Candlelight flickers down the length of the table, dousing every plate of food in a honeylike glow.
The court sits snugly together to crowd around the feast. They talk idly, drowning in their finery while nibbling at their meal. Dragging a hand through my hair, I catch myself wishing this banquet was a ball, if only so I could slip away unnoticed within the swirling bodies.
Instead, I sit stiffly to Kitt’s right, on display and at his disposal. He seems distracted, green eyes glazed over. I can’t help but notice the slight gauntness of his face or rasping of his voice. He looks worn enough to warrant concern I can’t currently give before his court. It seems the king did not rest, as he promised.
Paedyn shimmers across from me, picking politely at the food on her plate. For a moment, it feels as though we are seated back in time at that dinner before the Purging Trials, the one where I all but forced her to eat. The night she became my weakness.
It’s familiar, this scene. Simple.
Except that it’s not, and the king beside her is not my father.
I’ve spent most of the evening watching Kitt lean over, conversing quietly with his betrothed. Paedyn smiles each time, the action tugging at that scar trailing down her throat. The elegant high neck of the dress she wears conceals the far more vicious one below, though my gaze continually falls to where I know the carving to be.
This should not upset me, their closeness with each other. They are engaged, after all, and speaking civilly is the tamest of actions. But I cannot seem to shake the gnawing envy in my gut, the jealousy that flares with every look shared and word exchanged. It’s tiresome, this turmoil between love for my brother and love for his betrothed.
“You seem to have quite the appetite—just not for your food.”
With a heavy exhale, my eyes flick toward the source of that accusing tone. Beside me, Andy raises a brow, her nose ring flashing like the challenge in her eyes. I give her a tired look. “Just spit it out, Andy.”
Using only the corner of her mouth, she fires back, “Stop staring at what you can’t have.”
I lift a piece of turkey to my mouth. “I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
This voice belongs to the girl beside my cousin, her sheet of black hair swaying as she leans over the table to meet my stare. I don’t know the Crawler well, but I recognize her as Andy’s friend from the ball. Though, with a quick glance beneath the table at their interlaced fingers, it seems safe to assume that their relationship has progressed further.
“See,” Andy says smugly. “Jasmyn is my witness.”
“Yes”—I take a quick sip of champagne—“thank you for your astute observations.”
Andy tucks a strand of wine-red hair behind her ear. “Kai, we talked about this—”
The shrill clinking of glass saves me from my cousin’s wrath. I turn toward Kitt, watching him stand at the head of the table. Scanning the room, he offers a small smile to his court. “To Paedyn Gray, your future queen. Who successfully showed not only her bravery, but also her benevolence.” He peers down the table distantly. “Onward to her brutality. And long live the Silver Savior.”
When I lift my glass, the entire court is quick to follow. “Long live the Silver Savior,” they mutter in unison, most begrudgingly.
Champagne bubbles against my tongue, warming my throat. My eyes are back on Paedyn, though her own are pinned on something far down the lengthy table. I watch her gaze grow suddenly cold, lethal in a way I know firsthand she can be. Following that look, I scan the many faces decorating the throne room.
And then my eyes stutter over her.
The lilac hair falling over Blair’s shoulders seems to oddly compliment Lenny’s fiery red waves to the left. She sits comfortably in the seat beside her father, arms crossed and lips teasing the Imperial. They look familiar, at ease with each other in a way that is likely making Paedyn’s head spin.
I glance back across the table at her, watching as a sheet of icy anger creeps over her expression. She looks ready to avenge Adena right here and now. Staring at this version of the Silver Savior, I fear for those who make her feel nothing.
No remorse. No compassion. No worry for her stained soul.
I raise a hand, hoping to stop her from doing something reckless, when she stands suddenly. Her chair squeals against the marble floor and turns every head in her direction.
Panic pushes me to the edge of my seat, awaiting her next move. But it is the false smile she plasters on her face that has me truly worried. Lifting a glass, she clears her throat in preparation for a toast.
My fingers curl around the table’s edge.
Paedyn’s bright smile and cold gaze fall back on Blair.
“To the Ordinaries,” she says cheerily. “And every unjust death. May they be avenged.”
Then she tips her head at Blair and lifts the glass to her lips.
I glance down the table to find a lilac head of hair bowing right back.
“To the Ordinaries.”
I barely register the grumbled words that only half the court bother repeating. And it is only when Paedyn takes her seat that I’m able to draw a deep breath. Uncurling my hand from the table, I wait for another wave of dull chatter to sweep over the room.
When all eyes have fallen from Paedyn, and every mouth has moved on to another topic, I lean forward to murmur, “Well, that was suspiciously civil.”
Those blue eyes flick up to meet mine. “I wouldn’t call a threat civil.”
“For you,” I amend plainly, “that is.”
Taking an interest in our hushed conversation, Kitt chimes in with a discreet, “Once again, you know why I can’t let you hurt her, Paedyn.”
Gripping her fork, she rolls a piece of potato around her plate innocently. “And you know why I can’t let her live.”
“Pae.” Kitt’s gaze snaps to me at the familiarity in the word. Shit. I carry on quickly before any of us can ponder what I’ve just said. “You can banish her when you’re queen if you like, but don’t do anything rash before you wear that crown.”
“I don’t need to hide behind a crown,” she grits out.
“Yes, you do,” Kitt murmurs evenly. He brings a napkin to his mouth before coughing into it. I narrow my eyes at the hoarse sound he cuts off quickly. “Ruling is all about hiding. The truth, motive, yourself—all of it. And the earlier you learn that, the easier it will be for you in this castle.”
Paedyn blinks at him, and I can’t help but do the same. There is that piece of Father he possesses. Swallowing, she places her palms firmly on the table. “It seems like we could all blow off some steam.” Then a sudden, wicked tug of her lips. “Now, where is this wine cellar you always used to sneak off to?”
Wine dribbles down the fingers I have tightly curled around the bottle’s neck.
Paedyn’s dress is an emerald pool atop the floor of the cellar, flickering in a beam of candlelight. She tips her head against the cool stone wall and laughs loud enough to have my face splitting into a smile.
Turning her bewildered gaze on me, she manages, “You did not!”
“He did,” Kitt blurts on my behalf. “I’m the one who broke his fall.”
Pae’s mouth falls open as I attempt to defend myself. “I was five, all right. I could barely use my power, let alone know which ones even exist.”
“So he climbs up onto the roof of the stables,” Kitt explains, a drunken smile turning his lips. “Now, Kai Pie here was convinced there was an Elite who could fly—”
Paedyn snorts, quickly muffling the sound with a palm to the mouth.
“—so he decides to jump from the roof and test the theory,” Kitt finishes with a laugh aimed at me.
“Why,” Paedyn huffs toward me, “would you think that was a good idea?”
I take a swig of wine before answering. “In my defense, I could barely sense powers at that age, so I thought a… flying Elite might be possible. Now, that didn’t mean there was one nearby, but…”
Kitt slaps a hand against the stone floor, laughter morphing him into the boy I grew up with. Giddiness bubbles from Pae in a way I rarely get to witness, evidence of the wine loosening her tongue and lifting my spirits. I grin brightly and wonder just how much of it is due to being with my brother in this cellar again.
“So you crashed right into me,” Kitt declares, slapping a hand on my shoulder, “and broke my leg.”
“Well, your body broke one of my ribs,” I counter. “Besides, it was your idea to test my theory.”
“That doesn’t mean you should do it.”
I catch Paedyn’s eye, aware of what it is she sees. We are so very free in this moment—laughing together like old times and living like life never got in the way. Cheeks flushed and duties forgotten, we sit here as brothers who bear no titles.
“I like you two like this,” she says softly.
I bring the bottle to my lips, swallowing the dark wine. “Like what? Drunk bastards off our asses?”
Kitt laughs, clinking his flagon against mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
Paedyn shakes her head at us. “No—well, maybe—but I just like the two of you being so… carefree. Together.”
That has Kitt looking suddenly serious despite the ruffled hair and unbuttoned shirt. His gaze is earnest as it slides to mine. “Just like old times.”
“Just like old times,” I echo.
“I missed you, Brother.” Kitt sighs. “I miss us.”
“I’m right here, Kitty.” My smile is soft. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Haven’t you?” The words are a startling snap. And then the king is laughing, smothering that accusatory tone with a smile. It’s an odd flickering of emotions I doubt he intended to show us. But when he turns to Paedyn, bottle lifted sloppily into the air, his tired eyes are bright. “To old times.”
