“I see you two found each other.”
That is the first thing Kitt says when we walk into his study. The second is a sighed apology. “I’m sorry for what I put you both through. Truly.”
Paedyn draws a deep breath beside me. “I want answers.”
Kitt stands from his seat. “Oh, I know. You looked ready to rip my throat out in the Bowl. It was chilling, that look you gave me.” Stepping in front of the cluttered desk, he leans against the stained wood. “I think the kingdom finally saw you for what you are—fearsome.”
“Glad to see something good came out of my pain, then,” Pae bites out.
“A lot of good,” Kitt corrects, “came from very short-lived pain. That is why I did it.”
I step forward, crossing my arms. “And what exactly did you do, Brother?”
Kitt coughs into a handkerchief. This worries me, but his gaze looks clearer than it had that night before the Trial. “I’m sorry about the drugging. But, Kai, it was the only way to keep you locked away and out of sight—which didn’t seem to work, as it was. And, Paedyn”—he gestures to her weakly—“the only way Ilya would accept you as queen was if you proved yourself to be stronger than the strongest among us. And a Wielder is that.”
“Fine. But it wasn’t Kai I fought.” She glances over at me. “Clearly.”
“No,” Kitt sighs, “it wasn’t. But I wanted you and the kingdom to think it was the Enforcer. Conquering him would be a huge feat—not just because he is a Wielder, but because he is just as dangerous without an ability.”
He says this plainly, despite how startling I find his words. Kitt has never spoken much of my power, always conscious of the differences between us. But I’ve known how much he despises not being able to prove himself physically like I have my whole life. As the heir, power is controlled, not wielded.
“And maybe,” Kitt continues, “I wanted to test your loyalty to me. See if you would actually…”
Paedyn stiffens, and before she can say anything damning, I hurry to ask, “How did you do it? What Elite could pose as me?”
Kitt’s eyes climb slowly to mine. “We found a Wielder that needed to be taken care of.”
A growing numbness spreads through me at his words.
“It’s true?” Paedyn breathes, whipping her head toward me. “There are other Wielders in Ilya that are being killed because of it?”
“There are very few,” Kitt answers on my behalf, his worried gaze on my growingly distant one. “Father discovered three during his reign, but he would”—a clearing of his throat—“take care of them to ensure that Kai was the strongest Elite in Ilya’s history.”
My voice is icy. “I never wanted that. I thought we agreed to stop—”
“We did,” Kitt cuts in sternly. “But this Wielder came to us. He knew the risks and decided to fight anyway.”
Paedyn is shaking her head, muttering, “Why would he do that? And how did he look exactly like Kai—” Her eyes light up, indicating a realization like they always do. “Illusionist. There was an Illusionist disguised as a Sight, wasn’t there?”
Kitt nods solemnly. “He was casting Kai’s image over the Wielder.”
“She could have died!” I shout, throwing out a hand toward Paedyn. “At least if it were me in that Pit, I would have ensured my own death instead of hers.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Kitt counters. “That is precisely why I couldn’t let you in that arena. You would have sacrificed your life for her. And I refuse to lose you.”
I stare at him, at this sliver of a brother I have never seen. This Trial was perfectly calculated, devised to ensure the outcome he wished. I see now that this was precisely what Father trained him to be—one step ahead.
“But you were willing to risk losing her,” I say evenly.
Kitt’s gaze flicks to Paedyn. “She had to prove herself. It seems I have more faith in her than you, Brother. I knew she could do it, and she did. Neither of you had to die.”
“He’s right.” Paedyn crosses her arms, agreeing begrudgingly. “It had to look real. And now the kingdom is one step closer to bending the knee.”
I shake my head, hurt seeping across my features. “You drugged me, Kitt. Locked me in a room.” My throat tightens. “That is the type of shit our father—my king—would put me through.”
Paedyn’s head dips toward the floor, but the anger on her face is not so easily concealed. I watch Kitt step before me, blocking my view of her. His face crumples with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you, Kai. I’m… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” The expression he wears grows stern. “I never want to remind you of Father. I am better than that.”
I nod slowly. “I’ve always known you were better than Father.” Kitt seems partially pleased by this first step toward forgiveness, allowing me to move on with a bland, “So, I’m just dead, then.”
Kitt doesn’t so much as bat an eye before stating, “Actually, I was going to make you even more powerful. Tell the kingdom you survived.”
I blink. “You really think they will believe that?”
“They don’t need to believe you. They need only to fear you. You will be the Deliverer of Death who has met him and lived. And you”—Kitt’s gaze slides to Paedyn—“have now earned the respect of your kingdom and will be their queen.”
I tilt my head at the powerful lie he’s spun. “So much for never reminding me of Father.”
The study grows stiffly quiet as we all stare at one another. Several seconds pass before Paedyn is clearing her throat and directing our attention to the look of resolve she wears. “I want to see this Wielder.”
Kitt hardly looks surprised by this request. “Paedyn, I’m not sure you will want to see that. His body is in the dungeons and—”
“I want,” she says slowly, “to see. And don’t think I’ve forgiven you yet for what you put me through. What you made me do—whether or not it was truly Kai.”
The king shoves away from his desk, eyes clouded with something close to remorse. Or perhaps that inkling of hysteria I’ve witnessed. “Do you think that was easy for me? Do you think I wanted to watch my brother die, even knowing it wasn’t truly him?” Kitt’s gaze slides to mine, timid as it takes me in. “I hated it. I didn’t want to do it—any of it. And, again, I’m… I’m sorry, Brother.”
I watch his kingly facade crumble beneath the weight of my stare. For the first time, I see just how incredibly lost he is. Where a kind and charming brother once stood, now resides the corpse of duty and power.
A lump forms in my throat as I nod. And then I’m pulling him into a crushing hug. Kitt clings to me, his hold weaker than I remember. For a moment, we are boys again, seeking comfort during Ava’s death or congratulations after a brawl. His breath quivers, as if he is trying to compose himself before murmuring, “I need you with me, Kai.”
I pull away, clapping my hand on his shoulder. “And I hope to never find out what I’d be like without you.”
Simultaneously, our gazes shift to where Paedyn stands beside us. She’s fighting a smile at the sight of such a heartfelt moment before straightening her features. Swiftly, she steps aside with a gesture to the door. “Lead the way, Majesty.”
So, with a sigh, the king obeys. We head out into the hall, setting a quick pace toward the dungeons. Imperials line the occasional wall, looking unsurprised by my very much alive presence. Even the passing servants hardly glance in our direction, and the utterly unperturbed response has me stating, “The castle already knows it wasn’t me in the arena, yes?”
“They were informed a few hours ago,” Kitt replies, rounding a corner. “And they won’t speak a word of the other Wielder. You know how good the staff is at keeping secrets. They’ve been doing it for decades.”
I nod absentmindedly, knowing this to be true. I’m beginning to think Ilya itself was built on secrets—and I doubt I know the half of them.
The dungeons’ thick door looms before us suddenly, its frame decorated on either side by two Imperials. They nod stoically to their king before swinging open the heavy metal entrance they guard. Stone steps await us beyond, descending into darkness and the dungeons below.
The thick air and accompanied coldness greet us at the bottom of the stairs. It’s as though I’ve been welcomed back to my forgotten den of torture. I haven’t been down here since the Resistance’s Silencer, Micah, occupied one of these cells.
I haven’t been down here since I killed him.
Smothering the memory, I stray behind Kitt and Paedyn. The cells are empty of the few Resistance members who once filled them after the battle in the Bowl. They now occupy the several training rings beyond the castle, sprinkled among the numerous Imperial rotations.
“You know,” Kitt reminisces, his voice echoing off the grimy stones, “the last time I was down here was when I led you straight into the tunnels you were looking for, Paedyn.”
She takes a breath, looking pained. “Not a particularly fond memory, I assume.”
“I understand, truly. There is always a reason for the hurt we cause.”
Paedyn opens her mouth before abruptly shutting it at the sight of an occupied cell. Her feet slow; mine do the same.
A body lies on the stone floor with a familiar silver dagger buried in his chest.
It’s odd, seeing a man with my same power be reduced to such a simple death. I have never met another Wielder, never got the chance before Father’s hunger for power ensured I was the only one of my kind. But looking at this Elite, a part of me wishes I had someone to bear the burden of this ability with.
Still, Paedyn stands there, rooted to the spot outside that cell. Her voice is alarmingly small. “It’s him.”
Kitt steps forward. “What?”
“It’s Adena’s boy from Loot.” She chokes on his name. “Mak.”
My head whips back toward the body, eyes tracing the identical pattern of his vest. Every pocket and every seam—exactly the same.
This is the friend she met at the Fort.
Paedyn staggers into the cell, her gaze gliding over the man. I follow her, taking in his shaggy hair, long enough to tickle the sides of his neck. A silver streak peeks out among the black strands while a scar slices through the corner of his mouth. Brown eyes stare blankly at the ceiling above, though a vague sort of relief seems to fill them.
Slowly, Pae drops to her knees beside him. His skin is leeched of all color, contrasting starkly with the dark vest hugging him tightly. Blood stains his clothing, surrounding that silver dagger in a pool of crimson. With shaking fingers, Paedyn traces the soiled seam of his vest. She sucks in a breath before following the rise and fall of every pocket stitched onto it.
Her fingers stumble over a string of stitched words. The blue thread is splotched with blood, dulled beneath one of the many pockets. I hear Paedyn’s breath catch before the murmured words that follow. “See you in the sky.”
Eyes wide and rimmed with tears, she lifts her gaze to mine. “He was trying to say that in the arena. He was dying, and that was the last thing he wanted to say.”
“Paedyn…” I crouch beside her and place a gentle hand on her back at the same moment Kitt rests one on her shoulder. Our eyes meet for a single, uncomfortable moment, in which we glimpse the rest of our lives. Paedyn will always be between us. Soon, she will no longer be mine to comfort, mine to have.
And pathetically I will still love her. She is forever lodged within me, the only pure spot on my stained soul. But for now, I do not pull away. Not until vows are wedged between us, and that ring on her finger holds a greater weight. Until then, I will have her in whatever way she lets me.
“Even after our time on Loot together, he still blamed me for Adena’s death,” Paedyn breathes. Her fingers curl around the vest’s perfect hem. “The way he was fighting… he really did want to hurt me.”
My stomach twists, hating that she ever believed it to be me in that ring with her. But tensions were high, and this Wielder was there to play a part—me.
“He wanted to avenge her.” She shakes her head. “I can’t blame him for that. I only blame myself.”
My eyes meet Kitt’s over the worried girl between us. She leans back slowly on her heels, a silent stream of tears decorating her skin. “But he decided not to kill me,” she murmurs. “He could have killed me. If we hadn’t met, I wonder if things would have been different.”
Paedyn’s head falls onto my shoulder, and for a moment, I forget my brother’s presence. Kitt looks away, his throat bobbing with emotion. Perhaps it’s envy, irritation, even, and I hate it. This is all wrong, seeing him like this. Being like this with him—
Paedyn slips an arm through Kitt’s, tugging him close.
I stiffen slightly, Kitt doing the same at the sudden inclusion. But Paedyn doesn’t so much as flinch. She simply stares at the body before us, her own pressed between two brothers.
The sheer vastness of Pae’s grief pulls my attention back to her. She clings to Kitt’s arm with her head tipped against my shoulder. I also know this girl better than she lets most. I can read each tremble and unspoken word.
She wants silence. She wants to sit in this grief. And when she is ready to be pulled out, her betrothed and his brother are right here to do so.
“We never got to say goodbye to her.” Paedyn’s whispered words are not meant for our ears. “But at least we could share how much we both loved her.”
It’s a long while before she breaks away from the press of our bodies and lifts a hesitant hand toward the Wielder’s glassy gaze. She shuts his eyes gently, offering him the peaceful end she couldn’t give in the arena. Numbly, Paedyn straightens his vest before brushing stray strands of hair from his cool forehead.
“Take care of her for me,” she whispers atop his pale skin. “Take care of her, Mak.”
I almost don’t hear her final, broken whisper.
“See you in the sky.”
