Screams fill the air. Silencers are doused in flame, and the smell
of burning flesh has me gagging.
The Silencers are rolling around in the sand, trying to smother the flames licking at their skin, burning their clothing. Their smothering silence over the contestants has snapped, setting them free.
I still have no idea how it happened, how Kai suddenly broke free of the Silencer’s control and took on Kitt’s Dual ability. His blast of fire, his brutal attack, has sent the whole arena into chaos once again. My eyes dart to the stands where the crowd is beginning to push back against the Resistance, and a struggle ensues.
Imperials are suddenly pouring into the arena to join the fight, and I’m shocked by how many have arrived so quickly. I whip my head around, aware that the number of black-masked figures is dwindling.
We weren’t expecting this. We weren’t prepared to fight, to lose.
I need to get out of here. Now.
The idea of running at a time like this makes my stomach churn, but the future king knows what I’ve done. The thought pounds through my skull as I scan the arena for him. He’s currently pushing through the crowd now gathered around the glass box after they overpowered the Resistance and scattered from their stands. Flames lick up his arms as he fights anyone who comes near him.
Kai has run to join the fight, his movements precise, perfect, as he drops Resistance members left and right. The sight of it makes me sick. I have no idea where Jax is, but I spot short burgundy hair in the sea of people and know immediately that it belongs to Andy.
And for her sake, Blair is lucky I can’t seem to find her.
Oh, but I will. And I’ll enjoy killing her.
I move to stand to my feet and abruptly stop at the feel of a heavy weight on my lap.
Adena.
Tears prick my eyes yet again, but I blink them away, forcing myself to keep my head. I look from her calm, motionless face to the chaos around us and the bloody battle that is raging. I try to lift her up with me, but she’s heavy—dead weight. Literally. I choke at the thought as I push her off my lap and settle her onto the sand.
I can’t take her with me.
She will never get a proper burial. She will never get the goodbye she deserves.
“I’m—I’m so sorry, A,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I stand to my feet, wiping at the tears I tried to stop from falling. I start to turn away from her lifeless body, unable to bear the sight of it any longer.
“I love you.”
And then I’m running.
Coward. Just like with father.
The symmetry in their deaths is sickening. Both run through in the chest.
Both bleeding out before me.
Both left lying on the ground, left to rot without a burial. Both deaths ending in me running.
I want to scream.
At myself. At their killers. At the world.
I push through the throng of people, through the massive mob fighting in the Pit, the stairs, the stands. Black and white masks clash as Resistance members battle Imperials. But the fight isn’t fair. There are so many Imperials, and even with the power of the Fatals beside the Ordinaries, the Resistance is outnumbered.
I weave between bodies and duck under punches as I shove up the crowded stairs leading out of the Pit and onto an equally crowded pathway above. My many years of dodging and slipping unseen through Loot serve me well as my feet fall into a familiar rhythm, treading softly, swiftly.
Shouts wash over me, cries echo through the arena. The fight is a dull roar in my ears, but I force myself to follow the flow of people trying to get away from the fight rather than join it.
I want to turn around. I want to fight with the Resistance, with my people.
What good would you do?
Those five words snake their way into my head, wrapping around me so tightly I feel like I might suffocate. The choking hold of that thought only tightens when eight little letters string together, creating a word equally as devastating as the last five.
Powerless.
In every sense of the word.
The human current I’ve allowed myself to be swept away in finally dumps me outside the Bowl. Wind whips at my hair when we emerge, all of us spilling out into the long, wide path lined with trees. The path that leads to the palace.
The Ilyans around me scatter. They dart, running around the outside of the Bowl until their feet find another road heading in the opposite direction. The road that leads to the city.
I start to follow them, my legs moving of their own accord, leading me to Loot. Leading me home.
And then I stop.
Something in my chest is aching—my heart.
Adena’s vest.
I spin, staring at the castle that holds the promise I made.
“I’ll wear it every day for you.”
The promise pounds in my head, and it’s all I need to start sprinting down the tree-lined path. The pink flowers and dainty petals that rained down on me the first time I walked this path are long gone. They are now dead and trampled on the ground, leaving only empty buds and leafy branches swaying above me as I race beneath them.
Bloody foot and injuries be damned. The few Imperials that chased me back in Loot for stealing could have never gotten me to run so fast, so far.
When my feet hit the cobblestone courtyard, I don’t bother slowing. I race over it as raindrops begin to prick my skin and slick the ground beneath me. I scramble up the stone steps leading to the giant, gilded doors of the castle.
Get inside. Grab the vest. Get out. Make it to Loot and—
“Miss Gray!”
I startle, looking up to see four Imperials stationed outside the heavy doors I had been too busy sprinting towards to see. An older man rushes down to meet me, concern crinkling his eyes around the white mask he wears.
“Miss, are you alright? Has the fighting stopped? Has the Resistance been defeated?” His eyes search mine, looking for answers.
So they clearly know what is going on inside the Bowl’s walls, and yet they are stuck here. They’ve no doubt received specific orders to stay and guard the castle, along with the many other Imperials I’m sure are prowling inside. The ones I need to get past to get to my room.
“Yes, I’m—” I need a plan. Fast.
And the one that comes to mind is one I’m not proud of.
I let my body go limp as I stumble forward on the steps. I throw out my hands to catch my fall, but the Imperial beats me to it. He wraps an arm around my middle to steady me, and I suppress the urge to snap it in half.
I reach down and clutch at my foot and the blood-soaked cloth carelessly wrapped around it, now nearly falling off with all the running I’ve done. I plaster on my best grimace, though it’s not difficult to do with the adrenaline slowly seeping from my body to be replaced by pain once again.
“You’re hurt.” The Imperial’s eyes dart to my foot when I hiss in pain.
How observant.
“Yes, but I’m fine. I just—” I place my foot back on the step and gasp dramatically in pain. I’m really milking this for all it’s worth. My fingers curl around the Imperial’s starchy, white uniform, my eyes pleading. “I could barely make it out of there. It’s chaos. And I’m—” I take a shaky breath. “I’m so scared and my foot hurts so badly and I don’t know what to do—”
Plagues, I cannot believe I’ve reduced myself to this.
I sound hysterical, and that is exactly what I was going for. The Imperial glances up to his friends at the top of the steps before returning his
concerned gaze back to me. “Why don’t we get you back to your room so you can rest and get that foot healed? This will all be over soon.”
A tear rolls down my cheek as I nod fervently at him, hoping I look scared and stunned, though I am neither of those things. I just need him so I can get to my room without looking suspicious. Without drawing attention from the other Imperials who will ask questions I don’t have the answers to. But if I have an Imperial as my escort, the problem that is me will already be handled and under control.
Another two things I am neither of.
“Ranken, take Miss Gray to her room. Then inform a Healer that she needs assistance.” The Imperial gestures to a broad man with bulging muscles that are evident even through the stiff uniform he wears.
Brawny.
He nods and saunters over to me, saying in a deep voice, “This will be faster and far less painful for you if we do this my way.”
Apparently, his way involves scooping me up and carrying me like an incompetent child. His hands are under my knees and around my back, easily holding me against him as we step through the large doors and into the hallway beyond. My first instinct is to swing my legs over his shoulders and lock him in a chokehold before flipping him to the ground. But that was before my smarter, more strategical instinct reminded me that this is what I want, what I need to do.
So, I swallow my pride and let him carry me. Let him stride down each hall with me in his arms and dozens of Imperials buzzing around us. I fight my smile when they barely bat an eye in our direction.
Before I know it, the Imperial sets me on my bed, grumbling something about sending for a Healer. I wait until the sound of his footsteps grows distant before bolting off the mattress and throwing open the doors of my wardrobe.
I tear through the dresses and fancy training gear to a shelf in the back. Pants and comfy shirts are neatly folded there, the work of Ellie and her constant cleaning. Reaching under a stack of cotton shirts, my fingers brush against familiar rough fabric.
My heart squeezes as I pull out the vest I’ve kept hidden away. Its olive fabric is dull, and yet, I’ve never seen anything more perfect. I run my fingers along the pockets lining both the inside and outside of the vest, making it the ideal accessory for a thief.
I take a deep breath before slipping it on over my cut tank now slicked with sweat. Then I grab a new pair of boots and am about to slip them on when the door creaks open, revealing a stout man who can only be the Healer. “I heard you were injured?”
“Yes,” I blurt before putting on a show of stumbling towards him. “It’s my foot.”
“I see.” The man waddles over, gesturing for me to sit on the bed. I consider knocking him out before deciding to take advantage of his quick healing first. He gently takes my foot in his hands, and I watch as his fingers dance over the jagged cuts crawling up my ankle. The sight of my flesh knitting back together sends memories of my father flooding into my thoughts, paining me more than the injury.
I blink them away when the Healer finishes, leaving only faint pink lines as evidence of my wounds. “Well, if that is all—”
I slip my dagger out from under the pillow beside me, and the Healer is out cold when the hilt of it connects with his temple. I try my best to soften his fall, but he nearly crushes me as he comes crashing to the floor. I step over his body, slipping on my boots and whispering my thanks though he will never hear it.
I silently slip into the hallway. The Imperials think I’m safely in my room, whining about my wound, and though that image infuriates me, I’d like to keep it that way. If I’m seen, my cover is blown.
Luckily, I have lots of practice at going unseen.
I’m on the balls of my feet as I creep down the hallway, prepared to jump into a room or change directions at any sign of movement. I dart down halls, avoiding the large, more frequently used ones as best I can.
The few Imperials that happen to cross my path are distracted and easily evaded as I head towards my escape—the gardens. It’s the closest exit to where I am, as well as the only one that is likely unguarded. With the current chaos causing the castle to be undermanned as it is, I’m betting that the exit will be far from every Imperial’s mind.
And I was right.
I reach the door leading to the beautiful landscape beyond and swing it open. The rain is relentless, continuing its fall from the cloudy sky above. I hurry through the paths lined with flowers of every color, size, and shape. Then I’m breezing past the fountain where Kitt and I nearly splashed half of the water out at each other—
Kitt.
I push the thought of him and my betrayal away, focusing all my attention on making it back to Loot as quickly as possible. Which won’t be quick at all, considering I’ll have to make it there on foot.
I’m back on the path leading towards the Bowl, making my way to the one leading towards Loot. I’m panting, legs pumping, as I sprint once more down the tree-lined path. Grief and anger mix with adrenaline, making me feel equally energized and exhausted all at once.
The Bowl looks more daunting than ever before. Metal beams and concrete tower over me, and the shouts and sounds of the struggle within only add to its intimidating presence. Every citizen who hasn’t joined the fight must be long gone by now, leaving the Resistance and Imperials to battle within the arena.
I pass a tunnel leading into the Bowl. And then another.
I keep my eyes on the road home as it draws closer and closer.
The broad figure of a man staggers out onto the path I’m so desperately trying to get to. He’s clutching at his head, though I can’t make out any of his features as I blink rapidly in the rain.
All I know is that he is in my way.
He turns, hand still pressed to his temple, and spots me. I don’t bother slowing my pace. Whoever this man is, I won’t hesitate to take him down if he tries to stop me.
I’m running, getting closer with every step, all while squinting through the rain as I try to get a clear view of his face.
He’s smiling at me.
It’s the kind of smile that sends a shiver down your spine. The kind of smile that is anything but kind. The kind of smile that tells me this man knows exactly who I am.
My feet falter. Less than a dozen yards separate us now. And that’s when I see it.
I see green eyes, colder than the rain soaking through my thin clothing. I see golden hair, duller than the cloudy sky.
I see lips twisted in a smile, wickeder than the storm raging above us. “Ah, Paedyn Gray,” he calls to me over the whipping wind, his voice
sharp and silky all at once. “Or should I call you a Resistance member? An Ordinary? A betrayer?”
I step closer, though I already know exactly who stands before me.
I see the king.
Anger isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion coursing through me when I look at this man—this monster, this murderer.
His eyes are crazed, his hair bloody from a deep gash near his temple still dripping blood. How he managed to get away from the fighting mob inside the Bowl is beyond me. And yet, here he is, stumbling right into my path. Stumbling alone.
The king is completely alone.
I almost want to thank the Plague for this gift. Almost.
I continue striding forward, refusing to run from him, from this opportunity. The sound of sliding steel sings through the rumbling thunder as he draws a sword from the sheath at his side.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked that I figured it out,” he croons, causing my blood to boil. “I knew this was coming. You wheedled your way into my naïve son’s head, his heart, and got what you needed for your little Resistance. And as for knowing you are an Ordinary, well, I’ve known for quite some time now.” A smile twists his face at the look of shock on mine. “Not to mention that I knew who your father was, what he was a part of. I knew many things about him before his unfortunate end.” His smile is evil incarnate. “Stabbed through the chest, was it?”
I go rigid, every part of me filled with rage. But I force a cool mask over my features, ignoring his last statement and referring to his first. “And what should I call you? King or coward? Liar or murderer? All would be appropriate, don’t you think?”
He barks out a laugh, and I can barely control my anger at the sound of it. My hands shake as I ball them into fists at my sides, nails cutting into my palms. Words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You killed her.” He huffs as if this amuses him. “Who, your little friend?” His eyes flash, betraying the anger he’s kept buried. “No. You killed her. I warned you about the Trials. I warned you to stay away from my sons. You’ve made my kingdom look weak. You’ve made my heirs look weak.” He spits out the word, disgusted with his own flesh and blood. “You had Kai helping you in the Trials, running after you during a ball. You had the future king wrapped around your finger, spilling every secret and bit of information you needed. You are the murderer, Paedyn.” He takes a step towards me, and I’m rooted to the spot, shaking my head. “You forget what you are, Slummer. An
Ordinary doomed to die. You are nothing.”
“Then why didn’t you kill me?” I yell. “If you knew what I was then why not kill me like you have with every other Ordinary?”
“Because I needed you alive,” he says simply. “But now you are of no use to me, and since the Trials didn’t kill you, I get the pleasure of doing that myself.” He pauses and a sneer twists his lips. “Can you read what I’m going to do next with that Psychic ability of yours?”
A sudden flash of silver blends in with the rain. A sword is swinging at me.
