by Jenna Moreci
As they veered away, Delphi peered over her shoulder at the guard. “What climbed up his bum?”
“Asher kissed Me.”
Delphi chuckled. “Oh, really?”
“I haven’t a clue what provoked it. I’ve been nothing but mean to him.”
“Well, that explains it. Men love a bitch.”
“Are you calling Me a bitch?” Leila said.
“It’s not a bad thing. Bitches make history. How’d he take the rejection?”
“What makes you think I rejected him? I’m not tied to anyone. I’m free as a bird.”
Delphi rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re too much woman for that sack of meat. What would you two discuss? What fond memories do you share? Besides, You love Tobias. And judging by that gift he left, he’s clearly hopelessly in love with You.”
“What gift?”
Delphi cocked her head at a door in the distance—the entrance to the gallery. Reluctantly, Leila made Her way inside.
Servants huddled in a circle, chirping amongst one another by the empty wall. Tobias’s wall. A head popped up, then bowed as Leila approached, causing the others to do the same.
“Your Holiness. Apologies, it’s just…”
A parchment sheet, curled at the corners, was propped against the wall.
Tobias’s Lilies.
Leila’s breathing hitched. Dazzling color contrasted by fierce shadows, a mix of light and darkness. The piece was complete. Remarkable. And waiting in the gallery.
I promised to fill the wall.
“Hang it,” Leila said. “Frame it, and hang it.”
Her heart thundered as the servants worked. At some point Delphi pulled Her away, but not before She spied Her lilies hung for all to see.
“Do You want to see him?” Delphi linked their arms, leading Leila through the palace. “I imagine after the night he had he’s reeling in his own spew, but we could arrange a visit. I could speak with him.”
A gift from Tobias. A storm bellowed within Leila, inundating Her with feelings She wasn’t ready to face. What about the other night? There was too much to decipher, and Her overworked gut couldn’t handle it all.
The grand staircase loomed ahead of them, and standing at the top, staring out the courtyard window, was Brontes.
“Leila?” Delphi said.
He leaned against the sill gazing at nothing, a well-rehearsed lie. Seconds later, he turned down the corridor, his loose drape flapping at his side.
Leila bounded up the steps, running Her fingers along the windowpane, digging, searching—there. Parchment. Delphi appeared at Her side as Leila snatched up the note and read it over.
The time draws near. Await my package.
“Package?” Leila brought the slip closer to Her face. “What package?”
Delphi yanked the note from Leila’s grasp, stuffing it back beneath the pane. “To hell with the package. ‘The time draws near.’ That’s You, Leila. Your death.”
“But this can lead us to the traitor.”
“We need to get You hidden.” Delphi took Leila’s arm, hoisting Her down the hallway. “You’re not safe—”
“We need to get to work. Once we find the traitor, we reveal Brontes’s network. This is how we win. We act now, or never.”
Delphi gnawed the inside of her cheek. “Fine. We work.”
Leila’s gaze traveled the length of the staircase, Her mind swirling. There were so many loose ends, so much confusion to sort through. Focus. The Senators—Wembleton and Diccus. They were useless. The assassin—Kaleo. Too dangerous. She’d keep Her distance.
“Find Hylas.” Leila turned to Her sister. “Tell him of the note.”
“Hylas?” Delphi said. “Are You mad?”
“He’s on our side.”
“He’s a bloody Senator.”
“We spoke last night. He’s a loyalist. He’ll help us.”
“You’re certain?”
“No, but time is running out, and we haven’t many options.” Her thoughts built on top of one another, piecing themselves together. “Tell him to follow the Queen of Kovahr. Be discreet. Search for clues. You’ll wait here. Watch the window. I’ll follow Brontes. See if he leads Me to the package.”
“We’ll follow Brontes. I’m not leaving Your side.”
“Wait for the traitor. She has to retrieve the note eventually.” Leila took her hands. “Please. I need this to work.”
Delphi stared at Her, exasperated. Her features softened, and a hint of a smile, albeit forced, crept across her lips. “I hate You for this.”
Leila kissed Her sister’s cheek before darting away, scouring the corridors for that sickening red drape. A familiar sour face appeared ahead.
“Mousumi.”
The servant keeper looked up from her scroll and scowled. “Yes, Leila?”
“What’s the itinerary for the day?”
“There is none. For You, at least.” She flipped through various sheets. “You’re to begin Your monthly blood in a few days’ time, but other than that—”
“What of the tournament? Of My father?”
Mousumi raised a clean, black eyebrow. “Today is a day of reward. The Shepherd and Prince are spending their time with Your sister, Her Holiness, as we speak. The Artist is to spend the evening with her.”
A weight dropped in Leila’s stomach. “And My father?”
“Off the records.”
“Why?”
“You’re permitted Your days of rest. So is he.”
Mousumi bowed before marching off. Leila continued on, keeping a brisk pace.
There. The red drape. She picked up the folds of Her dress and followed.
A century training in the armory, an eternity in the Senate room with the visiting royals. Leila waited behind a pillar, willing the black door to open, or become translucent, or maybe set aflame with the royals inside. She tried to appear calm, snacking on a peach or five, and when Her stomach was full She sat on the floor, glaring at the door without discretion. Hylas joined Her, waiting for the Kovahrian Queen as he’d been assigned, but his endless fidgeting made the seconds drag.
“What about the other side?” he said. “We can watch through the window.”
“Rather conspicuous, don’t you think?”
He sighed. “Apologies. I’m new to this.”
The door taunted Leila, unmoving. Growling, She hopped up.
“Where are You going?”
She didn’t answer, charging through the palace, past the entryway, winding through halls until a tall, dark door stood before Her.
Brontes’s bedchamber.
Was it empty? It had to be, as Brontes was in the Senate room. But what if? Apprehensive, She took the handle and pushed.
Locked. Obviously.
She glanced over Her shoulder, checking for prying eyes and finding none. Brontes’s bedchamber. Power poured through Her, filling Her vision with white light.
A four-poster bed covered in burgundy throws with copper stitching. A stately wardrobe no doubt filled with tunics never worn. A gleaming mirror and rug the color of wheat. Brontes’s chamber was similar to Leila’s, albeit smaller and lacking in gold—facts that delighted Her. She had visited many times in the past but found it fruitless. Perhaps Brontes was smart enough to know better.
Maybe not anymore.
She dug through drawers, beneath the mattress, making sure to leave every inspected piece as She’d found it. Nothing—just drapes, sandals, documents of little importance, trinkets that appeared sexual in nature. She swung open his wardrobe—tunics, as She had expected—then flipped through the linen and silk.
A glass vial fell to the floor, rolling toward Her. Sapphire liquid.
Elixir of purgar.
She picked up the vial, inspecting it. Another example of science blended with the magic of Her ancestors. In Her palm was a substance as potent as Her touch. Her mother, and Her mother’s mother, and likely their mothers before them had all lent their blood to this concoctio
n. Leila had done so less-than-willingly a time or two. “The purest of all medicinal remedies.” Diccus had said that once.
Why did Brontes need this?
Leila pushed through the wardrobe, trying to find the purgar’s hiding place. A pair of harem pants jingled, and She fished through its pocket, pulling out a handful of vials.
The click of a lock sounded. Someone was coming. Leila threw Herself into the wardrobe, nestling behind the tunics and closing the doors shut. Footsteps shuffled into the space, and through the slim crevice between the wardrobe doors, Leila spied a hunched, grey figure.
Diccus.
He was heading toward Her.
Leila summoned Her light, and Her belly was suddenly pressed against cool tile. She lay beneath Brontes’s bed staring at Diccus’s ashy heels and leather sandals. Against Her better judgment, She poked Her head out.
The apothecary juggled several blue vials, dropping them into the very pocket She had searched.
But why?
Diccus pivoted toward Her, and Leila dissolved away.
She materialized at the end of the neighboring hallway, struggling to catch Her breath. A short time later, Diccus hobbled from Her father’s bedchamber, scooting off without paying Her any mind.
Elixir of purgar. It didn’t make sense.
Defeated, She glanced out the nearby window. The sun had set, a few final shimmers peering over the fortress wall.
The day was over, and nothing had come of it.
She trudged through room after room, kicking at the nothingness in front of Her. Perhaps She could continue following Her father, though the Senate room was empty, and She hadn’t a clue where he’d disappeared to. Servants whispered as they passed, prattling about the Culmination, where Tobias, Flynn, and Kaleo would battle to the death until only the Champion remained.
The tournament would end tomorrow.
She reached the royal parlor, stopping at the sound of laughter. The doors to the atrium stood ajar, and beyond them Cosima sat at the dining table, lost in a fit of giggles as She gave parting to Flynn and Kaleo, squeezing the latter’s arm.
Leila’s sister, petting and playing with Her assassin.
“I see I am not the only one with spies.”
The Kovahrian Queen took root beside the doorway, stony and aloof. Leila mirrored her stoicism. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Your friend. Tall. Skinny. Black hair. He tried his best.”
“I don’t know such a man.”
The Queen snorted, then gazed out at the atrium. “Who are we watching? Your warriors, or the bitch?”
She may be in league with Brontes, but She’s right about one thing.
“I would ask if it bothers You, seeing her with Your suitors. But Tobias is not among them, so I imagine You care little.” The Queen gestured toward Flynn. “That one—he is useless. A plaything, no value.” She turned her attention to Kaleo. “That one is a killer.”
“What do you want, Your Majesty?”
“I want what is best for my realm.”
“Our realms are supposed to be at peace.”
“Supposed to.” The Queen’s eyes shrank. “What an appropriate phrase.”
Tension prickled beneath Leila’s skin.
“Oh look.” The Queen’s voice came out cold. “Your father is here.”
She turned away without another word, leaving Leila to Her spying. Kaleo and Flynn had left, and Cosima and Brontes stood toward the back wall, his hand on the small of her back, intimate in a way he’d never been with Leila. He spoke in hushed tones as Cosima nodded along, and Leila’s blood ran hot, threatening to melt the skin from Her bones.
As Brontes left the atrium, Leila thrust the doors open, plowing inside.
Cosima jumped. “Leila! What a—”
“Why?” Leila charged forward. “Tell Me why?”
“I…” Cosima cleared her throat. “I don’t understand—”
“I can’t control My birthright. I can’t change My skin. My light. They are burdens I didn’t ask for. Why can’t you love Me anyway? Why must you covet what I have? You are beautiful, powerful, wealthy. Why is that not enough? Why must I be miserable for you to find happiness?”
Servants had stopped working, watching the two of them. Cosima glanced from side to side. “I don’t know what You’re—”
“Have I not been good to you? Have I not loved you as My sister?”
“Leila—”
“You said you didn’t care for him.” Leila clenched Her jaw. “You said he wasn’t your taste. Is he your taste now? Have you changed your mind?”
Cosima laughed. “Is this about the Artist?”
“You can have any man you want. He is the only one I want. Why? Tell Me why?”
“Dove, calm Yourself—”
“What did you discuss with Brontes?”
Cosima started. “Pardon?”
“What did you discuss with Brontes?” Leila gritted Her teeth. “Answer Me.”
“People are staring.”
“You spoke in private chambers. I want to know what he said. Tell Me now.”
Silence. Cosima stared back at Her, dumbfounded, then erupted into tears. “My dear sister, why must You treat me this way? All I long to do is serve the highest power.” She cradled her cheeks. “I’m so overwhelmed. Is it hot in here? I’m growing faint. Help me, someone, please!”
She stumbled backward, and two servants sprang forward, catching her.
“I love You, Sister. You know that, yes?” Her face was sopping, Her voice even and calm. “I’m just frail, is all. I need comfort and care.” She flicked Her wrist at the servants. “To my chamber, please.”
They ushered her off, leaving Leila where She stood, a seething cauldron ready to spill.
“One day those tears will be real,” Leila called out. “I promise you this.”
Cosima gazed back at Her for too long as the servants escorted her away.
The space fell silent, Cosima’s horrid laugh and ugly tears flooding Leila’s mind.
Her sister. A traitor.
Leila left the atrium, Her muscles tight. Night had fallen, another blow to Her already ruined pride. The day had come and gone, and She had nothing to show for it. Her bedchamber door stood ahead.
“Leila,” Asher began. “About yesterday—”
She threw Her door open and slammed it behind Her, sinking to the floor. It was over. She hadn’t found the package. She hadn’t revealed Brontes’s network. There were too many traitors to choose from, and Her sister was one of them.
“Leila?” Delphi’s voice was muffled by the door. She hadn’t knocked; perhaps Asher had warned her. “Leila, are You—?”
“I want to be alone.”
“Leila—”
“Please.”
Silence. Leila leaned Her head against the door. “Did the traitor ever come?”
“No. She didn’t.”
Another loss.
“Are You sure You don’t want company?” Delphi said. “I can braid Your hair. We can talk about frivolous things. You’ll forget they’re together in no time.”
Leila cringed. Tobias was on his reward with Cosima. It had slipped Her mind entirely.
“Just go.” She choked back tears. “I mean it, just… I’m fine. I want to be alone.”
Another stretch of quiet. “All right.”
Delphi walked off—at least Leila assumed so, as the air had become heavier. Scrounging up what remained of Her dignity, She peeled Herself from the floor, plodding through Her chamber as if heading to Her demise. She loosened Her dress, letting it drop to Her feet, then untied Her sandals, unclasped Her jewels. She stared at Her naked self in Her wardrobe mirrors.
Her mothers were there.
“I’m sorry for failing you.”
Their gazes were ripe with pity. It was pathetic.
She fished through Her wardrobe, pulling on one of Her robes. Black lace, a favorite. Cinching it at the waist, She walked
to Her desk and shuffled through Her drawers. The necklace. The Kovahrian note. Was there something else to be done? Another angle She hadn’t considered? She racked Her mind as time escaped Her, flipping through clues and tools as if Her death weren’t mere moments away. Qar’s rings. Erebus’s keys to Her empty vault.
Light glinted in Her periphery—the glass rose at the corner of Her desk, a gift from Cosima. So much had changed in thirty days.
Muffled shouting cut through the air, loud and heated.
“I need to see Leila.”
“No one’s permitted in this room.”
Someone was at Her door. Leila headed its way.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to remove you—”
“Goddammit, just let me pass!”
Leila threw the door open. “What’s going on…?” She froze. “Tobias?”
He stood before Her as if plucked from a dream, his cheeks red, his bare chest heaving. He exhaled. “Leila.”
As he plowed into Her chamber, Asher gathered his spear and attempted to follow. “He can’t just—”
“Oh, shut up.” Leila slammed the door, leaving him to his post.
Tobias waited in the center of Her chamber, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He turned to face Her.
Large eyes, dark and disarming. God, why did he have to look at Her like that?
“What are you doing here?” She said.
“I had to see you.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” He took a cautious step forward. “Because what happened the other day was wrong. Because I made a mistake.”
“I thought I was the mistake.”
The tiniest wince flickered across his face. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never said that. I don’t know what came over me. I should’ve never—”
“But you did. You said it.”
He swallowed. “I regretted it instantly.”
She couldn’t take his gaze any longer. She hurried through Her chamber, past Tobias altogether, and anchored Herself beside Her desk. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Cosima right now?”
“I left Her,” he said. “To see you.”
“You should go back.”
“I can’t, Leila. I can’t go back to Her chamber.”
Every muscle within Her went taut. “Her chamber?”