empty wall. His wall.
“There.” He set the painting on the floor. “For Leila darling. Make her smile.”
He ran his fingers down the wall, petting it gently, then stopped short. I’m talking to a painting. “Oh my God, my liiiiife…”
A giggle sounded behind him, and he spun around, nearly throwing himself off balance. A cloudy figure stood in the doorway, but he recognized her blonde hair, her sweet smile. “Pippa?”
“What are you doing, silly?”
He pointed to the painting. “I was just, I was bringing it where it goes.”
“You’re talking funny.”
“I was just bringing it where it needs to be, that’s all.”
She peered around him at the lilies. “It’s very pretty.”
“You think so? Oh good, that’s what I was trying to do.”
“I can take you back to your chamber. Would you like that?”
Tobias nodded, and Pippa scampered to his side, linking her arm with his.
The two staggered arm in arm through the palace. Pippa didn’t seem to mind his clumsiness, giggling as if it were a game, and her laughter reminded him of happier days. Of Leila. They reached his chamber, where Tobias promptly stumbled over an invisible nothing; Pippa grabbed hold of him, saving him from a nosedive, and he looped an arm around her shoulders for support.
“You are quite possi…quite possibly the nicest person in the world.” He pointed at her, accidentally poking her in the cheek. “That’s what makes you Pippa. Always nice, no matter what. Don’t ever, don’t ever change, not for anyone.”
Pippa guided him toward his bed. “You’re nice too.”
He pouted. “No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, you’re wrong. And I’d know, because I’m me, and I know me. I’m not nice. I’m not.”
Groaning, he collapsed onto his bed, while Pippa hovered over him, her head cocked. “You’re so sad.”
“I don’t feel well,” he mumbled.
“Why?”
“Wine.”
She tugged his drape, unraveling it from his body. “The wine made you sad?”
“No.” He sighed. “Wine made me sick. I made me sad.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m stupid. A useless, fucking, stupid, fucking cock.”
Pippa laughed. “You said cock.”
“I want to die.”
“You can’t die. The Savior will be sad.”
“Fuck The Savior,” Tobias grumbled.
Pippa frowned. “That’s mean.”
“I hate Her.”
“No you don’t, you love Her.” Pippa took a seat at his side, folding his drape neatly. “And She loves you.”
Her words made him sicker, and he flopped onto his side. “I don’t want to talk about Her anymore. Ever again.”
“Because you’re sad?” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe The Savior can make it better! Whenever I’m sad, She always makes it better. I put my head on Her lap, and She says to me, ‘Little duckling, everything will be all right.’ You should try it.” She grabbed hold of Tobias’s head and thunked it onto her lap. “Little duckling, everything will be all right. Is it helping? I’ll keep going. Little duckling, everything will be all right. Little duckling, everything will be all right.”
Her voice faded into the back of his mind. Everything will be all right. At some point he drifted to sleep, wishing those words were true.
***
“Tobias.”
Leila’s breathing mirrored the rhythmic pulsing of their bodies, her moans as euphoric as the feeling of being inside her. Tobias came in harder, grinding his hips into hers, and she dragged her nails down his back, marking her territory. Wrapping her legs around him, she forced him in deeper, the pleasure surging through him in waves.
“Tobias.” Leila went still, looking him in the eye. “Do you love me?”
Yes. The word sat on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken. Yes, I love you. He threaded his fingers through her hair, watching as her locks changed from rich dark chocolate to fiery red.
Cosima lay beneath him. “Artist, is something wrong?”
Leila. She was gone, leaving him with the naked Redhead and his violent panic. He closed his eyes, fighting to ignore Her, but his insides ripped to shreds, and the world around him spiraled into darkness.
“Artist.”
Tobias opened his eyes and winced. His head throbbed, his vision speckled with white, and the churning of his stomach nearly sent him retching. A redhead hovered over him, but this one was plump and wore a white servant’s dress.
“Damaris?” He pulled himself upright. “What is… What’s going on?”
“I’m here to get you presentable,” she said. “For your reward.”
“Already?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
He glanced around the room. Sun spilled from beneath the shades, a knife to his skull. “God…”
“The Shepherd and the Prince are already with Cosima.”
Tobias didn’t respond, consumed by his misery—by that nightmare. It wasn’t enough he suffered during