Powerful, page 15
Silly of me to think that the Resistance was the only secret Father kept from me.
My fingers brush worn leather before I pull out a large book, stuffed with papers that threaten to spill out. I flip through it, recognizing the messy handwriting of a physician.
Father’s journal.
I shove it into my pack, knowing I don’t have the time or safety needed to study his work now. I’ve been here too long, spent too many days wounded and weak and worrying that I’ll be found.
The Sight that witnessed me murder the king has likely displayed that image all over the kingdom. I need to get out of Ilya, and I’ve already wasted the head start he so graciously gave me.
I make my way to the door, ready to slip out and onto the streets where I can disappear into the chaos that is Loot. From there, I’ll attempt to head across the Scorches to the city of Dor, where Elites don’t exist and Ordinary is all they know.
Reaching for the door and the quiet street beyond—
I halt, hand outstretched.
Quiet.
It’s nearly midday, meaning Loot and its surrounding streets should be a swarm of swearing merchants and squealing children as the slums buzz with color and commotion.
Something’s not right…
The door shudders, something – someone – ramming into it from the outside. I jump back, eyes darting around the room. I contemplate ducking down the secret stairwell to the room beneath that held the Resistance meetings, but the thought of being cornered down there makes me queasy. That’s when my gaze snaps to the fireplace, sighing in annoyance despite my current situation.
How do I always find myself in a chimney?
The door breaks open with a bang before I’ve barely shimmied halfway up the grimy wall, my feet planted In front of me while bricks dig into my back.
Brawny.
Only an Elite with extraordinary strength would be able to smash through my barricaded and bolted door so quickly. The sound of heavy boots has me figuring that five Imperials have just filed into my home.
‘Don’t just stand there. Search the place and convince me that you’re useful.’
A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of that cool voice, the one I’ve heard sound like both a caress and a command. I stiffen, slipping slightly down the sooty wall.
He’s here.
The voice that follows is gravely, belonging to an Imperial. ‘You heard the Enforcer. Get a move on.’
The Enforcer.
I bite my tongue, whether to keep myself from letting out a bitter laugh or a scream, I’m not sure. My blood boils at the title, reminding me of everything he’s done, every bit of evil he’s committed in the shadow of the king. First for his father, and now for his brother – thanks to me ridding him of the former.
Except he’s not thanking me. No, he’s come to kill me instead.
‘Maybe when I rid myself of you, I’ll find my courage. So I’m giving you a head start.’
A lot of good his head start has done me.
I can’t risk being heard scrambling up the chimney, so I wait, listening to heavy footsteps stomping through the house in search of me. My legs are beginning to shake, straining to hold me up while my every wound has me wincing in pain.
‘Check the bookcases in the study. There should be a secret passage behind one,’ the Enforcer commands dryly, sounding bored.
Once again, I find myself stiffening. A Resistance member must have confessed that little secret after he tortured it out of them. My pulse quickens at the thought of the fight after the final Trial in the Bowl when Ordinaries, Fatals, and Imperials clashed in a bloody battle.
A bloody battle that I still don’t know the outcome of.
The steps of the Imperials grow distant, the sounds of their search softening as they head down the stairs and into the room beneath.
Quiet.
And yet, I know he’s still in this room. Only a feeble amount of feet separate us. I can practically feel his presence, just as I’ve felt the heat of his body against mine, the heat of his gray gaze as it swept over me.
A floorboard creaks. He’s close. I’m shaking with anger, revenge coursing through my blood and desperately wishing to spill his. It’s a good thing I can’t see his face because if I were to catch sight of one of his stupid dimples right now, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from trying to claw it from his face.
But I steady my breathing instead, knowing that if I fight him now, my fury won’t be enough to beat him. And I intend to win when I finally face the Enforcer.
‘I imagine you pictured my face when you threw that knife.’ His voice is quiet, considering, sounding far more like the boy I knew. Memories of him flood my mind, managing to make my heart race. ‘Isn’t that right, Paedyn?’ And there it is. The edge is back in the Enforcer’s voice, erasing Kai and leaving a commander.
My heart hammers against my rib cage.
He can’t know I’m here. How could he possibly—?
The sound of a blade ripping from splintered wood tells me he yanked my knife out of the wall. I hear a familiar flicking noise and can practically picture him mindlessly flipping the weapon in his hand.
‘Tell me, darling, do you think of me often?’ His voice is a murmur as if his lips were pressed against my ear. I shiver, knowing exactly what that feels like.
If he knows I’m here then why hasn’t he—?
‘Do I haunt your dreams, plague your thoughts, like you do mine?’
My breath hitches.
So he doesn’t know I’m here, not for certain.
His admission told me as much.
As an Ordinary who was trained and tailored into a Psychic, my father taught me to read people, to gather information and observations in a matter of seconds.
And I’ve had far more than a matter of seconds to read Kai Azer.
I’ve seen through his many masks and facades, glimpsing the boy beneath and growing to know him, care for him. And with all the betrayal now between us, I know he wouldn’t declare dreaming of me if he knew I was drinking in every word.
I hear the humor in his voice as he sighs. ‘Where are you, Little Psychic?’
His nickname is laughable, seeing that he and the rest of the kingdom now know I’m anything but. Anything but Elite.
Nothing but Ordinary.
Soot stings my nose and I have to clamp my hand over it to hold in a sneeze, reminding me of my many nights thieving from the stores lining Loot before escaping through cramped chimneys.
Cramped. Trapped. Suffocating.
My eyes dart across the bricks surrounding me in the darkness. The space is so small, so stuffy, so very easily making me panic.
Calm down.
Claustrophobia chooses the worst times to claw to the surface and remind me of my helplessness.
Breathe.
I do. Deeply. The hand still clamped over my nose smells faintly of metal – sharp and strong and stinging my nose.
Blood.
I pull the shaky hand away from my face, and though I can’t see the crimson staining my fingers, I can practically feel it clinging to me. There’s still blood crusted under my cracked nails, and I don’t know whether it’s mine, the king’s, or…
I suck in a breath, trying to pull myself together. The Enforcer looms far too close to me, pacing the floor, wood groaning beneath him with each step.
Getting caught because I started sobbing would be equally as embarrassing as getting caught for sneezing.
And I refuse to do either.
At some point, the Imperials stomp back into the room beneath me. ‘No sign of her, Your Highness.’
There’s a long pause before his highness sighs. ‘Just as I thought. You’re all useless.’ His next words are sharper than the blade he flips casually in his hand. ‘Get out.’
The Imperials don’t waste a single second before scrambling towards the door and away from him. I don’t blame them.
But he’s still here, leaving nothing but silence to stretch between us. I have a hand clamped over my nose again, and the smell of blood combined with the cramped chimney has my head spinning.
Memories flood my mind – my body caked in blood, my screams as I tried to scrub it away, only managing to stain my skin a sickening red. The sight and smell of so much blood made me sick, made me think of my father bleeding out in my arms, of Adena doing the same.
Adena.
Tears prick my eyes again, forcing me to blink away the image of her lifeless body in the sandy Pit. The metallic stench of blood fills my nose, and I can’t stand to smell it, to look at it, to feel it—
Breathe.
A heavy sigh cuts through my thoughts. He sounds as tired as I feel. ‘It’s a good thing you’re not here,’ he says softly, a tone I never thought I’d hear from him again. ‘Because I still haven’t found my courage.’
And then my home bursts into flames.
CHAPTER 2 Kai
Flames lick at my heels as I leisurely make my way to the door.
Waves of heat crash into my back; wisps of smoke cling to my clothing. I step outside into the cloudy afternoon, now further polluted by the billowing clouds of smoke wafting into the sky.
My lips twitch at the look of shock on my Imperials’ faces, accompanied by the unhinged jaws they fight to clamp shut as flames consume the house behind me. Their gazes slowly flick to me, managing to reach as high as my collar before they’re shifting uncomfortably on their feet.
They still when I stride towards them with ease.
They think I’ve gone mad.
Glass shatters when a window bursts behind me, sending shards of sharp edges scattering the street. The Imperials’ flinch, covering their faces. The sight makes me smile.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I have gone mad.
Mad with worry, with rage, with betrayal.
The tension continuously coiling through my body seems to be the only constant in my life, resulting in stiffened shoulders and a clenched jaw. My fingers drum against the dagger at my side, tempting me to take out my frustration on one of the many useless Imperials.
I trace the swirling steel on the hilt, the pattern familiar beneath my fingertips. How could I forget the dagger that’s been held against my throat so many times?
How could I forget the dagger that I pulled from my father’s severed neck?
It’s been five days since I saw the hilt of this very weapon protruding from the king’s throat. Five days to grieve, and yet, I haven’t shed a single tear. Five days to prepare, and yet, no plan will truly free me from her. Five days to simply be Kitt and Kai – brothers before we became king and Enforcer.
And now her head start is up.
Though it seems that she used it wisely – took advantage of my weakness, my cowardice, my feelings for her – and ran. I spin to face the flames, watching the colorful chaos as fire consumes her home in red, orange, thick black smoke and—
Silver.
I blink, squinting through suffocating smoke at the collapsing roof. But there’s nothing there, no hint of the shimmer I saw a moment ago. I run a hand through my hair before pressing the heels of my palms against tired eyes.
Yes, I’ve truly gone mad.
‘Sir!’
I drop my hands, slowly fixing my gaze on the Imperial brave enough to shout at me. He clears his throat, likely regretting that decision. ‘I, uh, I think I saw something, Your Highness.’
He points to the flaming roof, smoke shifting as a figure stumbles through the flames. A figure with silver hair.
So she is here.
I can’t seem to decide whether I’m relieved or not.
‘Bring her to me.’
My command rings out, and the Imperials don’t miss a beat. And, apparently, neither does she. I barely catch a glimpse of her before she jumps off the edge of the crumbling roof and onto the neighboring one, legs bounding as soon as she finds her footing.
Imperials run down the street below, Brawnies and Shields rendered utterly useless as she jumps from roof to roof. I comb a hand through my hair before dragging it down my face, unsurprised by their incompetence.
I flip the knife I’d yanked from the wall in my hand before taking off down the street, quickly catching up with my Imperials. I feel each of their powers buzzing under my skin, begging to be released. But their abilities are useless to me unless I can get her on the ground, making me regret not bringing a Tele that could set her on the street before me with nothing but a thought.
She can only stay on the rooftops if she’s able to jump between them. And that’s why, with the flick of my wrist, I send the knife flying towards her.
I watch as it meets its mark, slicing through her thigh as she leaps. Her cry of pain makes me flinch, an action that is as frustrating as it is foreign to me.
She hits the flat roof hard, rolling in a feeble attempt to lessen the fall. I watch as she staggers to her feet, blood streaming down her leg. Her features are fuzzy from this distance, and I can almost pretend that she is simply a forgetful figure limping to the edge of a roof.
She’s no fool. She knows she can’t make the jump.
My gaze snaps to the Imperials’ gawking up at her. ‘Must I do everything for you?’ My voice is cold. ‘Go get her.’
But then my eyes wander back up to the roof. Empty.
Foolish of me to think she’d make this easy.
‘Find her,’ I bark, gritting my teeth against a slew of curses. The Imperials split up, sprinting in opposite directions down the streets I ensured would be practically empty for this exact reason. A thief’s ability to blend in is alarming, allowing them to get swallowed in chaos, lost in a crowd. And she would do just that if I hadn’t cleared Loot for the day.
I stride down the street, glancing into the adjacent alleys jutting off it. Muffled shouts ring out, echoing off the rundown homes and shops. I silently continue my search, feet faltering when I spot a figure slumped at the end of a shadowed alley.
My body tenses. I turn toward the silhouette, each step warier than the last. But it’s not long before recognition has my pace quickening. I crouch beside the Imperial, eyes wandering over his once white uniform, now soaked with blood. Scarlet seeps from a throwing knife buried deep in his chest, oozing over the crisp folds of his uniform.
She is a vicious little thing.
My fingers are at his throat, checking for a pulse despite knowing I won’t feel its familiar beat. I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. My whole body feels heavy with exhaustion, weighed down by my worries.
I buried someone who tried to kill her once.
Simply because I knew it was something she would have wanted. I carried Sadie’s dead body through the dark Whispers Forest during that first Trial because I knew Paedyn was falling apart when I left her to spin that ring on her thumb. If it were up to me, I would have never buried the body of someone who tried to kill her. But I wasn’t thinking of myself when I’d done it.
Death is familiar to me, both friend and foe, and far too frequent in my life. But for her, death is devastation, no matter its victim.
I imagine she’s spinning that ring on her thumb at this very moment, biting the inside of her cheek as she forces herself to run from the man she just killed rather than dig him a grave like I know she desperately wishes to.
‘She would have buried you if she weren’t so busy running from me, you know,’ I murmur to the body beside me, confirming that I have, in fact, gone mad. I lift the Imperial’s white mask from his face, giving me a better view of his glassy brown eyes before I brush his lids closed. ‘So the least I can do is bury you for her.’
I’d never given a second thought to what became of my soldier’s bodies. And yet, here I am, hauling a man over my shoulder because of a girl who despises doling out death. I grunt under the Imperial’s weight, wondering why the hell I’m even bothering with this.
What has she done to me?
His limp body swings over my shoulder with every step I take.
Will her grave be the next I dig?
Continue Reading…
Reckless
Lauren Roberts
ALSO BY LAUREN ROBERTS
Powerless
First published in Great Britain in 2024 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
Text copyright © 2024 Lauren Roberts
Cover images copyright © 2024 Bob Lea
Map 2023 © Jojo Elliott
Scroll 2024 © Jojo Elliott
Map & Scroll designed by Jojo Elliott
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Lauren Roberts to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
PB ISBN 978-1-3985-3573-2
eBook ISBN 978-1-3985-3575-6
eAudio ISBN 978-1-3985-3574-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Lauren Roberts, Powerful
