by Jenna Moreci
“Healer girl? Are You all right?” Orion wrinkled his crooked nose. “Did I just call You Healer girl? Old habit, I suppose.”
Leila stared back at the woman in the mirror. She held a baby in her arms—a little boy of her likeness, save for the light brown of his eyes.
Leila met Orion’s gaze.
Light brown.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he said.
“She’s at peace. As is your son. They’re together. And they’re so, so happy.”
His demeanor shifted, somehow heavy and light in an instant. “Thank You.”
She waited for color to spill from his body, but the air around them remained stagnant, almost eerily so. Had She ever seen Orion’s colors before? Had he always been surrounded by such…nothingness?
“Right then.” Orion cleared his throat. “I suppose I should be off to see… Who is she, anyhow?”
“Just Cosima.”
“Then I’m off to see just Cosima.”
“Orion—”
“I know,” he said. “She’s The Savior, and You’re just Leila.”
Before he could begin his trek, he stopped short, looking back at Her. A smirk spread across his lips.
“What?” Leila said.
He pointed to his throat. “Love bite.”
Leila studied Her reflection in the mirror. Two deep purple bruises decorated the curve of Her neck, and She gasped, pulling Her hair over the marks while Orion headed off for his reward, chuckling.
Leila left in the opposite direction, shaking away the embarrassment. Orion was handled. For once, something had gone Her way. As She tore down the corridor, Wembleton waddled from a far-off room, stopping once he caught sight of Her. Fear spilled from his pores in a green mist, and She couldn’t help but smile to Herself. He should be afraid of Her. He disappeared down an adjacent path.
The plum walls of Her study surrounded Her, and She took a seat at Her desk, plucking a hand mirror from Her drawer and eyeing the spots on Her neck. The door flung open, and She shoved Her mirror aside, situating Her hair over Her shoulder as Delphi walked into the room.
“You weren’t in Your chamber this morning.” Delphi carried a bowl of fresh strawberries, speaking between nibbles.
“I was occupied,” Leila said.
“Meeting with Wembleton? He’s been scarce today as well.”
“It wasn’t anything like that. Trivial matters, really. How’s your day?”
Delphi came in closer, staring hard at Leila, her eyes shrinking into slits. She flipped Leila’s hair from Her shoulder, revealing the purple marks. “You little liar, You got fucked!”
“I did not!” Leila spat.
“You most certainly did, and You weren’t even going to tell me!”
“I didn’t get fucked.” Scowling, Leila pulled Her hair into place. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. There’s nothing to tell.”
“That doesn’t look like nothing.”
“You’re being silly. It was a brief visit. Completely inconsequential.”
“Cosima isn’t here.” Delphi took a seat across from Her, a sly smile on her face. “No one’s going to use this against You. And I know You want to share.”
A flurry swirled in Leila’s chest, and She struggled to contain a fast-forming grin. “Oh My God, it was incredible. We were kissing.”
“I gathered as much. In multiple places, even.”
“He was lying on top of Me. Writhing himself against Me. He was…” Glancing at the closed door, She lowered Her voice. “He was hard as a rock. The whole thing was so arousing, it was all I could do to keep My clothes on.”
“Then why did You?”
“What do you mean?”
“If You want to fuck him, fuck him. He clearly wants to fuck You too, if he’s writhing his cock against You.” Delphi bit a strawberry off at the stem. “You’re a grown woman. You can do what You please. Whom You please.”
Leila slumped in Her seat. “I can’t. He thinks I’m the Healer.”
“Still?”
“We’re in pursuit of a traitor. That’s our priority, need I remind you.” Her nightmare rippled through Her mind. “I’ll tell Tobias once the dust settles. It’s better like this. That way the job is done, and he can see all the good that comes of it.”
Delphi crossed her arms. “Mhm.”
“I can’t take things any further… Not until he knows who I am. It wouldn’t be right.”
“So tell him the truth.” Delphi popped another strawberry into her mouth, smiling with bulging cheeks. “Then fuck him.”
“I’m not going to tell him just so we can make love.”
“Consider it an added incentive. And make love? Really, Leila?”
“I was trying to be tactful.”
Delphi chuckled. “Once You finally scrounge up Your courage, You must tell me the intimate details. I want to hear all about how the Artist fucks.”
The door swung open, revealing four familiar servants. “How the Artist fucks?” Hemera bounded inside, the others following. “Did You fuck the Artist?”
Leila rolled Her eyes. “No, I did not fuck the Artist.”
“Are You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. How could I not be sure of who I have and haven’t fucked?”
Nyx frowned. “But Damaris said You summoned him last night.” Damaris elbowed her in the ribs, and Nyx flashed her a glare. “What? You did.”
“We had a lovely conversation,” Leila said. “I showed him one of our gardens, he told Me a delightful story about a man in his village by the name of Alex—”
“God, how dull,” Nyx groaned.
“Nothing happened?” Damaris said. “I thought for certain You would’ve—”
“Ridden his manhood with a fiery passion!” Hemera squealed.
Damaris’s cheeks reddened. “I’m just saying, You were so beautiful together at the Welcoming.”
“Did You at least tickle his berries?” Hemera said.
“Oh, leave Her alone.” Faun stood at Leila’s side, wrapping an arm around Her shoulders. “This is Her romance. Let Her move at Her own pace.”
Leila raised Her chin. “Thank you.”
“But seriously, when You do fuck him, we require specifics.” Faun crouched low, her gaze lit with intrigue. “We already know all about his gorgeous figure and top-notch cock, so You can get straight into performance.”
“Ladies, The Savior would like some privacy,” Delphi said. “You’re dismissed.”
“But—”
“Dismissed.”
Frowning, the four servants trudged from the study, shutting the door behind them. Leila remained stiff in Her chair, their words still buzzing in Her ears. “I don’t want them knowing the intricacies of My personal life.”
“Well, they’re gone now. And on a positive note, apparently Your Artist has a top-notch cock.” Delphi waggled her eyebrows. “Won’t that be fun?”
Leila bit Her lip, Her servants’ faces dancing through Her thoughts.
“You think one of them might be the traitor?” Delphi said.
“Yes.” Leila shook Herself. “No. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“They seem to adore you. Nyx and Hemera especially. They sing Your praises behind closed doors all the time.”
“Even Nyx? But she’s so testy.”
“She’s much more agreeable under the proper circumstance.”
Leila sighed. “I can’t be too careful. Until Wembleton finds the source, it’s too great a risk.”
“When do You think he’ll have news?”
“Soon. If he knows what’s good for him.”
The topic dissolved as the two sisters pored over lists of the palace staff, marking all potential traitors, crossing off those who didn’t fit. Chione was barely thirteen years of age—certainly not experienced enough for politics—and Elin had expressed contempt for the Sovereign between sweet nothings in Delphi’s bed. By the time they were finished, nearl
y a third of the names were struck. Leila would’ve felt pleased had Her four favorite servants not been among the many remaining.
“What now?” Leila muttered, staring at the names.
“Kill Your father?”
“Delphi—”
“There’s nothing to be done. Not now, at least.” Delphi lounged back in her seat. “We wait for Wembleton’s word. Find the traitor. And assuming they’re the last of Brontes’s network—”
“Then we kill My father.”
Together, the sisters smiled.
A soft knock sounded at the door, followed by a tentative face poking into the room. Damaris came inside with a tray of sweet rolls. “Thought you might prefer to eat in Your study.” She arranged their place settings. “I assumed You wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
Leila nodded. “That was very kind of you.”
Damaris bowed, then waited, her eyes cast downward.
“Is there anything else?” Leila said.
“My deepest apologies. I shouldn’t have told the other girls about your meeting with the Artist. I understand if You don’t trust me any longer.”
A stab of guilt pierced Leila—except maybe that’s what Damaris wanted. This sweet, unassuming servant. A traitor.
Apprehensively, Leila took the girl’s hand. Colors swam from her touch—soft blues and periwinkles, sadness and guilt wrapped in a blanket of embarrassment. Nothing about Damaris felt calculating or cruel.
“I know how you can make it up to Me. Summon the Artist. I’d like to see him.”
Damaris’s face flushed. “For another delightful conversation?”
“Of course,” Delphi said. “I’m here, after all. What else could possibly go on?”
With a bow, Damaris left the room, failing to mask her excitement. As the door closed behind her, Delphi flashed Leila a smug smirk.
“What?” Leila scoffed. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing left to be done today.”
Chuckling, Delphi stood. “I’ll leave You to Your riveting conversation.”
She headed to the door, staggering backward as it swung wide open. Cosima plowed into the study with a red-faced Pippa trailing behind her.
Delphi stumbled out of the way. “Good God, Cosima—”
“What are you doing here?” Leila said. “Is the reward over already?”
Cosima rushed to Her side, panting. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Brontes.”
“He’s so angry.” Pippa’s lip quivered, her cheeks wet with tears.
Leila stood from Her seat. “What’s going on?”
Cosima’s eyes were wide, her skin ashen. “Your father knows about the switch.”
A boulder dropped in the pit of Leila’s stomach.
“He’s going to hurt me.” Pippa’s breathing turned into gasps, her shoulders trembling. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t—”
“Shh.” Leila pulled her close. “Little duckling, everything will be all right.”
“What do we do?” Cosima said.
The door flew open, crashing against the wall. Red mist seeped through the room, and a beast of a man stood within its mass.
The study fell quiet. Cosima plastered on a strained smile, though her gaze was bleak. “Your Highness. What an unexpected surprise.”
Brontes was still for a long while before coming forward, his steps slow and heavy. Cosima headed for the door, closing it gently, while Pippa cowered behind Leila. Raising Her chin, Leila tried to appear stoic, yet everything within Her was withering away.
He knew.
“You have something to tell me,” Brontes said.
Delphi and Cosima took their place at Leila’s sides, a wall Her father could easily plow through. Leila swallowed, his red rage burning Her throat. “Is that so?”
“Say it. Say You’ve been lying to Your staff, Your people, and Your Sovereign for weeks.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Say it!”
Leila flinched. Seconds of nothingness crept by, and Brontes snatched up Cosima’s wrist. She yelped as he yanked her into his hold. “What did—?”
“We switched places,” Leila blurted. “Cosima’s been posing as The Savior. I’m her sister.”
Brontes froze, his eye on Leila while Cosima struggled in his grasp. “So it’s true.” He released Her sister, sending her tottering. “I knew it was. But I needed to hear it from You. I needed to hear it from Your filthy mouth.”
Pippa trembled against Leila’s back, or perhaps Leila was the one shaking, Her strength slipping away. “Who told you?”
“That’s what You have to say?”
“I don’t see why you’re so—”
“What the hell do You think You’re doing?” he barked.
“Your Highness, this outburst isn’t becoming for a man of your station,” Delphi said.
“Lower your voice,” Leila growled.
A vein bulged from Brontes’s forehead. “You dare to give me orders?”
“It’s best not to attract attention.” Cosima raised her hands as if to placate. “People will wonder—”
“I can’t believe this.” Brontes paced the floor. “The entire time?”
“There’s no need for hostility,” Cosima said. “No one meant any harm—”
“Save the excuses, I know exactly who’s at fault here.” He stopped suddenly, his glare set on Leila.
Her heart pounded against Her rib cage. “I made My feelings clear.”
“I won’t stand for this. You’ve made a mockery of this tournament. And what, You were down there? Healing them?”
How does he know this? “Seemed only fair considering how much you’ve tortured them.”
“Oh, don’t You play that game with me, You little shit,” he snapped. “This has nothing to do with those men. Nothing.”
A tremor rolled through Her. She took in a breath, cringing when it wavered.
“This ends now.” He came in closer, grinding his teeth. “That is an order.”
Leila steadied Herself. “No.”
“It ends now!”
“You can control the tournament, but you cannot control how we choose to participate—”
“Dammit, You selfish bitch—”
His hand flew high, and Leila winced, bracing Herself for the hurt.
“Excuse me!” a man shouted.
Her eyes shot open. Brontes’s hand had frozen in the air, and Tobias stood in the doorway, his shoulders squared.
“Apologies, I think I’m lost.” Tobias’s voice was firm and challenging. “Which way is the atrium again?”
Leila choked. She had summoned him. How much had he heard?
Another stiff smile spread across Cosima’s lips. “Just down the corridor and to the right, dove.”
Tobias nodded. “Thank You.”
Silence. Brontes dropped his hand, but otherwise no one moved, the two men staring at one another.
“You heard Her.” Brontes cocked his head at the doorway. “Atrium’s on the right.”
“Is something going on here?”
“None of your concern,” Brontes said. Tobias’s feet remained rooted, and Brontes’s voice turned into a growl. “Go, Artist.”
“I’d rather stay.”
“Leave.”
Tobias stared at Leila for a long while before turning to Cosima. “Your Holiness, are You all right? You look uncomfortable.”
Leila nearly whimpered in relief. He didn’t know—at least not everything.
“I’m fine, Artist,” Cosima said. “You’re so kind to ask. My father was actually just leaving.” She looked to Brontes. “Isn’t that right?”
The fire in Brontes’s expression turned to unbridled fury. He opened his mouth, ready to erupt—to destroy everything Leila had worked for.
A flicker of something crossed his gaze—something Leila didn’t trust—and his lips flattened. He thrust his finger at Cosima. “You and I will e
xchange words.”
Leila’s stomach dropped. “But—”
“But nothing.”
He stormed from the study, knocking into Tobias as he disappeared.
The red lingered, floating through the air before dissolving away. Brontes and his rage were gone. Just like that?
Why?
Cosima cleared her throat. “Well then, I should be off now.”
She hurried from the room, cooing some nonsense to Tobias before rushing off. Pippa was next to leave, darting away as if fearful for her life, while Delphi lingered at Leila’s side.
“We’ll figure this out. We always do.” She gestured toward Tobias, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Leila barely felt her pull away. Brontes knows. She held Her face in Her hands, fighting to steady Her breathing. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?
“Leila… Are you all right?”
Tobias was waiting at Her side, his gaze probing.
“How much of that did you hear?” She said.
“How much did I hear? Leila, the Sovereign was going to hit you.”
Her body ached for his comfort, but She kept still, kneading Her temples. “God… I have to go—”
“Wait. I’ve tried not to press the issue, but you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“Tobias—”
“What’s happening?” he maintained. “You’ve said you’re in danger. That the Sovereign’s mad, that you’re putting an end to his Senators. And now this? I have all these pieces, and none of them fit together. Help me put them together.”
His words pierced through Her, ripe with pain. She shook Her head. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
“You don’t understand. Everything has become infinitely worse, and I don’t have time for this.” Her thoughts turned feverish. “I have to… I have to fix this—”
His shoulders dropped. “Leila—”
“I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Leila, please—”
She hurried past him, charging down the corridor. Now wasn’t the time. She had to make this right. Her first task was simple: kill the sniveling shit who had betrayed Her. She knew exactly who that man was.