front of the room. “Who do you feel is unworthy of this competition?”
Antaeus looked over his shoulder, staring right at Tobias. “The Artist. Cunty little shit didn’t even complete the challenge. Hasn’t the cock to stand beside us men, nor the stones and spine to wear the crown.” He raised his chin, making his already massive frame appear taller. “And I dare any one of these fucks behind me to say any other name but his.”
Antaeus clomped back into line, glaring pointedly at Tobias, and then his beady stare swept the group, sending the other men squirming.
One by one the men stepped forward, announcing their pick for the least-worthy competitor. A few gazed over the line, stopping at Antaeus’s chilling snarl—and expectedly, the same name left each of their mouths.
“The Artist,” Neil said. “He didn’t complete today’s challenge. I think that speaks for itself.”
“The Artist,” Caesar agreed. “Today’s task wasn’t even the most difficult yet. And his actions were a complete affront to The Savior.” He bowed to Cosima. “I’m offended on Your behalf.”
The Artist, said Beau, Garrick, Drake, and Bjorne, and with each nomination, Tobias shrank a little bit smaller. Then Kaleo took to the front of the room, and Tobias’s indignity morphed into rage.
“The Artist.” Kaleo looked over his shoulder at Tobias, chuckling. “What a disappointment. You must feel awfully embarrassed.” He turned to Cosima and frowned. “And You, beautiful Cosima, You must feel so slighted. Poor thing.”
Tobias gritted his teeth, forcing back the hatred threatening to spill from his mouth. He’d known today would be horrible, yet no amount of foresight could’ve made the humiliation bearable.
Flynn stepped forward, standing with purpose. “The Giant. He blasphemes The Savior. Liberally, might I add. In front of everyone.” He scowled at the other competitors. “Shame on the rest of you for nominating a good man, and for dishonoring The Savior.” In an instant his demeanor shifted, and he flashed a cool smile Cosima’s way. “Who, by the way, I’m eagerly anticipating my time with. You look lovely, as always.”
With his nose in the air, he trotted back to his spot in line. Tobias let out a breath, relieved to hear a name other than his own, and the sentiment continued as Orion took his turn.
“The Giant. The Artist is a man of principle. He’s shown courage and compassion in this tournament.” Orion nodded at Tobias. “What he says of the Giant is true. The man speaks of The Savior in vulgar terms, and he disrespects Her court. I’d rather compete alongside a man of integrity than one of suspect conscience.”
Then it was Enzo’s turn, and Zander, and Raphael, their nominations just the same. An inkling of hope trickled through Tobias, and when the Proctor took his place at the front of the room, he clung to whatever optimism he could muster.
“Each of you has spoken,” the Proctor said. “The nominations have been made. Six votes for the Giant, and eight for the Artist. Due to the nature of the information presented, there is only one possible course of action.”
As the Proctor opened his mouth to speak, Tobias held his breath.
“Tomorrow, in our first public viewing at the fortress arena, the Giant and the Artist will fight to the death.”
Tobias’s shoulders slumped, the air sucked clean from his lungs. It was just as bad as he had predicted—worse, as his death would be at the hands of Antaeus, the largest, most formidable man he had ever seen. Leila ran from the room with Delphi trailing behind her, and the devastation of the moment stung that much more.
“Giant, you received the fewest nominations, and thus you will be granted an advantage in tomorrow’s battle.”
Caesar chuckled. “I do believe he already has an advantage.”
“Come tomorrow morning, one of you will continue on in this tournament, and the other will be released in death.” The Proctor glowered. “Let this be a reminder to you all that the Sovereign’s Tournament is a momentous endeavor, and any deviation of purpose will be met with the direst of consequences.”
Death. Tobias stared blankly at the floor, not bothering to hide his shock.
“Good luck to you both. And may the best man win.”
“I suppose that means the best man is the Giant.” Neil laughed.
The men filed from the room, but Tobias lingered. Cosima sat comfortably in Her seat, whispering and giggling with Pippa. Tomorrow, I fight for You, and You can’t even be bothered to care. Hatred steadily built within him, and he tore his gaze from Her, abandoning