Chapter 35 Tobias
Tobias
Tobias’s eyes fluttered open, and he winced past a blinding light. Slowly, the brightness took form into something tangible—a familiar silhouette with subtle curves and long, dark hair.
“Leila?”
She sat at his side, Her naked body beaming like the rays of the sun. “There you are.” She smiled, running a hand through his curls. “My darling.”
He beheld Her for a long while, reveling in Her soft touch. “You’ve rescued me.”
She laughed as if his words were nonsensical.
It was only then that he took in the space around him—a vast chamber with cream walls lined in gold molding and stately marble columns leading to an expansive flower garden.
He lay in a large bed with crisp white sheets bundled at his waist, and he hoisted himself up onto his elbows, sinking into the plush mattress.
“Where are we?”
“We’re home, of course,” Leila said.
“We don’t have a home.”
She chuckled again, shaking Her head. His skin was smooth and unmarked, his frame solid and painless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so clean, so whole.
“Maybe it was all just a bad dream.”
“Stay with Me.” She cupped his cheek. “Don’t ever leave.”
She was a whisper away, and he closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Hers.
The warmth of Her light swept through him in waves, washing away the horrors from his mind.
She threaded Her arms around him, sifted Her hands through his hair, and he relished each delicate sensation, basking in Her presence.
He kissed Her again, savoring the sweetness of Her lips before pulling away, taking in the blazing yellow of Her eyes.
Red. It glistened behind Her, reflecting the light of Her glow. Streams of the color dripped down the wall, covering the surface in a slow-moving river.
“What is that?”
“Paint, My darling,” Leila said. “From your beautiful picture.”
A foul chill carried through Tobias. Blood leaked through the ceiling and slid down the wall’s surface before puddling on the floor. Leila looped an arm around him, nuzzling closer as She eyed the macabre spectacle in awe.
“You painted it just for Me.”
Her voice had become far away, as had Her touch. Blood consumed the bedchamber, consumed him, until it coated his flesh, poured free from his throat, and flowed between his fingers.
Tobias opened his eyes, and pain splintered through him like daggers, leaving no part of his body unspoiled.
The smell of must and sweat filled his nostrils, and his breathing was shallow, his lungs refusing to expand.
He lay sprawled out on the dungeon floor as he had for God knew how long.
He licked his lips, trying to taste Leila, but She was gone, a ghost from his dreams.
He wasn’t sure when Brontes had left him there to die.
Minutes, maybe days. Time slipped away from him as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
How long had he been asleep? He remembered blackness, an all-encompassing void he’d nearly lost himself to.
But he’d returned to reality and the hurt it provided.
Hinges creaked, followed by clomping footsteps.
The warden. Tobias recognized his stride, how the ground rumbled beneath his weight.
His instincts told him to run, to scream, but his body refused to move, his limbs ungoverned by his bidding.
The masked man crouched beside Tobias, craning into his line of sight. “Can you eat, Your Highness?”
Tobias stared into the man’s small eyes. Hatred swelled within him, numbing a fraction of his pain. It was good to feel something real—something other than the constant shadow of death.
“Can you swallow?”
Still, Tobias didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, but the warden didn’t waste time waiting.
Dropping to his knees, he hoisted Tobias onto his lap, sending him cringing and coughing as pangs ripped through him.
The warden brought a skin to Tobias’s lips, and he gulped its contents down, the warm, stale water the most delicious taste he’d ever known.
The skin was empty far sooner than he’d hoped, and the warden pulled out three blue vials from his pocket—purgar, Leila’s holy gift.
He drained each vial down Tobias’s throat, and Tobias choked on the elixir.
“Keep it down.” The warden manually closed Tobias’s jaw. “It will make you stronger.”
The metallic taste of blood coated Tobias’s tongue, and he mustered all his energy to simply swallow. The warden hovered over Tobias, staring down at him with an inspecting gaze.
“Your pain is considerable.”
Tobias would’ve laughed if he could, but he lay still, willing his hateful gaze to speak for him. The warden’s eyes panned up and down Tobias, taking in each gash and wound.
“Brontes has left the stronghold. Your punishment will be avoided for several days.”
Perhaps Tobias should’ve felt relieved, but in his current state, Brontes’s absence mattered little. Was there enough purgar to survive the night? It was hard to imagine when everything within him was threatening to fail.
“Would you like to sleep?”
The warden pulled a vial from his pocket—a fine yellow powder Tobias didn’t recognize, yet he craved it all the same. He tried to speak but merely wheezed.
“I must know that you still possess the will to live. That you won’t succumb to sleep forever.” The warden’s tone had shifted and become stern, almost fearful. “Many become tempted by the peace this herb brings. I need to know you will awaken. That you strive to see your love again.”
I’m already dying. But Tobias didn’t want that. He couldn’t succumb, not yet.
“Do you want to live?” the warden repeated. “Yes or no?”
Another cough sputtered from Tobias’s lips, so he abandoned the idea of speaking.
Instead, he fought to move his head, summoning every ounce of his remaining strength to nod.
The masked man pressed at the vial’s opening, coating his fingertip in yellow, then rubbed the herb across Tobias’s gums. The taste was potent, almost acidic, and Tobias’s eyelids grew heavy within seconds.
“Rest well, Your Highness.” But the warden soon disappeared with the cell around them, as Tobias’s world dissolved into darkness.