She knows. Nothing She had said mattered, because his heart was already pounding in his throat.
“Artist, you’re so tense.” Cosima rested a hand on his knee. “You really think I’d harm My sister? Look at Me. Am I that fearsome?”
Tobias looked down at his knee—and Her hand. “Apologies. It’s just…she seemed concerned.”
“Concerned?” She nodded. “Because of the Sovereign.”
“Your father?”
“Their relationship is…problematic.”
“They don’t care for one another.”
“Yes, that’s a delicate way to put it. You certainly have a way with words, don’t you?” She sighed. “It’s a shame, their squabbles. Uncomfortable as well. I suppose that’s the burden of family.”
“I suppose so,” Tobias mumbled. “So, You won’t be telling the Sovereign?”
“Telling him what?”
“About Leila. Giving me Your blessing.”
A smile sprang to Her lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But enough about Leila. I’m with My sisters each day. You, on the other hand, are a new and unique experience for Me. Let’s focus on that, shall we?” Leaning on a pile of silk pillows, She traced his form with Her gaze. “I’ll admit, I didn’t quite notice you before. But circumstances can change in an instant, can’t they?”
Tobias tried to feign interest, but he knew full well his muscles were flexed.
“Are we still tense?” She said. “How are you feeling?”
Uncomfortable. Nauseated. Bored.
“I’m fine, thank You.”
Cosima looked down at Her chalice, trailing Her finger along its rim. “Your poem was impressive. A standout among the others. You should’ve heard your competition. Those silly men fumbling over their words. Then you appeared, an utter surprise. Who knew My Artist had such a clever tongue?”
Has She called me Artist this entire time? Is She ever going to ask my name?
“Were you nervous? When you delivered your poem. I imagine you were. I noticed you couldn’t look Me in the eye.”
Tobias stared at his untouched chalice. “It’s difficult…confessing such strong feelings to a room full of people. And the Sovereign.”
“Wasn’t that a turn of events? He just shows up unannounced. How peculiar.”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“Is that right?” She took a sip of Her wine. “Well, fortunately for you, it doesn’t matter if he likes you—only that I like you.”
Tobias rotated his chalice, Her words little reassurance to his churning thoughts.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Tobias hesitated. “I suppose You’ve left me…”
Uncomfortable. Nauseated. Bored.
“Shy?” Cosima offered.
“Yes. That’s the exact word I was looking for.”
“Poor dove. One thing I’ve learned through My time with each of you is even the fiercest of warriors have a softness about them.” She slid to the end of the couch, Her hand once again on his knee. “The tournament has been trying for you, I’m sure, but at the end of the day, this labyrinth runs beneath My fortress, which makes you an honored guest in My home. And if there’s anything I can do to ease your discomfort in My company, I hope you’ll voice it without hesitation.”
Her fingers went to work caressing his knee, though Her touch did nothing but wind him tighter. “I’m not entirely sure what to say to that.”
“Then why don’t you ask Me a question instead. Do I not fascinate you, as your poem suggested?”
Tobias cleared his throat. “What’s it like being The Savior, Ruler of the realm? I imagine it would be demanding at times.”
“Demanding? Perhaps.” Her cheeks flushed. “Can I be candid with you?”
“By all means.”
“There is something, I don’t know…liberating, about living Your life as it was intended. Fulfilling the very role You were destined for. Does that make sense?”
She was a vision of delight, while Tobias lost himself in the familiarity of Her words—a mirror of a conversation he’d had days ago. With Leila.
“It does.”
“Well then, this title I bear is an utter pleasure. Each day offers an adventure.”
“And what of these adventures?” Tobias said. “Enlighten me.”
She let out a laugh. “As if you yourself aren’t living the grandest adventure of them all—this very tournament.”
His body went stiff. “It’s certainly been eventful.”
“This tournament is already slated to be one of legend. Your win against the Giant, for example. Even I couldn’t have predicted such a feat. I’m told Keepers at the Archives have already penned your remarkable performance. Your name will go down in history. The Artist—a hero.”
My name is Tobias. “You flatter.”
“Are you pleased? Seeing so much of your competition fall, yet here you stand?”
Tobias gritted his teeth. Strewn blood, mangled bodies, all so casually referenced. Milo’s end replayed in his mind; it had been days since this vision had haunted him, yet Cosima managed to resurrect it in