Leaning in, Tobias forced his weight into Flynn’s throat. “If memory serves me, you’ve taken no life during this tournament, and I have.”
A grunt sputtered from Flynn’s lips. “Looking to join the likes of Kaleo, are we?”
A jolt shot through Tobias. His fingers were digging into a man’s neck, his thoughts murderous—and he hadn’t a single reservation about it. Stepping back, he released Flynn, leaving the Lord to gasp for air while he stared at the floor. What’s happening? What had he become?
“End it.”
Flynn had regained his composure, standing proud as if he had won something. Tobias glowered. “End what?”
“Your disgrace with Leila. Finish the tournament with whatever honor you have left, and perhaps I won’t tell The Savior of your indiscretions.”
“You can’t force me—”
“I think I can. I think I can do whatever I’d like, in fact. You’re the blasphemer. I carry the cards.” He eyed Tobias over with an air of superiority. “You should appreciate my mercy. I could report you—”
“And I could kill you for it.”
“But instead I’m giving you a chance to compete as intended,” Flynn continued. “Because I’d rather win against a worthy competitor than a traitor.”
“Or is it because you’re not quite sure if I mean what I say? That if any harm comes to Leila, I’ll kill you.” Tobias stalked toward him. “I mean it. I’ll do it.”
He stopped right in front of Flynn, close enough to hear his nervous breathing. Flynn met his challenging gaze, fighting to maintain dominance, however shaky it was. “End it. Fight like a man. So I can win—”
“Piss off, you’re not winning anything.”
With his jaw tight, Flynn headed for the door. “The next time I see you, you better have words for me about Leila, or I swear to God, brother—”
“We are not brothers,” Tobias hissed.
“Of course not, you’re common. I was just being kind. Surely you know my association with you was nothing more than a means to an end.” Flynn yanked open the door. “You will have words for me.”
He disappeared, slamming the door behind him.
Tobias stood in the center of his room, deadened to the world around him. An excruciating silence passed before the moment hit him, crashing against him like a tidal wave. His gut lurched, and his lungs tightened, strained for air, for life. Panic and desperation were an afterthought, emotions reserved for more fortunate men, as the truth of his reality sank into his bones.
He was helpless.
The day progressed quickly, as if time had betrayed him. He needed the afternoon to think, but suddenly the afternoon had become the evening, and still he was without options. Another banquet unfolded, and Tobias spent its entirety staring down at his food. If you win, you win Cosima, and if you lose, you die. Flynn’s words in his ears were their own unique torture, not because of their rancor, but because they confirmed Tobias’s worries, ones he had convinced himself to ignore.
A hand grabbed his beneath the table. Leila’s warm touch had become hard to bear, but still he squeezed her tight, clinging to her for as long as he could. In what reality do you see yourself with her? He couldn’t answer that question, and when her hand slipped away, all that remained was the familiar burning in his chest.
His rage.
The banquet ended, but Tobias stayed put, staring at his untouched plate of food. The atrium around him was still, but everything within him was havocked, his anger ready to pour from his body.
“Artist?” Damaris appeared at his side, smiling. “You’ve been summoned.”
His stomach dropped. Abandoning his seat, he followed her through the palace.
The study appeared in front of him much quicker than he had hoped. The simple black door had become a heavy weight, and he cringed as he pushed it open, reluctantly making his way into the room. God, Leila looked beautiful, like an angel in her pale-blue dress. She darted through the study, anxiously reading over scrolls, and the slow crumbling of his insides commenced yet again.
“Tobias, come.” She flagged him over. “I’ve learned of your next challenge. It’s very dangerous, and there isn’t much time to prepare, so it’s best we get started now.”
Tobias trudged toward her. “For what purpose? So I can be one step closer to winning Cosima? To marrying your Sister?”
His words halted her. “Is something wrong?”
“I just don’t understand why you’re helping me. Why you’re doing any of this, really.”
She set aside her scroll. “You know why.”
Tobias kept his gaze far away—anywhere but Leila. Making