“Prince.” The Proctor’s beady gaze drifted to Flynn. “Your move.”
Shit. Flynn was terrible at this game. He stared at the tiles as if they were an insurmountable obstacle, and Tobias’s hopes sank. He can do it. So long as he doesn’t draw a riddle, he can do it. Maybe. Hopefully. Flynn placed his hand on a tile, sending light shooting from its surface, and Tobias held his breath. For the love of God, Flynn, don’t draw a riddle.
Flynn removed his hand, revealing an all-seeing eye.
“You’ve drawn a riddle,” the Proctor announced.
Flynn winced, deflated by his choice—a feeling Tobias shared.
“Her Holiness is good and true,” the Proctor recited. “It is Her light that heals our realm, Her mind that makes it just, and Her power that rules. But your quest in this tournament is for something else—something She may grant you but will never leave Her person. Break it, and She will live. You, however, will not.”
The Savior’s heart. The answer repeated in Tobias’s mind as if it could somehow transfer into Flynn’s thoughts. Dammit, it’s easy. It’s Her fucking heart. But still Flynn’s gaze was despairing, and he muttered hopeless profanities while placing his hand on a tile.
Light burst through his tile, and then it faded, leaving behind a black heart.
“The Prince continues in the game,” the Proctor said.
Flynn sighed with relief, and Tobias couldn’t help but mirror the sentiment. Remember this day. You’ve borne witness to a miracle.
“Artist,” the Proctor barked. “Your move.”
His words wrested Tobias from his calm. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, but now that it was here, he was reminded of that shattered tile. Throw the challenge. You have to. He scanned the tiles, vaguely recalling the symbols they held, all the while formulating a plan. This needed to look convincing, and with little confidence, he pressed his hand onto a tile, setting it aglow.
The light faded, and in its place was an all-seeing eye.
“You’ve drawn a riddle,” the Proctor said.
Fancy that. Tobias put on the most determined face he could muster, but he couldn’t help but watch Leila in his peripheral vision, who watched him all the same.
“Grown in the darkness, this beauty shines bright with pale light,” the Proctor recited. “Though it is not the light of The Savior, She keeps it close to Her heart, Her hair, Her dress.”
Pearls. Cosima had worn them every time Tobias had seen Her; even now they draped Her neck. And how convenient he recalled seeing pearls on a tile just in front of him—convenient but useless, because he needed to lose. And he needed that mallet to smash his hand.
Seconds crept by, his body tight and resistant. Do it. With a deep breath, he laid his hand on a tile and cringed.
A snap sounded. The mallet crashed down onto his fingers, and an eruption of pain radiated through his hand.
“FUCK!”
“Hold your tongue,” the Proctor barked.
Tobias gritted his teeth. His ring and little finger were red, swollen, and clearly broken, and he winced and looked away. A groan swept through the room; Leila slapped her palm against her forehead, while Delphi grinned at her side.
“Artist, you are the first man to answer in error and the loser of this challenge.” The Proctor’s eyes narrowed. “For that, you must be punished.”
Solitude. Tobias held his hand against his chest, trying to ignore the pulsing pain. Let it be solitude.
“Your penalty is solitude in the sanctuary. Go now, and spend your time contemplating the deep disappointment you’ve bestowed upon our Savior.”
Thank God. Tobias hurried from the room much quicker than was wise, and with each step, his pain and humiliation became an afterthought, an inconsequential byproduct of a far greater reality. He was headed off to a day of solitude.
A day with Leila.
***
Time crept by at a glacial pace. Tobias sat in the sanctuary, his mangled hand pulled close to his chest. The challenge must’ve gone on for hours, or perhaps Leila was taking her time, and the stretch of nothing left him restless.
Finally she appeared in the labyrinth, drifting weightlessly. She stomped at the floor, sending the stone steps floating up from the massive pit, and skipped across them in the most nonchalant fashion. Tobias tried to hide his fast-forming grin. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but God, he had been waiting for this moment.
Plopping down in front of him, Leila unfastened her cloak, revealing a dress in midnight blue. Her hair was especially full and shiny, billowing down her shoulders like waves of