by Jenna Moreci
Drake’s thrashing stilled. Tobias gave another squeeze, then released, pointing his face to the sky as he steadied his breathing.
Silence, save for the rainfall. The red retreated, swirling back to where it came from, making a home in Tobias’s chest. Shocked faces waited in the wings: Flynn, Kaleo, many of the royals, the sisters at Leila’s side. The Kovahrian Queen said something Leila couldn’t distinguish, too consumed by Her havocked thoughts.
Another assassin was dead. The man who had nearly ended Her life.
Tobias had done this for Her.
As he rose from the body, Wembleton waddled through the garden, raising Tobias’s hand into the air. “The Artist…” His voice cracked. “The Artist stands as victor.”
“You didn’t bless him,” Delphi said. “You’re sure.”
Leila let out a shallow breath. “Yes.”
Tobias met Her gaze, and Her chest ached. He killed Your assassin. Brought You that much closer to defeating Your father. The words brought little comfort, as the look in Tobias’s eyes was hollow.
The tournament was destroying him, and there was nothing She could do but watch.
31
The Light
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests. In two days, this tournament will come to a close.”
Brontes’s voice carried through the atrium. The glittering candlelight cast a sheen across the fruits and meats, the only opposition to the shadow looming over the feast. Applause sounded, but it was stilted. This was not a joyous occasion.
“Tonight we celebrate the final three competitors.” Brontes stood at the end of the dining table, his lips a straight line. “The Shepherd, the Prince, and the Artist.”
Tobias sat beside Leila, a brittle shell. They were commemorating him on this night, the winner of the day’s challenge, the noble and valiant Dragon Slayer. Leila should’ve been pleased to have one less assassin, but Tobias’s black cloud was potent, leaving an ashy taste in Her mouth. Perhaps if She could see Her own colors, they would look just as despaired.
“As a token for your bravery, you will spend tomorrow with Her Holiness,” Brontes continued. “My daughter, and for one of you, your future bride. Shepherd, Prince, you will share the day with Her. Artist, as a reward for your victory, you will share the evening with Her. Do have a wonderful time.”
Leila fought back a wince. An evening with Cosima.
“Come the following day, the three of you will battle in the Culmination, and only one man will remain: The Savior’s Champion. May the best man win.”
As the staff raised their chalices, Brontes glared at Tobias. “And may all those unworthy drown in their own blood and piss.”
Enough. All of this was unfair—to Tobias, to Herself. She should speak to him. She should make things right.
Her stomach dropped. A hand had latched onto Tobias’s thigh, stroking close enough to his nethers to force bile into Her throat. Cosima dug into his flesh as if he were her property, and though Leila waited for Tobias to move or flinch, he did nothing.
Something delicate shattered within Her. She rose from Her seat and left the table.
Tears pricked Her eyes as She abandoned the atrium. Tobias had made his intentions clear. How could She have possibly thought to sway him?
Footsteps echoed behind Her. A gown adorned with a steel breastplate, two long braids hanging down to her waist. The Kovahrian Queen was following Her.
“Girl,” the Queen said.
Leila hastened Her stride. “Girl.” But She pressed on, Her shoulders tight.
“Your Holiness.”
The words sent Leila to a halt. Slowly, She turned as the Kovahrian Queen walked toward Her.
“Ah, yes. She responds to Her title.” The Queen flagged Leila over. “A word.”
Leila trudged her way, resenting her pull. Stopping in front of the Queen, She eyed her over, taking in the intricate armor on her chest, the furs lining her shoulders, the freckles splattering her crow’s feet and nose.
“You’re The Savior, yes?” The Queen spoke curtly, her accent rough and clipped. “The real one.”
“What brought you to this conclusion?”
“You are Your father’s daughter. Plus, that woman with the crown—she is no queen.”
“Or perhaps Enzo told you.”
The Queen went quiet, her brown eyes squinted. “What is Your name?”
“Leila.”
“Leila. Pretty. Why do You hide Yourself?”
Leila said nothing, and the Queen cocked her head. “You don’t trust me.”
“If I trusted anyone, I wouldn’t be hiding Myself in the first place.”
“You fear for Your life?”
“Among other things.”
“This palace is a dangerous place for You.” Her voice came out a shade softer, though her stare remained unreadable. “How unfortunate. The home of a queen, no home at all. You are smart then—taking measures. Whatever they are. You don’t have to tell me. But smart woman, yes. How does Your father feel about this?”
“I don’t particularly care how he feels.”
“You don’t like him. Neither do I. Unpleasant man, very rude. I don’t know if You are as him. So far, I enjoy You more.” She tapped Leila’s hand. “Don’t worry, Your Holiness. I keep Your secret.”
The tension didn’t dissipate. Leila tried to mirror the Queen’s stance, hoping She appeared formidable, that perhaps the woman feared Her. She should.
“You have a question for me?” the Queen said. “I see it in Your eyes.”
“You entered a spy into My father’s tournament. Why?”
“You take Your measures. I take mine.”
“That’s an awfully vague response.”
“Your Holiness, we do not trust each other. You have made that clear.”
Leila fought back a scowl, though the Queen seemed unfazed.
“I have a question.” The Queen clasped her hands together. “Tobias. Why do You break his heart?”
“Excuse Me?”
“I am Queen of warriors. I know rage of man who lost great love.” She shrugged. “He also stares at You very much.”
“They all believe Cosima is The Savior. Perhaps he was staring at her. Perhaps she’s the cause of his rage.”
The Queen laughed freely, squeezing Leila’s arm a little too hard. “You’re funny. I think I like You. But tell me why. Why do You break his heart?”
Leila dug Her nails into Her palms. “He broke Mine.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Much in this palace is complicated, it seems.”
Cosima’s hand on Tobias’s thigh—the vision tumbled through Leila’s thoughts, stirring the wave of emotion She had fought past moments ago. No. Not in front of this woman. She could not, would not appear weak.
“Go to Your Artist,” the Queen said. “Give him his love again. Save him from his rage. It will destroy him. I know. I have seen.”
“You sent spies into My home. Forgive Me if I’m skeptical of your advice.”
The Queen paused, her head once again cocked. “You have much rage too. I did not think I would like this tournament, but so far, it is very interesting.”
Without proper parting, she headed off, her cloak dragging behind her. How she managed to stay comfortable under so many layers, Leila hadn’t a clue. She watched the woman fade from view, then carried on.
Leila cursed under Her breath. The Queen was an issue. She should’ve requested, no, demanded information. Stop it. Degrading Herself would get Her nowhere. Erebus was dead—a triumph. Drake as well, another victory to Her name.
Cosima’s hand on Tobias’s thigh. Her chest pulled tight, a pain She couldn’t shake.
The door to Her chamber stood in the distance with Asher waiting beside it. His head perked up. “Turning in already? Isn’t the feast still underway?”
“I have no reason to stay,” She said.
“Poor company, I take it?”
> “The worst.” She grabbed the door handle. “Good night, Asher.”
“Leila.”
What? The word caught in Her throat, as She was suddenly trapped in Asher’s arms. His lips slammed into Hers, a rough kiss that tasted of yearning long repressed. His fingers dug into Her hips with a possessive grip, while his tongue invaded Her mouth, wet and prying. He pulled away breathless.
“I know You are to wed the Champion,” he said. “But I also know You have no intention of following through with this. The Artist has left Your favor, and I’ve been wanting to kiss You for some time now.” He took Her chin, bringing Her closer. “The Artist is a fool. You should reserve Your affection for a man who knows better.”
Leila stared at him, digesting each strange sensation—his breath on Her face, his armor digging into Her ribs. She pressed Her hands to his breastplate. “Did you know, the moment I first saw you, I was taken aback by how handsome you are.”
He smiled. “Is that so?”
“I thought you very well might’ve been the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. And when you came to make My acquaintance, I swear, I felt as though My heart would burst free from My chest.”
As Asher leaned in for another kiss, She turned Her cheek. “Such a shame all those feelings vanished once you fucked My sister.”
Asher’s gaze became wide, confused, then aghast.
“Step aside, please,” Leila said.
A long silence passed, the man before Her—engulfing Her—processing Her demand. He dropped his arms and backed away, smaller than he’d been before, as if obeying Her will had cut him off at the knees. She retreated into Her chamber.
Leila took a seat on the edge of Her bed, Asher’s intrusion still fresh on Her lips. She wiped Her mouth to be free of him, yet still She felt caged, the walls around Her sinking in. Cosima’s hand on Tobias’s thigh. Dammit, She didn’t need this. She closed Her eyes, imagining Her version of freedom, allowing the vision to take Her away.
An evening breeze dampened by rainfall swept the hair from Her neck, carrying the stale scent of dust and rubble. The watchtower. She opened Her eyes, ready to feast Her gaze on the rolling hills.
Her view was blocked by a narrow frame, a mane of black hair. A man stood ahead staring out at the realm, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath.
He stepped onto the watchtower sill.
“Hylas?”
The Senator stumbled, flailing as he regained his balance. “Dear God, You scared me. I mean, pardon my language, Leila. I mean—”
“Were you going to jump?”
Hylas hopped down from the sill. “No. I was…looking for something.” His eyes widened. “Oh God, is it blasphemous to lie to The Savior? Shit, my language!”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I… I just…” His lip wobbled, and tears tracked down his freckled face.
“Oh no, please don’t cry.”
She took his trembling hands, grateful that She, for once, wasn’t the one crumbling. The Senator felt delicate in Her hold like weathered parchment, and She kept Her touch gentle, guiding him to the stone bench where he sat and wept.
“I came to the palace with such hopes and dreams,” he said. “My father always said to serve The Savior was the utmost honor, and when the opportunity came, I seized it most enthusiastically. But this? This is not what I’d anticipated.”
“This fortress is a prison. I understand.”
“No, You don’t understand. The Sovereign, he wants me to…to… I can’t even say the words—”
“He wants to kill Me.”
Hylas started. “You know?”
“Why do you think I hate him so much?”
“That does make sense…”
Sniffling, he wiped his face dry, while Leila eyed the empty sill. “So…that’s why you were going to jump? Because of the assassination?”
“You are the holy gift of Thessen. I cannot… I will not—”
“Shh, it’s all right. Breathe.”
His chest heaved. “I don’t care about the coin, or the power. I won’t be complicit in his schemes. They are heinous, and unthinkable, and…and ungodly. But I can’t leave the fortress. I’ve tried, but there’s no escape. And if I defy Brontes, he’ll torture me, then kill me. So either way, no matter what I do, I die. At least this way, it’s on my terms.”
A twinge pulled in Leila’s stomach. “Do you want to die?”
“No.” His shoulders drooped. “I had plans, Your Holiness—”
“Leila’s fine.”
“My mother came here seeking asylum during the Ethyuan civil wars. She had nothing, yet was welcomed warmly. Made a home and a family. I wanted to do great things for the realm. I just assumed everything would be much simpler. Seems silly now.”
“It’s a beautiful dream.”
They sat in silence, their eyes on the night sky. Quiet tears ran down Hylas’s cheeks.
“What will You do?” he whispered.
Leila slumped against the wall behind Her. “I’m trying to stop Brontes. Unlike you, I can’t throw myself from a tower. If I die—”
“The realm dies.” Hylas shook his head. “The Sovereign’s plan will destroy Thessen. It’s stupid… It’s so, so stupid…”
“Yes, well, he’s not that stupid. I’m not sure I can win this.”
“You can. You will.” He turned toward Her. “Leila, You are The Savior, Her Holiness, God’s sacred gift to—”
“I know My title, Hylas.”
“If anyone can defeat him, it’s You. I have the utmost faith.”
“You’re a loyalist. You have to have faith.”
“I’ve seen you in the Senate meetings,” he said. “You’re a beast! And I mean that as a compliment. Your fire is inextinguishable.”
She stared at Her lap, fiddling with the folds of Her dress. “Thank you. But it’s felt quite extinguished as of late.”
“I can only imagine Your sorrow. Betrayed by Your father. Makes my troubles sound pathetic.”
“We all have burdens. It seems ours are intertwined.”
Sadness swaddled them both. Straightening his tunic, Hylas stood. “I know my place. I am not a brave man. But I can’t spend my life abetting treachery. So I will see my end as a coward—”
“You’re no coward.” Leila leapt to Her feet. “It takes the bravest of men to challenge My father. I know very few who’ve had the stomach for it.”
“The Artist?”
His words stabbed through Her. She took his hands. “Help Me. I need friends within these walls. I need you.”
Resolve washed across his face. “What do You need me to do?”
“Remain in Brontes’s Senate. Go along with his plans. Whenever you hear anything of note, tell Me. We can meet here, in the watch tower.”
“I can do that.”
“There’s a traitor within the palace.”
“Yes, I know,” Hylas said. “Diccus, Wembleton, and the Shepherd. Erebus was among them, but he’s missing—”
“No, no. Not them.” Leila wavered. “Well, yes them. But there’s someone else. A woman. Have you heard anything about her? About anyone at all?”
“No, not yet.”
“They exchange messages. Slip them beneath the pane of the grand staircase window. I need to know their meeting place. Can you help Me find it?”
“I will do my absolute best, for the glory of Thessen and service to our One True—”
“Leila’s fine.”
He offered a slight smile. “Apologies, I felt inspired.”
Leila met his smile with Her own. “I should go.” Her eyes traced the sill. “Promise Me you won’t—”
“I won’t,” Hylas said. “You can trust me. I won’t let You down.”
She’d heard those words before, and rarely had they been true. As She retreated to Her chamber, She prayed for this moment to be the exception.
“I love you.”
Leila rose with Tobias’s ful
l breath, Her cheek pressed to his chest. She dragged Her fingers down his naked form, losing Herself to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He rested a kiss on the top of Her head. “I love You too.”
“Never leave Me. Please, never—”
“I’ll never leave You.”
Leila propped Herself upright. They lay in Her bed, sunshine illuminating Her skin, but Tobias didn’t waver. He stared straight into Her gleaming gaze, unblinking and calm.
“You promise?” She whispered.
“I promise.”
“Do you mean it? Do you swear? Every man before you has wronged Me. I can’t take another heartache. I can’t.”
His eyes bore into Hers, but he didn’t speak.
“Tobias?”
Nothing. He was frozen, a statue. She took his face in Her hands. His cheeks were cold.
“Tobias, what’s—?”
He was gone, his imprint fresh in Her sheets. She turned to the rest of the room, and the walls changed to speckled cream, the moldings rich wood. This wasn’t Her chamber any longer. A large bed in teal throws heaved with passionate lovemaking, and a familiar voice moaned within the mound.
“Tobias?”
Leila didn’t want to move, but Her feet brought Her closer, stopping beside the bed. Tobias undulated like ocean waves, while Cosima lay beneath him, her legs around his waist, her head tipped back in ecstasy.
“Tobias…” Leila’s throat tightened. “Why?”
Cosima stared back at Her, grinning and lurching with each thrust.
“I’m The Savior.” She let out a derisive laugh. “I’m The Savior!”
Leila shot upright, gasping. Daylight flickered beneath Her velvet curtains. Still fighting for breath, She cradled Her head, trying to massage the images from Her mind, though they refused to release Her. Cursing, She jumped free from Her sheets, dressing before leaving Her chamber.
Leila let out an oof, colliding into a cushy bosom. Delphi grabbed Her shoulders, stabilizing Her. “Calm Yourself. I’ve never seen You in such a hurry.”
“Apologies.” Leila glanced sidelong at Asher, who watched them with a surly frown. She took Delphi’s arm. “Come.”