A hand squeezed his thigh—Cosima’s hand—and he jumped from his seat. Surprise and confusion streaked Her face, as if She hadn’t a clue where Her hand had landed. He looked away, turning toward the rest of the dining table.
Everyone was staring at him.
“Apologies.” He sank back into his seat.
The meal progressed quickly, though not quick enough. Tobias remained tight and defensive, anticipating another move from Cosima—a move that never came. Eventually the atrium began to clear, and shortly after Leila disappeared, Tobias ducked away, eager to be rid of The Savior’s presence. As he headed for his chamber, a familiar servant stopped him—Damaris.
Leila’s summoning me.
“To the study?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Follow me.”
Tobias obeyed, trailing behind her down an especially lavish corridor, its walls covered in red and gold leafing. Before long, Damaris stopped in the center of the hallway, gesturing ahead.
“Go on.”
Hesitantly, he continued on his way, unsure of where he was headed. A door flung open, and hands yanked him inside.
A radiant smile spread across Leila’s cheeks, and she sprang onto her toes and kissed him, knocking him off balance. God, it felt good to be wanted like that—urgently, and with conviction—and he reveled in her kiss, savoring it like it was sugary sweet.
Leila tore away from him, locking the door behind them. “Come.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the space.
The room around them was enormous, with a shining gold floor and a marble dome overhead. Pedestals displaying relics and sculptures littered the area, and wooden tables and glass cases lined the perimeter, some boasting elaborate vases, others crystal or jewelry. Tobias’s eyes went straight to the walls covered in grandiose paintings—legendary pieces, all of which he recognized. He gazed in awe at his surroundings, soaking it in—the art and culture, things he had been starved of for what felt like ages.
“What is this?” he asked.
“The gallery. Filled with the finest pieces in Thessen. Wonderful, isn’t it? Here, let me show you.”
She stationed them in front of a painting streaked with grey. “This is—”
“The Wretched, by Alena Tantas,” Tobias said.
“Of course you know. I should’ve guessed.”
“She was one of my favorites when I was younger. I liked the dark works.” He pointed to an adjacent painting. “And this is—”
“The Devoted, by Demetrius Shya,” Leila said smugly. “A depiction of him with his wife.”
Tobias glanced over the piece, an image of two lovers in a warm embrace. “It was a lie, you know. He strayed countless times, drove her mad from the betrayal. Then he caught some horrid infection from one of his affairs. Begged his wife to care for him, but she left him to fend for himself. Poor bastard ended up dying from it. Killed by his own cock. Many said he had it coming. I tend to agree, myself.”
Leila wasn’t listening, smiling as she eyed a glass case filled with figurines.
“What are you looking at?”
She flinched. “Hm? Oh, nothing.” She grabbed his wrist. “Come, over here.”
She pulled him across the gallery, stopping in front of the largest painting in the room: a woman with eyes like ice and light beaming from her body, the rays washing over the people kneeling before her, the lush green trees, the sky.
“This is Petros’s work.”
Leila grinned. “A true apprentice. You recognized his mark straightaway.”
“I recognize it because I assisted.”
“You did?” She pointed to the painting. “This is your work?”
“Just parts.”
“Which parts?”
“Not many. The trees, the flowers, the village, the sky…”
“So everything, essentially.”
“Everything but The Savior.” His eyes danced over the painting, absorbing it. “He said he had a specific vision—that he needed to see it through in full. God, he had been working on this for years. I had no idea this was for the palace.”
“Petros didn’t tell you?”
“He never told me where any of our pieces went. Said it would spoil my mind, that I should work with heart and purpose regardless of where the painting was headed. I just never thought I’d see one…here. Then again, I never thought I’d be here in the first place.”
The two went silent, Leila staring at Tobias while Tobias stared at the painting—a memory of his life before it all changed.
“When did this arrive?” he asked.
“Not even a month ago.”
His eyes flitted to Leila. “Savior’s Day?”
“It was a birthday gift.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He frowned. “A gift for Cosima…”
“When I first saw it…it took my breath away.”
“Then I take comfort in that, knowing you enjoy it.”