Chapter 28 Leila
Leila
Leila counted each of Tobias’s breaths, Her cheek rising and falling against his chest. Light trickled in through the slats of their window shutters as the sun began to rise.
She hadn’t slept much that night, in large part due to their carnal exploits, but even after their bodies slowed and Her legs ached, She didn’t find peace.
Each passing second was one step closer to Her greatest fear being realized.
Tobias was leaving Her soon, and She didn’t know if She’d ever see him again.
The door crept open, and Hylas’s hesitant face poked inside. Leila didn’t bother with discretion. She and Tobias lay together naked, their legs entwined, a sheet wrapping them at the waist. Hylas swallowed, his expression pained.
“It’s nearly time,” he whispered.
“A few more minutes,” Tobias said.
Leila didn’t move, didn’t speak as Hylas closed the door.
How long had Tobias been lying beneath Her, pretending to be asleep just as She had?
Perhaps he too was trying to stall their finality.
She nuzzled against his chest, taking in the slight prickle of hair between his pecs, his scars from the tournament, the hard planes of his muscles.
She’d be deprived of them soon. She needed to memorize them, to feel them against Her fingertips long after he was gone.
Tobias pressed his lips to Her forehead, then wove his fingers through Her hair. It was time. She could tell by the length of his kiss and the delicacy of his touch. He was savoring Her. She squeezed him tighter, determined not to let go, not yet. Just a moment longer.
“Darling.” His voice was tired and husky.
He didn’t need to say anything else. She met his gaze, holding it intently. Deep brown eyes looked back at Her, their darkness vast enough to drown in. He was the first to move, coming in close and kissing Her slowly, gently, lingering as if he was scared to part. As if this might be the last time.
She dressed with particular care, situating the straps of Her dress one at a time, then tying and retying the ribbon at Her waist until the bow at Her back sat perfectly.
Perhaps if She moved at a glacial pace, time itself would do the same.
Maybe they’d discover a new plan, one that kept Tobias safe at Her side.
Maybe the soldiers would leave Trogolia entirely, allowing Her and Her comrades to travel as they pleased.
But soon Her hair was brushed and sandals were laced, and no such change had occurred.
Tobias’s olive cloak was clasped at his neck, a satchel thrown over his shoulder and a sword sheathed at his hip. He was ready, but She wasn’t.
They convened in the second chamber, where Enzo, Raphael, and Hylas were waiting.
Enzo sat unbothered in his seat, too numb to bloodshed for his own good.
Raphael was guarded, his stony expression a convincing mask.
But stoicism wasn’t Hylas’s strong suit, and his expression was dismal, his bottom lip trembling.
Damn that man. Her resolve was already teetering on the edge, seconds from ruin.
“Should we begin?” Raphael said.
Leila looked to Tobias, hoping Her gaze spoke for Her. Change your mind. Perhaps he could hear Her thoughts, would heed Her plea.
He nodded, and Her stomach sank. This is really happening.
She slid Her hand up the front of his tunic, placing Her palm in the center of his chest. Give him the gift.
Her light answered Her call, blazing from Her flesh to his, uniting them one last time.
His eyes were heavy with sadness, as if he were apologizing wordlessly.
But this decision—his fate—was Her burden to carry.
This was Her father, Her war, and Her deepest regret.
She pulled Her hand free, the remnants of Her power burning Her fingertips. Tobias adjusted his tunic, his neck visibly tense and arms flexed. The silence in the room was stilted, and Leila’s lungs tightened, suffocating Her one second at a time. She’d known torture before, but not like this.
“Good luck.” Raphael stepped forward, giving Tobias’s hand a firm shake. “Stay strong.”
“Thank you for doing this for us,” Hylas choked out.
Enzo hopped up from his seat. “Hapa!” He slapped Tobias hard on the back, a proud grin plastered across his face. “My friend, a true warrior.”
Tobias chuckled, though the sound died soon after. His eyes drifted down to his wrist—and the red ribbon wrapping it.
Leila swallowed. They were thinking the same thing—She knew it even before he began untying the bow, but the unraveling ribbon broke something within Her regardless. He took Her wrist and delicately tied the promise beside the one She already wore.
“Keep this safe for me, yes?” he said.
A lump formed in Her throat, so She nodded in response.
The sight of his promise would only fuel Brontes’s rage.
They didn’t need to tempt him any further—to give him a reason to hurt Tobias more than he already would.
She resisted the urge to wince. She couldn’t think about that, not in front of him.
Tobias’s face dropped. “Please don’t cry.”
The softness of his voice wounded Her, another pain She couldn’t bear. Tears pricked at Her eyes, but She kept them at bay. “I have no reason to cry. I’ll be seeing you again. In mere days, really.” Digging Her nails into Her palms, She smiled. “It won’t be long at all.”
Tobias met Her smile with his own, though the sorrow in his gaze didn’t lift.
“Exactly.” He gazed at Her for a moment too long, taking Her hand in his and rubbing his thumb over Her knuckles.
He turned to the others. “Take care of one another.” He looked to Leila, releasing his hold of Her. “Secure Your army.”
Her fingers twitched, longing for his touch to return. “I will, thanks to you.”
“I love You.”
Leila set Her jaw. Those damn tears were testing Her, but She resisted their pull. “I love you, Tobias. So much.”
He smiled again, and it finally reached his eyes. She could’ve lost Herself in those deep brown irises, could linger in his gaze forever, knowing with absolute conviction that She was adored. That She was his.
And then he was gone, an inky blackness left in his wake.
Leila blinked. The shadowy swirls of Her magic were fading, leaving Her with an empty chamber. With nothing.
She sucked in a gasping breath. It seemed as though She hadn’t breathed in ages, as She was suddenly desperate for air, certain She’d suffocate right there in that inn. Every impulse within Her screamed, a fast-building frenzy.
“What have I done?” The words wobbled free from Her lips. She spun toward the others. “Why did none of you stop Me? How could . . . how could you just let this happen?”
They stared back at Her, Enzo with confusion, Hylas with defeat, and Raphael with a look of pity that shamed Her. Her hands shook at Her sides.
“I have to get him.” Her heart hammered against Her rib cage. “I have to—”
Raphael’s eyes widened. “Leila—”
“It’s not right. I have to get him.”
“Leila, no.”
Raphael grabbed Leila’s wrist, but She ripped Herself free. “Let go of Me,” She growled, but he persisted, wrapping Her in his arms. “Let go of Me!”
Her voice broke, and Raphael tightened his hold on Her.
She shoved at his chest, spewing nonsense even She couldn’t decipher.
No, She wasn’t speaking at all. She was sobbing, the tears She’d fought to repress unleashed.
Cries of the deepest despair ripped from Her throat, rendering Her more banshee than woman, a vision of uncontrolled grief.
She sank to the floor, and Raphael sank with Her, cradling Her in his arms as Her tears kept falling.
Composure was a stranger, and She didn’t know how long they sat there, Her allies bearing witness to Her weakness.
Only one fact rang true, reverberating through Her as She clung to Raphael, voice rasping and body quaking.
She would never forgive Herself for this.