in Her hands, smiling—until Cosima intruded into Her thoughts.
“What?” Tobias said. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s lovely.”
“Say it.”
She hesitated. “Usually the palace is filled with lilies. But now it’s filled with roses… I just really loved the lilies.”
“Is that so? Well then, let’s get rid of this.” Tobias snatched the rose and flung it over the tower’s edge.
“Tobias!”
“What?”
“You threw away my gift!”
He shrugged. “It was a terrible gift.”
“It was not!”
“I’ll get you lilies.”
“You can’t.” She wilted. “They’re all gone.”
“I’ll find a way.” Tobias eyed the dusty walls, taking in their surroundings. “What is this place?”
“The old watchtower.” She said. “For times of battle. Of course there hasn’t been a war in centuries. We have no use for it now. I just come here when I want to be alone.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“I want to be alone with you.”
Tobias’s smile spread through Her, too potent to look at. Instead She stared at the realm, studying the curves of the hillsides, the cottages painted blue by the night sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is all I’ve ever seen of the realm. Makes me feel free, being up here. It’s as if I’ve left the fortress for a moment. Almost.”
Fingertips slid down Her spine, and She relaxed into Tobias’s touch.
“You see that hill, right over there?” He pointed at a cluster of cottages far in the distance. “That’s my village.”
Leila leaned forward, peering through the darkness. “Is it really?”
“I live at the very top. I’ll bet you can see my cottage from here. At night, Milo and I would sit by the edge and stare down into the fortress. Have a drink. Admire the palace from afar. On Savior’s Day, he spent the entire time trying to convince me to enter the tournament.”
“Savior’s Day?”
“The Savior’s birthday,” Tobias said. “What do you call it?”
“Just…” My birthday. “Her birthday.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
She cleared Her throat. “Well, on Savior’s Day, I was up here staring out at the realm. Dreading the tournament to come.”
Leila’s gaze drifted back to the green fields and thatched roofs—to the realm She’d never once stepped foot in—but with Tobias standing at Her side, the longing She usually felt had dulled, re
placed with comfort and ease.
“How often did you do that?” She threaded an arm around his waist, nestling against his chest. “Look down at the palace.”
“All the time.”
“How funny. To think we’ve been staring at one another for so many years and never knew it.”
Fine slips of pink spread from his flesh, disappearing into the night. She smiled, though Her joy was fleeting. A stretch of forest lingered in Her peripheral vision, souring Her mood.
“Down there.” She cocked Her head at the mass of trees. “Do you see those darkened woods? That’s the site of tomorrow’s challenge.”
“Do you know what’s in store?”
“Just that it’s dangerous,” She said. “Not that I would’ve expected anything less from Brontes.”
Tobias’s face dropped. “Oh God, I nearly forgot…”
“What?”
“The Sovereign. He spoke with me at the Welcoming.”
Leila’s nerves spiked. “What did he say?”
“He told me to stay away from his daughter. That I wasn’t what She needed. And when I tried to defuse the situation, he mentioned you.” Tobias’s eyes widened. “I think he knows.”
She emptied Her lungs. Of course Brontes knew. He had known for ages.
“Tobias…”
“He knows about us,” he said. “He knows I don’t care for Cosima—”
“Brontes has more important concerns. I assure you, your cares and passions are the furthest thing from his mind.”
“That’s all well and good, but what about you?”
“I’ve been handling Brontes since I was a child,” She maintained. “I can certainly handle him now.”
“Leila—”
“Listen to me.” She took his hands. “Rid yourself of these worries. Just please…stay away from him.”
Tobias stared at Her, silent for a long while before releasing a breath. “God, that family is mad. The Sovereign and The fucking Savior. I swear I loathe them more and more each day.”
Pain shot through Her like an arrow to Her confidence. You brought him here to tell him. Except it wasn’t that simple, not when his words were dripping with scorn, the air around him flickering with red. He’s speaking of Cosima. But his anger was for the tournament, and those men hadn’t died for Her sister.
They had died for Leila.
“Apologies if I’ve burdened you.” Tobias leaned in closer, making his way into Her line of sight. “It’s just…it made me nervous when he said your name.”
“Why?”
“Why? What do you mean why? Leila, you are precious to me. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
A fraction of Her discomfort melted. She forced a smile. “You know, I watched you. During the Reverence.”
“Is that right? From up here on your little perch?”
“Mhm.”
“Well then, did you enjoy it? Us big, strong men, pounding our chests like gorillas, smearing blood on our bodies like loons.”
Leila chuckled. “Oh yes, it was all very arousing.”
“It’s a shame you were so far away,” he said. “You had to be right there to appreciate the manliness. You missed it all, really.”
“Well, go on then. Why don’t you show me that mighty roar?”
“No!”
“Fine, what about that pounding thing.”
Tobias hesitated, then pounded his chest only to explode into laughter.
Leila gasped. “Oh my, Tobias, that was so mighty! You have me absolutely trembling. Is this the part where I show you my tits?”
“I mean, if you insist, I won’t stop you.”
Leila swatted his arm, giggling childishly.
“I don’t think I’m a pound-my-chest sort of man,” he said.
“No, I don’t think so either. But I like the sort of man you are just fine.”
His laughter subsided, though his grin remained intact, a little too perfect to bear. She looked away. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming back,” She said.
“What do you mean?”
“When you went out into the crowd, I thought for a moment you might be…trying to escape.”
“Escape?” Tobias scoffed. “You think I’d leave you here?”
His gentle smile burned through Her, a wonderful ache. A bandage wrapped his palm—a byproduct of the Reverence—and She scowled. “Let me look at your hand.” She plucked it up, unraveling the dressing. “So stupid. What was the point of this? Such mindless cruelty for the sake of entertainment. Poor thing. I’ll fix it.”
“But you don’t have your potions.”
“I can still make it better.”
She set the bandage aside, revealing a thick scab straight through his flesh. Wembleton had spoken of this ritual as if it were glorious—“The men carve a line into their palms, spilling their blood on the sands of the realm they give their life for”—but all Leila saw was needless pain. She dropped a soft kiss in his palm. “Better?”
“Not quite,” Tobias said. “Once more for good measure.”
She gave his palm another kiss. “How about now?”
“Ah, yes. That made all the difference. I’m cured.”
Pink and yellow encircled him, and She glided Her fingertips up his forearm, tracing letters through his colors.
Goodness.
“You know what else hurts?” Tobias said.
Leila’s gaze darted to his. “I swear to God, if you point to your cock…”
“My lips! I was trying to be romantic, you know. You’ve ruined it.”
She grabbed the cowl of his shirt and kissed him hard, laughing against his mouth. “Don’t be harsh with me, I’m a respectable lady.”
“And a difficult one too. You’re making it hard for me to court you properly.”
She faltered. “You’re courting me?”
“Yes, Leila. How was that not clear?”
“Well, you never said so.”
“It doesn’t exactly work like that. You don’t say, ‘I’m courting you.’ You hold her close, you kiss her, you tell her how fond you are of her. Or in my case, you draw her pictures, then hide them away. You recite poems that land you on a reward with another woman. You give her a rose and then toss it off the side of a tower.”
Her cheeks ached from laughing, and She pressed Her lips to his. “Don’t stop.”
“Kissing you?”
“Courting me,” She said. “I’ll never tire of it.”
Streams of yellow, pink, and orange cascaded through the night air, a sunset of affection and joy—of everything She roused within the man before Her. You should tell him. And She would.
Another day.
“They were here again?”
Talos nodded. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
Leila sank into Her seat. The dungeon was dim and dreary, the morning heat turning the air rank. She took in a deep breath, the scent of tart herbs stinging Her nostrils. “When?”
“The day Your suitors were welcomed into the palace. And nearly each day since.”
“And no mention of—?”
“The assassins have not once mentioned a healer,” Talos said.
“Or a redheaded Savior?”
“No, Your Holiness.”
Leila’s shoulders loosened. “Any mention of Kovahr?”
Talos shook his head. “They mostly discuss the challenges. Brontes gives them special means.”
“Cheating bastard.” Huffing, Leila crossed Her arms. “I suppose we know who will be winning today’s challenge.”
“Your father didn’t instruct them to excel today. He had other expectations for them.”
“What kind of expectations?”
Talos didn’t answer, his eyes drifting away. “The competitors are in the palace, Your Holiness. Your identity won’t remain secret for much longer.”
“All the drapes are closed. I haven’t glowed in days.”
“Your staff know You are T
he One True Savior.”
“I keep to Myself,” Leila said. “Spend My time in My chambers while the men are about. I’m down here with you right now. No one will find Me here.”
Talos met Her stare with a knowing gaze, and She sighed. “I know. But what choice do I have? Tell Me, is there any other way?”
Silence. A suggestion would’ve been nice, but at least Her point was proven.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, Your Holiness,” he said.
“What would you do if you cared for someone a great deal, but they didn’t know something very important about you? Would you tell them?”
Talos shifted, his discomfort not so easily hidden. “I suppose I would.”
“What if they might not like it? And if you do tell them, and they don’t like it, the consequences could be very dire.”
His eyes narrowed in thought. “My father used to say the bond of brotherhood can be shattered by a single act of dishonesty. I imagine the same can be said for relationships of all kinds. But Your safety is imperative above all else, for the good of Your realm. You must do what is right for You.”
“That’s entirely unhelpful.”
Her thoughts swarmed within Her skull. She had lost sleep the night before stewing over Tobias’s abhorrence for The Savior. She certainly couldn’t fault him for mourning the loss of his comrades, but that was hardly the end of Her worries. If Tobias didn’t accept Her title, what would he do? Would he tell Her father of Her ruse? Would he expose Her? No, he wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of man. But deception was all She knew of men. Was Tobias an outlier, or was She fooling Herself?
Talos’s low voice filled the space. “The body You brought last time… It appeared as though there was a struggle.”
“I handled Myself just fine. He was dead, wasn’t he?”
“These men are very dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why I’m taking care of them.”
His critical gaze pierced through Her. “I’ll be careful,” She said. “I promise.” Her nerves stirred. “You didn’t have trouble with the…disposal…did you?”
“No, Your Holiness.”
He never told Her what he did with the bodies—hadn’t wanted to burden Her, She assumed. Perhaps he buried them, fed them to the pigs, or burned them. The speculation was little more than a distraction from more potent concerns.