Chapter 34 Leila #2
Delphi hesitated before nodding, taking leave with the other servants. Soon, all who remained with Her were Raphael, Hylas, and the two Kaya women headed Her way. If it weren’t for propriety, Leila would’ve spewed Her stomach’s contents across the floor.
Naomi opened her mouth to speak, then stopped short, eyes panning past Leila entirely. “Hello, Raphael.”
The man went rigid, as if prepared for a blow. He frowned. “Don’t you mean the mouth?”
She winced the slightest bit, then cleared her throat. “It’s good to see you.” She offered him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
An awkward silence stretched between them as Raphael stared at her, visibly stunned. “Thank you,” he finally said.
“Where’s Tobias?” Yucana’s voice cut through the tension, a dagger to Leila’s insides. She craned her neck, peering past the group. “It’s been so long. He didn’t come to welcome us?”
Leila’s breakfast bubbled up Her throat, and She swallowed it down, fighting for composure that never came. “Tobias isn’t here right now,” She managed to say.
Yucana furrowed her brow. “I can see that. When will he return? I’d like to see my son.”
Leila’s breathing wavered. How was She supposed to deliver this blow?
She’d fought and killed men for years, yet this type of cruelty was foreign to Her, too foul to entertain.
These two women had done nothing to deserve such pain.
Leila searched for words but couldn’t find them, certain She’d shatter the moment She opened Her mouth.
“Our journey to Kovahr was trying,” Raphael stepped in. “Brontes made it nearly impossible to reach the northern shore.”
“I’m not sure how that’s relevant,” Yucana said.
“Is Tobias hurt?” Naomi asked.
Leila’s body betrayed Her; Her mouth refused to speak, Her lungs refused to breathe, and Her damn heart couldn’t stop racing.
Hylas glanced Her over, then cleared his throat before interjecting.
“The sovereign followed us to Trogolia. He closed all the borders. We were trapped for weeks. It was very grim indeed.”
Something shifted in Yucana’s gaze, the air around her dark, almost threatening. “Where is my son?”
Hylas stammered, “P-please, if you’d just allow us to explain—”
“We needed Brontes to remove his troops from Trogolia,” Raphael said. “It was the only way we’d reach Kovahr and seek their asylum. In order to achieve that, we had to divert his attention. Provide a distraction.”
Yucana’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
The pounding of Leila’s heart echoed behind Her ears, a drumbeat counting down each second of silence. This was Her duty, not Raphael’s, nor Hylas’s.
“Tobias is being held prisoner by Brontes,” She said. “He sacrificed himself to save us. To save Thessen.”
Yucana and Naomi stared back at Her, a steady stream of emotion flashing in their eyes—shock, sadness, anger.
Leila dug Her nails into the meat of Her palms, eager for the sharp sting to overtake Her focus.
Maybe Her hands would bleed. Maybe She’d die right there in that moment, freeing Herself from whatever was about to transpire.
Yucana hadn’t so much as blinked since Leila had last spoken. She took in a slow, even breath. “My son is dead.”
“He’s not.” Leila’s voice caught. “He’s under Brontes’s—”
“You killed him. You abandoned my child and left him to die.”
A blow landed in Leila’s chest, knocking the air clean from Her lungs. There they were—the words that would surely end Her. Perhaps She should’ve said something, but Her voice had been smothered by Her overwhelming shame.
“Leila was the last person who wanted this,” Hylas said. “The whole plan was Tobias’s idea—”
“I knew this day would come. That You’d ruin him.” Yucana’s eyes locked with Leila’s, a searing glare. “You are a curse to this land and a curse to my son. His blood is on Your hands.”
Raphael pressed a hand to Yucana’s shoulder. “Ms. Kaya, Tobias is very much alive.”
“For how long?” Yucana ripped herself free. “How long until Her father kills him like all the others?”
“When did this happen?” Naomi cried at her mother’s side. “Why didn’t You tell us?”
Tears streaked her cheeks, her anguish too much for Leila to bear. “We’re going to rescue him,” She choked out, Her voice meager. “As soon as we secure an army—”
“He loved You,” Yucana spat. “Sacrificed everything for You. And this is how You repay him.” Malice coated her words, and she pointed a sharp finger Leila’s way. “You truly are Your father’s daughter.”
“Please, Yucana,” Raphael said. “Leila is grieving just as you are.” But Yucana had already taken the handle of Naomi’s cart and was steering her toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere She is not,” Yucana hissed.
“Mother, we can’t.” Naomi looked back at the others, eyes wide and stricken with terror. “Where is he? When will we rescue him?” She looked to her mother. “Please, we need answers!”
“We’re done here. I can’t stand the sight of Her.”
“Yucana,” Leila called out.
The woman stopped short at the doorway, turning to Leila one last time. She was barricaded, visibly restrained in a way Leila knew well, but the glistening of her eyes revealed her pain.
“Don’t ever speak to me or my family again.”
Leila didn’t respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do but watch as the Kaya women left Her chamber. Everything within Her threatened to revolt—Her tears fighting their way to the surface, Her frenzied thoughts and shaking limbs. When did Kovahr become so unbearably hot?
A soft hand pressed against Leila’s back. “Are You all right?” Raphael asked.
Leila swallowed the thickness of Her throat, then cocked Her head toward the doorway. “Go with them. Make sure they’re . . .” A sob threatened to cut through Her voice, so She went silent. Raphael did as he was instructed while She remained rooted in place, eyes trained on the floor.
“She’s angry, Leila. That’s all.” Hylas hovered close, taking one of Her hands in his. “Nothing she said is true.”
Her fingers trembled, and She pulled away from him. “Please.” Her voice nearly broke. “I need to be alone.”
Icy blue plumed from his shoulders. Leila couldn’t handle his sadness, but even worse was his pity. He bowed. “I’ll be in my chamber if You need me.”
The door closed behind him, and it was only then that Leila sucked in a rasping breath.
Her frenzied insides were ignited, no longer suppressed by Her need for control, and Her knees nearly buckled as She took a seat on Her bed.
She clasped Her hands over Her mouth, catching the sob She’d been fighting against, Her body convulsing and rocking with Her falling tears.
She was lost, adrift in a realm She didn’t know, Her resources sucked dry and hope long buried.
Pain was a companion She knew well, but Her past struggles had failed to prepare Her for the endless grief of failure.
Leila wasn’t sure how long She hid in Her chamber, crying into Her pillow like a pathetic mess.
Her weakness was embarrassing, truly, but She couldn’t fight the onslaught of emotion.
At some point Her throat had gone hoarse from howling, Her nose raw and eyes swollen.
She’d run dry of tears for the time being, so She spent the remainder of Her day sitting by the window, watching the Queen’s Forest.
Three bodies had been pulled from the forest since She first took Her perch, and given the attention they’d received, She was inclined to believe they were challengers. That meant only two challengers remained—the woman who had volunteered and Enzo.
A fourth body was carried from the forest, and Leila gasped.
The corpse was headless. She pressed Her hands to the cold glass, searching the far-off body only to fog up the window with Her breath.
She dragged Her sleeve across the moisture frantically, then heaved a sigh of relief.
The body had breasts. That meant Enzo was maybe, possibly still alive.
The sky had begun to darken. It seemed the sun set earlier in Kovahr than in Thessen, but that didn’t calm Leila’s anxieties.
How long has it been? How many prisoners remain?
Come nightfall, She wouldn’t be able to see if Enzo survived or perished.
Before Her thoughts could fully spiral, the trees rustled, and a man sprang free from them, collapsing to his knees in the snow.
Enzo.
Leila jumped from Her seat and flew from Her chamber, racing through each corridor before bounding down the citadel stairwell.
Just as She reached the gate, it opened, and Enzo hobbled inside, a makeshift sack made of torn fabric in one hand, his other hand pressed to his gut.
Blood trailed his footsteps, but he continued ahead, stoicism etched across his face.
Leila hurried his way. “Enzo!”
He didn’t respond, passing Her entirely and turning down a familiar hallway.
Slashes marked his arms and tore through his tunic, but whatever afflicted his stomach seemed to be the worst of it.
Leila followed him into the throne room where Prisca sat amid her steel bones, relaxed in ways that vexed Leila.
According to Magnus, she was to sit there until the trial’s end, waiting for the final challenger, if any, to return.
Grunting, Enzo tossed his sack to the floor, and severed fingers scattered across the tile.
“My queen,” he said in his language, taking to one knee. “My trial has ended.”
Prisca eyed Enzo for a long while before turning her attention to the severed fingers. There were ten of them, either carved off by Enzo or the other deceased challengers. Ten fingers for ten prisoners. Prisca bowed her head.
“You have fought well and are worthy of honor,” she said.
“Then I ask, humbly, for your forgiveness and blessing to return to my station.”
Leila held Her breath. Enzo’s voice was even and unfeeling, as if he weren’t steadily bleeding onto the bearskin runner. Prisca studied him for a long while before finally speaking.
“You have my blessing.” She cocked her head toward the doorway. “Tend to your wounds.”
Leila stood frozen, stunned by the display.
She wasn’t sure what She had expected, but it wasn’t that.
Prisca had been so disagreeable during their encounters, stubborn to her own detriment.
But there She sat poised and at ease, acquiescing plainly.
Enzo hobbled past Leila, ending Her spell, and She hurried after him.
“Enzo, you must allow Me to heal you.” She grabbed hold of his biceps, stopping him. “Please.”
He looked down at Her hand before looking Her in the eyes, the brief contact enough to thaw a fraction of Her heart.
The severity of his pain pulsed past his flesh, stirring Her light, but what hurt most was the ache in his gaze, no longer hidden behind a wall of bravado.
He nodded, and together they followed a line of guards to the infirmary.
The citadel healers made quick work of cleaning and bandaging Enzo’s lesions, but Leila focused Her light on the crater in his stomach.
The wound was deep and seeping, and when She touched it, Her own gut throbbed as if impaled.
He sat still, waiting silently as Her light worked, and all the while Her thoughts tossed and turned.
Enzo was alive. Tobias was imprisoned. His mother and sister hated Her.
She had no army. She tried to shake the endless prattle from Her mind, but the voices ate away at Her, threatening to steal Her sanity.
“You must be happy.” Leila ended the long silence, hands firmly planted to Enzo’s marred flesh. “Your queen has forgiven you.” The reality of Her statement struck Her abruptly. “I imagine when all this is over, you’ll choose to stay here in Kovahr.”
Leila’s stomach hollowed. Of course he would. She’d known that for weeks. But the thought of him eventually leaving Her side pained Her in a way She hadn’t anticipated. Was there to be any permanence in Her life?
“You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice sharpened. “Risking your life for Prisca’s favor. It’s silly. There was no guarantee she’d honor your request.”
“My queen has much honor,” Enzo said. “All who accept the trial earn her respect. Even those who do not survive.”
The dead bodies pulled from the forest flashed through Leila’s mind, namely the woman cut clear at the throat. She forced back a shudder. “And it would’ve been worth it for you? To die for her respect?”
Enzo’s slate eyes panned to Leila, his answer clear before he even spoke. “She had to hear me. It was the only way.”
Leila sat up straight. His words stilled Leila’s frantic mind and released the firm grip on Her lungs. Everything had become so clear, so simple. In an instant, a fire ignited in Her chest, burning past Her fear and despair.
She knew what She had to do.
“You’ll have to excuse Me.” She stood, turning to the nearby healers and gesturing toward his no longer seeping wound. “He’ll need stitches,” She said in Kovahrian.
She didn’t wait for a response before tearing from the infirmary. Enzo’s blood still coated Her hands, but She relished the familiar sensation, welcoming carnage into Her reality. Finally, She had an answer. Her heartbeat thrummed, a steady rhythm that fueled Her, reawakening Her resolve.
Leila burst into the throne room, startling the scant guards at its entrance. Prisca had risen from her throne, lost in conversation with some of her soldiers, and she started upon Leila’s arrival.
“Leila.” A hint of a smirk graced her lips. “I was not expecting—”
“When is it?” Leila stopped at the dais, bloodied fists balled at Her sides. “When’s the next trial?”
One of Prisca’s guards stepped forward, his sword drawn, but she halted him with a raised hand. “It is a tradition. Every fortnight—”
“You’ll hold it sooner,” Leila said. “As early as possible. A special exception in honor of your Thessian guests.”
Prisca let out an appreciative laugh. “I will, will I?”
“When’s the earliest you can manage it?”
“Three days. Maybe two.”
Fuck. That was too long. Leila nodded. “Make it so.”
“I am to take orders from You now?” Prisca raised an eyebrow. “In my throne room?”
“This trial will be known far past the confines of Kovahr,” Leila said.
“Your power and influence will be spoken of for centuries, your legacy everlasting in the history of our ally realms.” Power quaked within Her, a keen determination burning straight to Her core.
“This trial will mark you as the Queen of queens.”
Prisca folded her arms. “And why is that?”
The fire within turned into a raging blaze, threatening to consume Her whole. No doubt this was the single most ludicrous idea She’d ever concocted, but it was Her last chance, Her final hope.
The only way. She would make the queen hear Her.
“Because I am accepting the challenge.”