Damaris shuffled to one of the windows and tugged the shades open, the sunlight slicing through Tobias’s head. He shielded himself. “Oh God, too bright…”
Damaris scowled, then opened the shades wider. Plopping down beside him, she yanked his hand from his temple and roughly buffed his nails. This was the woman with the angel’s touch, but today the angel was conspicuously missing. She finished his hand, dropping it hard in his lap before moving to the other, and Tobias sat in silence, wallowing in all the horrible feelings snaking through him.
Maybe this is the blood and piss I’m supposed to drown in.
Another woman burst into the room. Damaris spun toward her. “Delphi…”
“Damaris.” Delphi gestured toward the door. “Leave us, please.”
“But—”
“Go on.”
Bowing, Damaris scurried from the room, closing the door behind her. Delphi glided over to the window, closing the shades and easing Tobias’s torture.
“No vomit?” she said. “I’m shocked.”
She sat at his side and rubbed creams into his arms, her face dripping with scorn. She hates me. It seemed everyone hated him, though he couldn’t blame them. He hated himself as well.
“I picked you.” Her voice tore through the quiet, startling him.
“What?”
“That’s why I’ve been helping you. From all the men who entered the pool, I picked you. I read your scroll among many, many others, and I. Picked. You.”
“For Cosima?”
“Fuck Cosima. I picked you for Leila.”
Her words were scathing, enough to singe him.
“She may not have seen this tournament as an opportunity, but I did. Her life has been shrouded in darkness. I thought a good man could bring her some light. Some joy. She needed it. And now I’ve only contributed to her darkness.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She looked him in the eye. “No. It’s yours.”
Delphi went to work styling his bedhead, while he in turn shrank ten sizes.
“I understand,” she said. “You think you have no choice in the matter. That by sacrificing your own longing, you protect yourself and Leila. But you’re wrong.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” he muttered.
“I know you don’t, or else you wouldn’t have made such a stupid decision.”
“You hate me.”
“You’re a good man doing what you feel you must. Sacrificing yourself as you have many times before. And for that I pity you.” She twirled one last strand of hair around her finger. “But you’re also the man who broke my sister’s heart. Who sent her crying into my arms. A man who has confirmed her suspicions that all men will bring nothing but pain to her life. And for that, I must hate you.”
There they were again: those horrible feelings, a perfect amount to drown in. He kneaded his temples, desperate to calm the ache.
“Oh, sweet puppy dog, stop that. Look at me, hm?” Delphi grabbed his chin. “Honest truth? You’re both to blame, you for your flapping tongue, and her for her tight lips. If the two of you had traded mouths, none of this would’ve ever happened.” Her gaze became bright. “What an idea that is. Perhaps if the two of you find yourselves in close quarters, you should keep your lips locked and let her do all the talking. I have a feeling that would work wonders.”
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
“Just think about it, love.”
With one last pinch of his chin, Delphi gathered her things and left the room.
Silence floated through the space. Tobias was clean and groomed, but his emotions were a direct contrast, messy in ways impossible to fix. Searching for something to occupy his strained thoughts, he turned to his easel.
It was empty. Why is it empty?
He stared at it, trying to piece together memories that didn’t exist.
“Oh shit.”
Tobias tore from his chamber in a panic. Sickness lurched into his throat, but he didn’t have time to coddle his stomach. I’m never drinking again. When the gallery door materialized in front of him, he couldn’t run through it fast enough.
He skidded to a stop, his breathing labored. In front of him stood his empty wall, except it wasn’t empty any longer.
His painting was hung. Framed.
His throat caught. His painting—his painting—hung in the palace of Thessen, and he was completely certain who was responsible for that. All those horrible feelings lifted if only slightly, making way for the tiniest semblance of hope.
After a moment of quiet awe, he trudged back to his chamber, counting down the minutes until his evening with Cosima. Another servant arrived ready to drape him, but he had