My palms are slick with sweat. I sit down in the seat beside Tealah
and smooth out the skirt of my dress, if only for an excuse to wipe my sweaty hands on the smooth silk. I look up into the audience, and my breath catches. I’m embarrassed that I hadn’t observed them before, but now I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.
The king and queen and…
Kitt.
They stare down at me from their snug, glass box. The king and his heir sit close together, their similarities striking me like a blow to the chest. Their sandy hair and emerald eyes mirror one another, looking so alike that my hatred for one begins to bleed into the other.
“So, Paedyn, tell us about your incident with Prince Kai!” My eyes trail back to Tealah’s, nearly blinded by her gleaming white teeth and vibrant hair. She leans towards me and places a soft hand on my shoulder, projecting my voice for all to hear.
“Well, according to Prince Kai, there’s not much to tell. But if you ask me, I think he’s a little embarrassed that a girl from the slums had to come to his rescue.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Plagues, I need the people to like me and mocking their prince is probably not the best way to—
Laughter.
To my surprise, and saving grace, the audience finds me amusing. I peek over my shoulder at Kai and watch the ghost of a smile grace his features.
So, maybe I can bash their prince after all. I can work with that.
“Not afraid to tell it like it is!” Tealah laughs softly before moving on to the next question—the one I’m sure many are wondering. “So, tell us again how is it that you were able to fight off the Silencer? I mean, it’s clear you can hold your own in a physical fight, but how come the Silencer didn’t affect you?”
I take a deep breath, knowing that this detail is very important for everyone to understand, to believe. “Well, Tealah, I’m a Psychic. It’s a mental ability that allows me to sense strong emotions from others and get flashes of information. And because of that, I have the power to guard my head, keep it safe from people like the Silencers.” I smile slightly before adding, “And apparently, people like Prince Kai, since he can’t use or sense my small ability.”
“How fascinating! I must say, I’ve never met a Psychic before!” Her eyes are wide, looking very intrigued with me, as I’m sure the rest of the crowd is.
“Yes, well, despite it being a Mundane ability, it does seem to be quite rare.” I smile brightly as if I’m not lying through the teeth I’m flashing at her.
“Alright, Paedyn, tell us about your life in the—” she stutters, almost saying slums before choosing to say, “—in Ilya?”
I contemplate lying some more, saying how it wasn’t that bad, how it was easy living in the slums. But it seems I suddenly have the urge to be honest.
“You mean, life in the slums?” She blinks at me, surprised by my blunt correction. “There’s not much to tell. Life on the streets isn’t much of a life at all.” I look her right in the eyes before turning to face the hushed crowd. “These past few years, hunger and cold have been the only constant in my life. But it’s not just me. There are dozens of others who sleep on the same hard cobblestone I did. Dozens of others who will do anything for a single shilling.” I pause and take a breath. “Living in the slums is survival of the fittest. So, in a way, I’m more prepared for these Trials than anyone.”
Tealah stares at me in shock, clearly not expecting that answer. Then something like pity gleams in her brown eyes. I hate it. I don’t want her or
the crowd’s pity. I want change.
She quickly moves on to more light-hearted questions about training and my fellow contestants. “Who do you think will be your biggest competition?”
“Hmm.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, contemplating my answer.
“Perhaps Prince Kai? Seeing that he has the ability to use any power?” Tealah offers.
“Not mine, remember?” I laugh lightly and so does she. “He won’t be a problem. In fact, we’ll see how far he makes it in these Trials without me there to save him.” I smile sweetly as the crowd roars with laughter, practically feeling Kai’s eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.
“Alright, Paedyn, last question. What do you expect to get out of the Trials?”
My mouth opens, intending to spew out the practiced motto of the Purging Trials like everyone else had. Like I’m supposed to do. But when my eyes lock on the glass box above me, lock on the current and expected king, words fall out of my mouth before I can bite my tongue.
The wrong words.
“Survival. I expect to survive this.”
I can feel thousands of eyes pinned on me.
Tealah manages a slow blink while wisps of teal hair blow across her face in the soft breeze. Finally, she clears her throat and stands stiffly to guide me down the stage.
“Alright then,” she tries to act natural as she says, “show us what you can do!”
Now I’m blinking at her.
How the hell am I supposed to do that?
“Um,” I look around the stadium as I say, “why don’t you chose a random person from the crowd, and I’ll…I’ll read them.”
What the Plagues am I talking about.
Tealah smiles and nods, clearly happy to go do something. I watch as she climbs the steps out of the Pit and begins walking down the rows of people, smiling and waving as she goes. After a few minutes of contemplation, she finally points to a young girl seated a few rows above. The poor girl looks concerningly confused but cautiously stands before making her way down into the Pit, guided by Tealah.
When she approaches me wearily, I realize she can’t be much older than I am. Her short brown hair paired with the freckles splattering her face grant her a constant look of innocence. I smile and reach out to take her hands, wanting to make a show of this.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite,” I say softly when she takes a slight step back. I offer her what I hope is a warm smile, and with that, she slowly holds her tan hands out to me. Grasping them gently in my own, I quickly observe her before squeezing my eyes shut.
I have everything I need.
I think of the tarnished chain around her neck, paired with the faded, large ring hanging from it that was just barely visible behind the folds of her shirt. I’d kept my father’s ring after he died too, only I wear mine on my thumb. “I’m sensing…grief. You,” I squeeze her warm hands, taking a deep breath, “you lost a man that was very close to you. A while ago. Your father?”
I open my eyes to see her mouth hanging open. “Yes,” she says quietly, even with Tealah’s hand on her shoulder to amplify her voice. “Yes, he died four years ago.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know what it is like to lose a father.” I keep my eyes locked on hers, though I desperately want to glare up at the king in his shiny box.
A collective gasp echoes through the crowd, amazed that I could know such a personal detail.
And they want more.
Tealah selects person after person to come down into the Pit, each one more excited to be read than the last. I spout random and personal things about them, things that a stranger shouldn’t know.
“You just found out you are pregnant—” “Your father is a blacksmith—”
“You stole the shoes you’re wearing—”
Every time, both the person I read and the crowd above us are in awe.
They gasp, clap, and cheer—a completely captivated audience.
Plagues, if I knew people liked this so much, I would have charged for readings on the street.
A lanky young man now stands before me, a grin lighting up his face as he stares down expectantly. Closing my eyes, I recall the faint ring of dirt clinging to the right knee of his pants as he walked towards me. That,
combined with the subtle outline of a small box in his coat pocket and the happy glow on his face, I come to my conclusion in a matter of seconds.
“I’m sensing joy. Because…” I release one of his hands to press my fingers to my temple. “You just got engaged. Today.” I open my eyes just in time to see his mouth fall open.
“Yes! She’s right! I just proposed less than two hours ago!” He spins to face the crowd, a wide smile on his face as the audience goes wild.
“Congratulations!” My shout is swallowed by the cheering crowd as he practically skips up the stairs to return to his seat. With that, I spin on my heel and head back to my chair, not waiting for another person to come striding down for me to read.
“Here,” Tealah sweeps an arm behind her, gesturing to us, “are your contestants for the sixth ever Purging Trials!” Her voice echoes across the stadium only to be quickly drowned out by the crowd.
The contestants around me stand, and I do the same. We wave and smile at the crowd, watching as they chant, stomp, and pump their fists in the air.
I feel sick.
I feel used.
This is all a game to them.
But if I want to stay alive, I have to play my part. I have to play them. Being a pawn in their game is the price I have to pay to survive. Make them believe I like this, and in turn, they will like me.
So I straighten, holding my head a little higher as I smile a little brighter.
I am no one’s pawn.
