The smell alone tells me that we have arrived at Loot Alley.
I never thought I’d miss the stench of fish, sweat, and bodily fluids, but here I am, smiling despite it. The wide market street hums with life and vibrance. Merchants haggle behind their carts while children weave around them, evading shouting mothers.
All of it is perfectly untouched. Perfectly as it was when I was struggling to survive within it.
At the sight of the long entourage, carts begin rolling out of the way while shoppers scuttle behind. The homeless that inhabit these slums begin to peer out from the many alleys branching off Loot, bored enough to let their curiosity drag them onto the street.
It is a flurry of color, this jostling parade. Bright, emerald banners flap against the belly of our coach and every one surrounding it. Ilya’s flag is raised above a row of sleek horses, that swirling symbol rippling in the breeze. Shimmers manipulate the sunbeams to create a dazzling display of speckled light that drips down our coach and dances across the cobblestones.
My smile comes easily here, despite never doing so before. Perhaps some small part of me was homesick for this shithole I grew up in. Or maybe it’s because I understand these people. They are Elites, yes, but they are also outcasts. Here lie the Mundanes, the poor, and the few Ordinaries still left in this kingdom.
And one of them has just returned.
I wave at the shocked faces sliding by. They don’t look at me with disgust like the Elites outside the slums do. The most emotion I’m offered is confusion or indifference. When looking at me, they likely see themselves. I was living right beside them, stealing from right under their noses, not too long ago.
My eyes scan the packed crowd of tired faces staring back blankly. There are so many of them, all fighting for the same food and shelter. I wonder how many Ordinaries are hidden among them, blending in with hunched shoulders and a broken will.
I hope they see me now. Every smile, every wave, every sacrifice I’ve made for them.
My eyes light up at the sight of a crumbling building. “That’s Maria’s shop there.” I point, directing the boys’ attention to my sudden enthusiasm. “I used to steal her sticky buns and fabric before climbing up the chimney to escape.” I smile at the memory. “The sticky buns were for both of us, but the fabric was obviously for… Adena….”
I trail off, but the feel of watchful eyes on me forces more words from my mouth. “So, I’ve had a lot of practice climbing up chimneys, even when I hate small spaces.” I shoot a pointed look at Kai. “Which is why I didn’t burn to death when you lit my house on fire.”
“My search had to be thorough, darling,” he muses. “Don’t take it too personally.” His words are casual, perfectly playing the part of dutiful Enforcer. But I see the apology hidden in the gaze he keeps pinned on mine, see the promise we share.
Pretend.
With a realistic rolling of my eyes, I turn my attention back on the gawking crowd. I continue my routine of waving and—
My smile falls slightly.
I know we are halfway down the street when the bloody post comes into sight. The wooden block is stained a sickening shade of red, drenched in the blood of dozens. It stands as an example, or rather, whipping practice for the Imperials.
The faint scars flecking my lower back seem to sting at the sight of it. My clumsy fingers were the cause of many slashes across my skin. That is, until I got good enough to steal from the very Imperials who made me bleed.
“Paedyn?”
I turn toward the voice, finding Kai’s concerned gaze on me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I say calmly. “Just reminiscing.”
His eyes climb over my shoulder then, and I can see the exact moment he realizes what it is I’m talking about. A cool mask slips over his features, concealing what I know to be that terrifying, icy rage simmering beneath. His mouth opens, perhaps to ask who it was that stood over my crumpled body and let the whip crack. Perhaps the Enforcer will demand to know how many times I found myself at that post or, better yet, admit how he never noticed the scars on my back despite running his hands over them plenty of times, damn the king sitting beside me.
But I never find out what it was he meant to say.
Instead, he dives over me when the explosions erupt.
I’m thrown against the floor of the coach, Kitt toppling beside me as Kai’s body shields the both of us. My ears ring from the impact, drowning out the screams I know echo all around. Lifting my cheek from the dirty floor, I blink blurry, watering eyes. The burst of light momentarily blinded me, but as my vision slowly returns, muffled sound follows.
Screams. Pained, guttural screams rip through the ringing in my ears. I bolt upward, pushing at the limbs pinning me down. I know it’s his calloused hand that wraps around my wrist even before the order leaves his lips. “Stay down!”
I barely hear his shout over the chaos consuming us, over the deafening panic rising within me.
What the hell is happening?
I must have croaked these words aloud because Kai is suddenly answering, “Bombs. Man-made.” Then he’s barking orders once again, morphing back into the Enforcer he was created to be.
My head pounds, whether from the impact or from my racing thoughts, I’m not sure. Each breath comes in quick, shallow pants.
Who is behind this?
Kai’s orders, once muffled and distant, grow clearer. “On me!” I can see nothing but the billowing black smoke wafting above the coach, but know enough to determine he’s just assigned a group of Imperials to surround the king and his future bride.
He looks down at me then, eyes flicking between my wide ones. “Stay here. You’re going to be fine.” He doesn’t let himself linger any longer before jumping from the coach and into the thick smoke.
I shudder when another explosion shakes the coach, followed by an eruption of screams all around. Horses bolt past in a panicked trance, free to weave through the chaos without their riders. Sitting up suddenly, I meet Kitt’s worried gaze. Imperials surround us, acting as a shield against the horrors beyond. Kitt remains stiffly on the floor, following the orders of his Enforcer. And rightfully so. He is the king, after all.
But I am no queen. Not yet.
All I can smell is burning flesh and thick smoke. All I can hear are terrified screams and the thudding of my heart. All I can think is that this is my home. These were my people long before I was told to rule over them. These screaming Slummers chose me to go into the Purging Trials, because they saw hope for one of them to become something more.
And I have become so much more.
I offer one last look at my betrothed. He must see it in my eyes—the hurt, the determination, the tangible need to do something other than sit here.
“Paedyn, don’t—”
I jump from the coach before his hand is able to grasp my own.
The circle of Imperials have their backs to us, and I don’t hesitate before sweeping the feet out from under one blocking my path. He falls with a thud, allowing me to bolt past despite the shouts ringing out behind.
I skid to a stop at the horror surrounding me.
Chunks of stone careen from crumbling buildings lining the street, shattering atop the cobblestones, and tearing screams from the throats of scuttling figures. Flames lick over dozens of carts to melt coins and burn the livelihoods atop them.
I spin slowly, taking in the street I once called home. Bodies scatter the ground, some twitching while others lie stone-still. A shaky hand rises to cover my mouth and the sob growing within it. Blood paints the street, blending with the fire to create a horrific depiction of death itself.
I don’t know what to do, how to help—
A soft whimper sounds beside me.
I whirl, finding a bloody boy staring up at me mere steps away. I’m skidding to his side, sinking to my knees in the pool of blood surrounding him. His pale skin is sheened with sweat, breaths shallow beneath the crimson bubbling from his chest.
A shard from a nearby building is wedged between his ribs.
I swallow my sob and place shaking hands around the wound, trying to stall the blood as best I can. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m so sorry. You’re… you’re going to be okay.”
The boy’s honey eyes simply stare into mine. He doesn’t cry out, doesn’t beg for life. He only stares, preparing to meet his bloody end.
Honey.
Those eyes are like honey. So similar to her sweet gaze. Suddenly, it’s Adena dying before me all over again. And all over again, I cannot save her.
A tear slides down my dirty cheek. Blood oozes between my fingers, nausea swelling with every second the sticky liquid stains my skin. But I don’t dare move my hands. And just like I had with Adena, I tell this boy that he is going to be fine. I spew lies, spin a happy ending into existence even as tears slip from my burning eyes.
And when he takes his final breath—gaze trained on the sky—it’s as though I’m back in that Pit, cradling her dead body. Death steals the boy from my incapable hands, oddly gentle in the way he halts this straining heart. My mouth opens, a cry on the tip of my tongue—
But my arms are being yanked back, fingers sliding from his wound. I feel numb in the rough hands that wrap around me. My dress is soaked in blood, the drenched hem dripping a path behind my dragged body.
“Dammit, Pae. You never follow orders, do you?”
His voice is harsh, but I hear the tinge of sorrow lacing every word. I let the familiar arms cling to my waist, let Kai nearly carry me back to the coach. My unfocused gaze sweeps over the still-scrambling bodies tripping over those littering the ground.
Loot is in shambles.
My home is in shambles.
And so is my heart.
