the hell is going on? She nestled up beside him, and her light touch sent his back shooting straight, his nerves wide awake.
“This one.” She held up a drawing for them to admire. “The stark contrast between the light and the shadows. You didn’t learn that from Petros, did you?”
Tobias cleared his throat. “It’s mine,” he croaked. “My own technique.”
“I knew it. It’s different. Poignant, even haunting. Elegant, but dark.”
“Your name means darkness.”
Her lips parted. “Is that what that is? Tobias, that’s utterly brilliant.” She looked back at the drawing, pointing to the eyes. “Now this—the keen attention to detail. That’s from Petros, yes?”
Tobias nodded, as he couldn’t seem to form the words.
“I can tell. His influence is unmistakable. But you…you are your own creature. An original. It fascinates me, how you can train under someone so closely and still carve your own path. The authenticity—this looks like your art and no one else’s.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sure this is all so trite to you, you probably hear this all the time.”
“I don’t hear this. Ever.”
She spun toward him. “How is that possible?”
Again, she stared at his art, and in turn he stared at her. She was so close to him, her head just beneath his chin, and a sweet scent filled his nostrils—something flowery, or fruity, or a mixture of the two. It’s definitely her hair. He savored the smell, relishing her body against his—until his looming death bombarded his thoughts.
“Look at this one.” Leila plucked another drawing from the table, pointing to the ash-stained cheeks and nose. “The smudges. You drew the smudges on my face. Tobias, you’re so silly.” Her eyes flitted down to the canvas marked with scribbles and vulgarities. “It seems you got a bit frustrated with yourself on that one. The mark of a perfectionist. I get frustrated with myself all the time.”
Tobias hung on her every word, but his body threatened to ruin the moment, consumed with a tingling adoration and a heaving nausea—with the praise of a woman who made him weak and the heavy knowledge of his impending battle. It was too much. Whatever you do, don’t throw up.
“And here.” Leila laughed, pointing to a single black dot on the slip of canvas. “You even got my freckle. How you noticed it to begin with is beyond me. You miss no detail, do you?” She looked up at Tobias. “I’m rather fond of my freckle, you know. It’s the only one I’ve got.” Her face dropped. “Oh God, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
“No, no—”
“It’s the excitement. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. It’s all just a little…”
Her voice faded, and she stared down at the drawings. Tobias waited for something to happen, and when her eyes glistened over, the vision softened him.
“Leila…”
“They’re perfect. The most incredible gifts I’ve ever received.” She paused, rethinking her words. “Well, I suppose I didn’t receive them, per se. You threw them away. But I’m still counting them as gifts. I get to keep them, right?”
“Of, of course.”
“I’ll keep them private. In my chamber. No one will know.”
Tobias nodded. “Thank you.”
She dragged her fingertips over the slips of canvas. “I do receive gifts on occasion but…nothing like this.” She met his gaze. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Tobias took in the steadiest breath he could manage. The moment was a dream—a beautiful woman fawning over his work. No, this was better, because the woman was Leila, and she was smart, and funny, and she had that adorable freckle. Yes, the moment was priceless—except he was dying tomorrow.
“Leila… Why did you summon me?”
She tore herself from his drawings. “I just wanted to thank you.”
The space between them went quiet. Tobias gazed at her adoringly; he told himself not to, but there was no reason to hide it. It doesn’t matter. I die tomorrow. But she gazed at him just the same, clinging tightly to the folds of her dress.
Her eyes narrowed, her piercing stare suddenly lit with fire.
“And now, I’m going to help you kill Antaeus.”
“Hurry. We haven’t much time.”
Leila scuttled through the labyrinth, and Tobias followed, immersing himself in the ashy stink. Her dress whipped across her legs, her gaze panning the walls, while Flynn plodded at Tobias’s side, eyeing the tunnel with his nostrils flared.
“Never thought I’d be willingly venturing into the labyrinth,” he muttered.
“You’ll survive,” Tobias said.
Leila stopped in front of the wall, peeling off strips of blackened wood and pressing down on the surface beneath it. The bricks promptly split