smile. “Seeing you, of course.” Her eyes flitted toward the arena. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, just wonderful. The servant girls got me all clean and presentable. So glad I’ll be looking handsome when I die.”
Leila sighed. “Tobias…”
“And this armor.” He glanced down at himself. “It’s magnificent, truly, how it exposes all my most vital organs. But thank God my shoulders and forearms are covered. Never mind my heart. Or my gut. Or my fucking head.”
“Tobias, you’re panicking.”
“Of course I am. I’m nearly ’bout to piss myself.” He leaned in closer. “I have to fight Antaeus. The Giant. To the death.”
“And you’ll win.”
“He’s a professional killer. He kills as a profession.”
“Tobias.” She grabbed his chin. “Still your heart. Listen to my words.” Her stare turned hard and focused. “You’re afraid. That’s a good thing. Fear is the knowledge of danger. If you know it’s there—if you see it—you can conquer it. There is no courage without fear. Do you understand me?”
He took in a shallow breath. “I’ve never killed before. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if it’s in me.”
“You’d be surprised what the human will is capable of when it has no other choice.”
Cheering sounded behind the gate—Wembleton had arrived—and Tobias’s gaze darted toward the arena.
“Tobias, hear me.” Leila tugged his chin, redirecting his attention to her. “Today you’ll face an option: either be good and die, or be dark and live. You're a good man, but you will choose the darkness.” She crossed her arms. “And you should. Is it really so bad to rid the world of Antaeus? Not all men deserve the life they’ve been given.”
The crowd applauded again, and Tobias’s stomach lurched.
“Are you feeling any better?” Leila asked.
“Not especially.”
“Tobias…”
“God, there are so many people. All the spectators, the other competitors, the Sovereign—”
“Brontes isn’t here.”
“He won’t be watching? Why not?” Tobias’s eyes widened. “Oh God, he has me dead and buried already, doesn’t he? He doesn’t need to watch because he knows I’m going to lose.”
“And we’ll prove him wrong.”
He held his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Calm yourself.”
“Be truthful,” he snapped. “You can’t possibly believe I’ll win today. I’ve trained for but a night. Antaeus has fought and killed for years. My chance of survival is slim to none.”
Leila fell silent, and suddenly there was a shift in her gaze—a look of despair, of all hope lost in an instant. This is it. I die today. She knows it, and I know it. With a surge of conviction, he grabbed her hands.
“Leila, if I die today—”
“You won’t die,” she spat.
“I need you to know—”
“You won’t die—”
“Please, just let me speak. Please.” He pulled her in close. “If I die, I need you to know I don’t regret entering this tournament. I don’t even regret the drawings. My only regret is that I didn’t take advantage of every opportunity I had to spend my time in your company.” Her hands shook, and he tightened his hold. “These days have been hellish and miserable, but you…you have been my one pleasant memory. And I thank you for that. For making some part of this torment worthwhile and good, if just for a short while.”
Leila’s lips parted, her eyes ripe with feeling—panic, desperation, he could see it all, a swirl of chaos in her bleak expression. Kiss her. Their hands were still tightly locked, her fingers digging into his. You die today. You can die having kissed her. His heart beat in his throat. For God’s sake, just fucking kiss her.
Leila’s eyes suddenly flitted from side to side, fearful. No, terrified. She cringed—“Fucking hell”—then released his hands and dug through her satchel.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Frantically, Leila pulled a jar from her satchel, dumping its contents into her hands—wet, grey clay. She smeared the clay between her palms, coating them, then slapped her hands against his pecs.
“Leila, what the—?”
“This clay is blessed by The Savior,” she said. “And now, so are you.”
“What?”
“With this blessing, you will have the utmost advantage in today’s battle. You will be untouchable. You will walk in the shadows.”
“Walk in the shadows?”
“Imagine a place in the arena where you’d prefer to be, and it will be so.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Any place at all. See yourself there, and it will be done.”
“Leila—”
Cheering sounded from the pews. Antaeus made his way into the arena, and Tobias’s gut heaved.
“There isn’t much time.” Leila turned to Tobias, her gaze pleading. “Use the blessing. Win the battle.”