The Savior's Champion - Jenna Moreci Page 0,90

she’s standing here completely untroubled.

Wait—what if she doesn’t choose me?

Leila wrinkled her nose. “What’s that look for?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Well, you have to now.”

She crossed her arms and waited, but he said nothing. She’s not going to choose me. Why would she? She’s been in The Savior’s court her whole life. She’s known me for eight days.

Leila scowled. “Fine. Be silent.” She turned to his eyebrow, roughly prodding at the wound. “God forbid you answer a simple question.”

“This is shit,” Tobias said. “I’m losing you before we’ve even begun. How is that right? God, this tournament. How is this fair? We want the same thing.”

Heat flooded through him, while Leila was his antithesis—frozen. Her hand still cupped his face, and after a short, wavered breath, she spread her fingers up into his hair. Chills slinked through his body, and he relaxed into her palm, basking in the warmth of her touch. To hell with the tournament.

Kiss her.

Flynn barreled into the tent, and Leila jammed her fingernail into Tobias’s gashed brow.

He winced. “Shit.”

Leila spun toward Flynn. “Dammit, you can’t just barge in here without permission!”

“Apologies,” he said.

“Fuck your apologies. You startled me.” She pointed to the trail of red oozing from Tobias’s brow. “Look, he’s bleeding now. It’s your fault, you know.”

“I was just checking on our champion.” Flynn peered around Leila at Tobias. “You’re missing your celebration.”

“Yes, well, I’m a little occupied, as you can see.”

“Will it be much longer?”

“Only if you keep interrupting,” Leila said. “Do you think he’s sitting here for his own pleasure? That we’re just making idle conversation?”

“Well, move it along, you two. Before all the wine is gone.”

“Go,” Leila growled.

Once Flynn darted from the tent, she grabbed a rag from the table, dabbing at Tobias’s reopened brow.

“You did that on purpose,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence wedged between them. Leila tended to his wounds, and he tried to focus on the pain—to ignore what hadn’t happened moments prior—but when she pulled away, he found himself missing the gentle ache inflicted by her fingertips.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“You can ask a hundred if you’d like.”

“Have you always known it? That you’re an artist?”

Tobias nodded, and she grinned. “I thought so.”

“Just felt right. Like it was what I ought to be doing all the time.” He watched her wipe down her vials. “Most people can’t understand that.”

“That’s because most people aren’t destined for anything. Unless you count banality as destiny. Take Caesar, for example. He’s destined to cling to his royal ancestry as a means of entitlement. To inherit his family’s fortune, then waste it on wine and brothels. Probably destined to get some unseemly infection too.”

Tobias chuckled, though it felt inauthentic. His mind was wrapped up in that decision they had been discussing—the one neither of them had made.

“It must be hard,” Leila said. “Not being able to do what you’re meant for. I imagine it’s something like a heartache. Like being torn from someone you love.”

“Have you always known you’re a healer?”

A smile spread across her lips. “Just felt right.”

“Then I envy you. For getting to live your life’s purpose.”

Her smile faded. “Don’t envy me so quickly. We all have our own troubles.”

Trouble. Like fighting for your life in a deadly tournament. Like longing for one woman when you’re competing for another. Like unresolved decisions. Tobias’s gaze panned down Leila’s body to the slit of her dress—to the blade strapped tightly to her thigh—and he couldn’t help but wonder what other troubles she spoke of.

“You’re just never going to mention it again,” she said.

His eyes darted away, but it was too late. Leila had caught him staring.

“Mention what?” he asked.

“What you said in the labyrinth. When we were training.”

What is she talking about? Before he could ruminate over it, her gaze met his, and her voice came out hard and steady. “I’m not a saint.”

His shoulders tensed. He remembered now. “You’ve killed.”

“I imagine it bothers you,” she muttered.

“Why would it bother me? I’ve killed too.”

“You make light of the situation? Like it’s nothing?”

“I’ve seen you, Leila. Who you are. You’re certainly not to be toyed with, but you’re compassionate. And you’re kind.” He paused, deep in thought. “If you’ve killed…then I suppose it’s because they left you no choice.”

“They? You believe it’s happened more than once?”

“Am I wrong?”

Leila didn’t answer, her eyes cast down at the floor.

“Moments ago, you were fearful for your life. Speaking of some incredible danger, one you clearly don’t feel comfortable sharing with me.” Tobias cocked his head, trying

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