Chapter 36 Leila
Leila
Three nights had come and gone since Leila last spoke with Prisca, but it may as well have been an eternity.
She’d known to expect the delay, but the passage of time picked at Her already stricken nerves.
Each sunset was a reminder of another day Tobias waited in a dungeon, another day of torture, another day closer to death, if he still lived at all.
Leila shuddered. She couldn’t wait any longer.
So, when Prisca finally announced the trial, it wasn’t dread that filled Leila, but relief.
“Who accepts the challenge?”
The queen sat in her balcony as she had days before, but Leila hadn’t joined her. She stood amid the masses in the square below, a speck of little importance at the whim of the Kovahrian queen. Without hesitation, She made Her way into the center of the square, then took to one knee and bowed.
Gasps rang off from the balcony overhead.
Hylas, Raphael, and Delphi gaped at Her, shock and fear plastered across their faces.
She hadn’t told them of Her decision, and given their reactions, She was grateful for it.
Then She caught sight of Naomi and Yucana, the same horrid emotions alive in their stares, and Her stomach sank.
A guffaw stole Her focus. A new line of prisoners stood paces from Her, and several laughed uproariously at Her expense.
It didn’t matter that She was a queen in Her own right, nor that Her skin glowed.
Kovahrians had little care for Her title or magic.
She was a fraction of the size of the average Kovahrian, hardly a threatening warrior by their standards.
The trial hadn’t yet begun, and they’d already doomed Her to die.
The crowd parted as a man shoved his way forward. Enzo appeared at Leila’s side, sweat glistening on his forehead as he caught his breath. “I volunteer myself as champion for Her Holiness,” he said. “I will fight in Her honor and represent Her in battle.”
Leila stood upright. “He will not represent Me. I will fight on My own.”
“Your Holiness—”
“Leila of Thessen has accepted the challenge.” Prisca’s eyes panned to Enzo, then narrowed. “Stand back, Guard.”
Enzo glanced between Leila and Prisca, two queens in direct opposition to him. Swallowing hard, he stepped back into the horde, though the green wisps of his fear lingered, burning Leila’s nostrils.
Prisca turned her attention to the crowd. “Does no one else accept?”
An uncomfortable silence hovered over the square, and then two burly men appeared from the throng of people, taking a knee on either side of Leila.
One was heavily muscled with a thick auburn beard, while the other was rotund, his brown hair split into two long braids hanging down his back.
Both men eclipsed Her in size, and neither looked Her way, as if She didn’t exist.
“The trial begins at dawn.” Cheering and chanting rang out among the masses, and a hint of a smirk graced Prisca’s lips. “And what a spectacle it will be.”
She stared straight at Leila, not bothering to mask her satisfaction.
It burned Leila, how Her sacrifice and suffering had become the Kovahrian queen’s amusement.
She clung to Her hatred, letting it fuel Her resolve.
In less than one day, Leila would either hold the key to saving Her love, or She’d lay dead in the Queen’s Forest.
And Prisca didn’t care either way.
“In honor of Her Holiness’s last meal with us, a feast!”
Laughter and cheering erupted around the dining table, and Leila clenched Her jaw.
“It is only a joke.” Prisca had told Leila that each time she’d made the claim—that it was Leila’s last bath, Her last sunset, and now this.
Leila didn’t find humor in the statement, nor did She believe it was intended as such.
No one seemed to think She’d survive the trial, and unfortunately enough, their doubts were well founded.
Someone slammed their fist against the table, and She flinched.
Nearly the entire citadel staff filled the space, overflowing from the heavy wooden seats and chugging beer without a hint of decorum.
Soldiers tore into sausages and gobbled up stew, gravy and spittle dripping from their beards, and Leila’s appetite soured upon spying chewed food in too many open mouths.
Prying eyes tore through Leila. Naomi and Yucana were staring at Her, and She fought to avoid their line of sight, still wounded by their words from days prior.
Raphael too held Her in his gaze. He had fought with Her to change Her mind, and She could practically feel his pleading thoughts through his chestnut stare.
Fortunately, She didn’t seem to be Enzo’s priority; he was busy comforting Hylas, who sat teary-eyed in his seat, visibly fighting the urge to bawl into his stew.
Leila sighed. Not even Her allies believed She’d see victory.
A soldier belched across from Leila, and She dropped Her cutlery and stood.
She’d had enough. She abandoned the dining room without parting, winding down the neighboring corridor to nowhere in particular.
She just needed to get away—away from the gnashing teeth, from the cheering, from every reminder that the masses awaited Her demise.
“Leila!”
She stopped short and spun around. Naomi loomed behind her, grunting as she manually pushed the wheels of her cart. “Leila!” She fussed with her wheels, though they didn’t budge, stuck on one of the stone slabs along the floor. She groaned. “God, I hate this cart.”
“Let Me help you.”
Leila hurried to her side, taking the handles of the cart and guiding it forward. Sighing, Naomi slouched in her seat. “I’m telling You, one day I’ll make something much more suitable for the task, once I have the means.”
Leila nodded along, Her thoughts elsewhere. “Where are you headed?”
“To find You, obviously.” Naomi looked over her shoulder at Leila. “What the hell are You doing?”
“I’m helping you down the hall.”
“You know bloody well what I’m asking.”
Leila brought the cart to a halt. Naomi’s eyes had become penetrating, a look She’d been avoiding for too long and could no longer escape.
“You can’t enter the trial,” Naomi said. “Ten armed criminals from the realm of warriors? And You must somehow best them all?”
“There are three of us versus ten of them. If we each manage—”
“Leila, You’ll be killed.”
The words rattled Her. “It must be done.”
“But why? Why sacrifice Yourself for some foreign queen? I just don’t understand.”
Leila wilted. “I thought you’d be glad to see Me gone.”
“Why would You ever think that?”
Leila froze, stunned by the earnestness of Naomi’s words. She watched Leila intently as if searching Her face for an answer, and that alone—that unstated camaraderie—repaired a fraction of Leila’s broken heart.
“Delphi is furious with You, You know,” Naomi continued with a huff. “She didn’t even attend the feast. And I can’t say I blame her. What You’re doing is madness—”
“The queen won’t lend Me her army,” Leila said. “She won’t help Me save Tobias.” She gazed up at the ceiling. “Either I enter the trial, or Tobias . . .”
The words died on Her tongue. Naomi sat quietly in front of Her, and when She finally dared to glance her way, tears had brimmed her eyes.
“There’s no other way?” Naomi asked.
Emotion thickened Leila’s throat, but She swallowed it down. “I wish there was something else, but this is what I have to do.”
A brief silence drifted between them. Naomi’s lip wobbled, and a single tear tracked down her cheek. “So, it’s happening again. First my brother goes off to fight, and now You.”
Leila was already teetering on the edge, and the pain in Naomi’s gaze was nearly enough to send Her plummeting. She gave Naomi’s hand a firm squeeze, then flagged down a guard standing paces away. “Zhitinka.” She gestured to Naomi. “Take her wherever she’d like to go.”
Naomi looked over her shoulder, watching Leila until she rounded the corner, and Leila let out a shallow breath.
Her patience had whittled away, and every horrid feeling that had been plaguing Her was fighting to the surface.
The hallway to Her chamber was paces ahead, but before She turned the corner, a familiar husky voice echoed off the walls.
Leila groaned. Enzo. She didn’t need to see him, not now.
She peered around the corner, confirming Her suspicions.
Hylas and Enzo stood in front of Hylas’s chamber, seemingly about to part ways.
“You are sad.” Enzo eyed Hylas over, tilting his chin up to reach the senator’s line of sight. “I do not like it.”
Hylas shifted from foot to foot. “Am I bothering you?”
“No, no,” Enzo said. “I wish that your sadness was . . . what is the word?” His hands floated in front of him as he spoke. “That it was the other way. Glad, and with the smile.”
Hylas’s voice became soft and sheepish. “I feel better when you’re near.”
A long silence swept through the hallway, awkward enough to make Leila cringe. Eventually, Hylas heaved out a sigh. “I suppose this is goodnight, then.”
“Yes.” Enzo nodded a bit too fervently. “You need sleep for strong body and mind. Awake to conquer and spill much blood.”
Hylas’s frown wasn’t lost on Leila, even from where She stood. “Well then”—he opened his chamber door and headed inside—“pleasant dreams, Enzo.”
Enzo’s hand shot forward, stopping the door before it could shut behind Hylas.
The senator turned to face him, eyes wide, and Enzo rattled off a long string of Kovahrian, his words so swift Leila could barely decipher them.
Scent. Forest. Lick. By the time he’d finished, Hylas stood frozen, lips parted and mind swirling behind his gaze.
“W-what does that mean?” he choked out.