done it himself, as someone had been kind enough to fold his drape and leave it at his bedside. As the moon rose high in the sky, he ventured through the palace, each step taking him closer to The Savior.
A tall door stood in front of him. Cosima waited on the other side, and he was hesitant to knock, determined to put off the moment for as long as possible.
If you win, you win Cosima.
I picked you for Leila.
The door opened, and a dazzling smile greeted him. “Artist, you’re here,” Cosima said. “You look divine. How are we?”
“Well. And Yourself?”
“Wonderful—now that you’re here, of course.”
Tobias peered over Her shoulder into the room behind Her. A wooden wardrobe stood against the wall, and a stately bed sat in the distance covered in teal throws. “Is this Your—”
“Chamber. Yes it is.”
“It’s lovely. Am I to escort You elsewhere?”
“Oh, no need to trouble yourself. We’re staying right here. Come in.”
Cosima pulled him into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Apologies, but isn’t this a little…?”
“A little what?” She said.
He followed Her through the space. “Are You sure the Sovereign allows this? Us spending time together in Your chamber?”
“Artist, you’re so thoughtful to ask. But as you know, I am a grown Woman, just as you are very much a man.” She cupped his cheek. “What we do together in My chamber is none of My father’s concern, wouldn’t you agree?”
Tobias swallowed hard and nodded.
“Come.” She took his hand. “Sit with Me.”
Dragging him to the bed, She gestured for him to sit before plopping down beside him. She was especially ornamented this evening, Her emerald dress a perfect accent to Her eyes, with hundreds of yellow gems lining Her décolletage, plunging into Her cleavage. She grabbed a pitcher from Her bedside table. “Wine?”
His stomach still reeled from the previous night, but he nodded. She filled two chalices, and he downed half of his straightaway.
“Can you believe it? Tomorrow is the last day of this tournament. It’s all flown by so quickly.” She trailed Her finger along Her chalice rim. “You can’t imagine how delighted I am you’re one of My final three. The way you took down the Dragon was absolutely astounding. Have you any idea what a force you are?”
“I’m just doing my best to serve You.”
“You serve Me well, Artist. I’m very pleased.” She eyed him up and down. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“You’re My favorite. You have been for some time.”
His body clenched, his fears confirmed. “Is that so?”
“Naturally each man of My father’s tournament holds a special place in My heart—risking their lives, all for My hand. I’m eternally grateful.” She smiled coyly. “But there’s something about My Artist that’s always caught My eye. You never fail to arouse My attention.”
“I’m thrilled to hear this.”
“A toast, then.” She raised Her chalice. “To your reward. Hours upon hours to spend however we please. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t dreamt of this moment.”
Tobias’s nightmare barged through his thoughts—a vision he forced aside. With little gusto, he raised his chalice, then downed it whole, waiting for a numbness that never came. Cosima took his drink—more wine, for the love of God—and set it aside along with Her own, turning Her attention to him alone. She leaned in close, and the tingle of Her fingers dragging against his neck sent him rigid.
“So Artist, tell Me—”
“I suppose if I’m Your favorite, now would be a good time to tell You my name. It’s Tobias.”
Cosima paused, taken aback. “How lovely.”
“I thought You’d like to know.”
Her face dropped for the briefest instance, Her eye twitching, but soon enough Her lips picked up into another smile. “My word, look at Me, I’ve been so captivated by your presence, I’ve forgotten My manners.” Her hands clambered across his body. “Allow Me to take your drape. Let’s get you comfortable.”
“I am comfortable.”
“Hardly. You’re so tense.” She unraveled his drape, delicately at first, and when he didn’t budge, She yanked it free. “There. Much better, yes? I want you to feel at ease with Me. After all, we’ll likely be wed one day.”
Tobias didn’t respond, staring down at the scar running down his palm—the faintest blemish, yet it felt deeper, fresh. He traced his finger over the mark, and in turn Cosima’s hand glided down his bare chest.
“You know, I was thinking, You and I haven’t spent much time together,” he said. “I feel as though I don’t know You—not properly, at least. And perhaps