Tobias laughed again, this time loudly, and a sting shot through his nose. “God, no more.” He cringed. “It hurts to laugh.”
“I won’t say another word.”
“No, don’t do that.”
His words sent her still, and a smile slowly spread across her cheeks.
“You know, I have a theory about you,” Tobias said. “And the rest of the court.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“You’re all spies.”
She chuckled. “Spies? Is that so?”
“You’re gathering information about us. For Cosima.”
“And where would you get an idea like that?”
“Delphi. She knows everything about everyone. And you seem to have us all memorized already."
“Memorized?”
“You call everyone by name,” Tobias said. “Hansel, Bjorne, Zander. I haven’t a clue who you’re speaking of half the time.”
“Yes, well, when you’re lancing pustules and stitching wounds, you learn a thing or two about the people they’re attached to.”
“Still, I’ve spent much more time with these men than you, and I’m forced to rely on their laurels.”
She scoffed, “I refuse to rely on the laurels.”
“For what reason? Because they’re trite? Silly?”
“Because they’re dehumanizing.”
Her voice was hard, as if Tobias had sparked something within her, and her rigid neck and shoulders revealed her truth—an anger, controlled and contained but undeniably there.
“When the first man was killed in the labyrinth, Wembleton announced it to the realm. He said, ‘Today, a man has fallen. Let us honor the Jester, for he died a hero in the Sovereign’s Tournament,’ and the people cheered.” Leila’s jaw tightened. “I imagine the reaction would’ve been quite different if he had told the truth. That Isaac was beaten to death. That he was murdered.”
She rummaged through her satchel—for what, Tobias didn’t know, though it seemed she was merely keeping herself occupied.
“Wembleton made the same announcement for Fabian, for Milo, for Lucian and Hansel. And the people cheered—for the Farmer, and the Benevolent, and the Cetus, and the Poet. Nameless beings, as if they were characters from folklore. Well, I prefer to see you all as you are: men. With names, with families…” She glanced at Tobias. “With sisters.” Her gaze flitted away. “The masses can remain ignorantly blissful if they please. But I’d rather live my life with my eyes open.”
A stretch of quiet swept between them, leaving Tobias with the heaviness of Leila’s words—and the relief they granted, a validation he hadn’t known he needed.
Leila looked his way, finally noticing his silent staring, and her face flushed. “Well then, it seems as though I’ve ruined a perfectly lighthearted conversation.”
“You’ve done no such thing.”
“You’ve become awfully quiet.”
“I was listening. Your words are quite comforting.”
“Oh?” She forced a laugh. “I speak of death, and you’re comforted?”
Tobias chose his words carefully. “It’s nice. Knowing I’m not the only one.”
“The only one?”
“With my eyes open.”
Her gaze darted toward his, boring straight through him. She relaxed her shoulders. “You’re right. We’re spying.”
“I knew it.”
“I trust you’ll keep this between you and I,” she said.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
The tension dissipated, the moment light and easy in a way he hadn’t expected—until memories of the challenge bombarded his thoughts.
“God, I feel terrible,” he groaned.
“What is it?” Leila planted a hand on his forehead. “Are you in pain?”
“No, it’s just, I’m remembering.” He sighed. “The challenge… All those frogs…”
“You’re upset about the frogs?”
“There were so many of them. All beheaded.” He winced. “It was a massacre.”
Leila went still—then laughed unapologetically, losing herself in a fit of giggles.
Tobias shot her a phony glare. “You don’t understand. You weren’t there.”
“Yes, well, if you struggle with the death of frogs, I fear you’ll find the remainder of this tournament quite hard to endure.”
Her words, while uttered between giggles, were honest. Somber. Tobias thought about where he was—lying on the lap of a healer, fighting past the pain of a poisoned body. There were twenty-six days left in the tournament, yet he had hardly survived four.
“I suppose I’m not cut out for this competition.”
“Maybe you’ll surprise yourself,” Leila said. “Maybe goodness will prevail, yes? Wouldn’t that be a nice change?”
Tobias took in a deep breath; it was easy now, normal even, as this moment of peace—the first gentle calm since the start of the tournament—was enough to dull the pain coursing through him.
“Why are you still here with me?” he asked. “You must have others to tend to.”
Leila brushed his curls into place, and he sank into her lap. Her eyes connected with his, and with her soft gaze came a grin.
“They’re my potions. I’ll use them how I please.”
***
The steady slapping of flesh against flesh sounded from the