Powerful, page 9
Ellie’s silent for a long moment before nodding slowly. ‘She won’t be happy about being left in the dark.’
I smile, small and teasing as I nod towards the bathtub. ‘Same goes for your cleaning, my dear Ellie.’
Before she can splash me with water, I hurry from the room, shouting, ‘I’ll be back! I’m off to meet my boy!’
It’s an effort not to skip down the hallway in excitement. I can hardly contain my anticipation to—
I nearly run into a large figure rounding the corner.
In the midst of my sputtered apology, my eyes trail up to the green ones boring down at me. I blink, horrified by what I’ve just done, and sweep into a curtsy.
‘Your Majesty!’ I squeak. ‘I am so very sorry! I really must get better at watching where I’m going, especially in such a crowded castle where—’
A large, raised hand has the remaining words dying in my throat. My eyes flick from the palm hovering before my face to the man standing behind it.
Everything about the king is large and looming. He stands well over a foot above me, and his piercing gaze feels as though it might cleave me in half. Swallowing, I stand before him as his scrutiny sweeps over me, lingering on my messy hair and crumpled clothing.
When his silencing hand finally falls, I feel oddly stripped bare before him. ‘And who might you be?’
His voice is deep in a way that is far from comforting. I shift on my feet, attempting to sound at ease as I say, ‘I’m Adena, Your Majesty. What a pleasure it is to meet you!’
The smile he gives me is menacing at best. ‘Let’s not lie to your king, Adena. I’m likely the last person you wish to see, seeing that you’re in such a hurry to find someone else.’
My mouth opens and closes several times before words begin to fall out. ‘Oh, well, I just have a lot of work to do before the next ball and was hoping to get a head start on things. You know, picking fabric and calculating measurements—’
His hand lifts once again.
‘I haven’t seen you before,’ he says evenly. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Oh, I’m Paedyn’s seamstress.’ I say this as cheerily as I can muster. ‘She sent for me since I’ve gotten quite good at making clothes for her over the years.’
He contemplates this with narrowed eyes. ‘You are close with Paedyn, I take it?’
‘Yes, very.’ I smile, relieved to be talking about something so comforting. ‘We’ve lived in the slums together for years. So, it’s no shock that we are the best of friends!’
‘I see,’ he hums. ‘She must be very happy to have you here with her.’
I nod. ‘Oh, yes, we both are!’
‘Well, you will be happy to know that she survived this first Trial.’ His tone is dull, as if he’d been hoping for a very different outcome.
I suppress my relieved sigh. ‘Of course she did! I’d expect nothing less from Pae.’
‘Pae,’ he repeats softly, lifting the edge of his mouth in that unnerving way. ‘How sweet.’
I do my best to keep the smile on my face, even as I’m shifting uncomfortably on my feet. I’m about to attempt a quick curtsy and swift escape when he sighs. ‘Yes, how fortunate that Pae was not one of the casualties this Trial.’
I blink. ‘Um, if you don’t mind me asking – Your Majesty – who were the casualties?’
He shrugs slightly, as though these deaths mean little to him. ‘Sadie – a shame. I’m close with her father. Oh, and the Veil girl from the slums, though that was unsurprising…’
His voice fades, muffling as my ears begin to ring. My eyes fix on the wall behind him, glazing over as the gravity of his words weigh down on me.
Hera is dead.
All I can think of is Mak. Of the guilt on his face when he finds out, the agony in his voice following every word after.
‘How terrible,’ I say shakily. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’
His voice is eerily cheery. ‘Such is the Trials.’
When he says nothing else, I sink into a wobbly curtsy. ‘It was an honor meeting you, Your Majesty.’
I move to scurry past him and startle when his booming voice follows me down the hall. ‘Oh, I’m sure we will be meeting again, Adena.’
* * *
Late afternoon light paints Loot in a warm glow by the time I step onto the busy street.
I would have run the whole way here if it weren’t for my lack of endurance proving that to be difficult. But I followed the path down by the Bowl Arena with much more haste than usual.
The street is packed with shouting customers and squealing children. I push my way through as politely as possible, eyes trained on the crumbling building that houses his shop and home.
I’m not sure how I made it to his looming door, but I’m suddenly standing before it. I raise a hand to knock and—
And the door swings open.
I still at the sight of him.
He’s standing there, eyes glossy and brimming with a guilt that tells me he already knows why I’m here.
‘I felt you coming,’ he whispers, voice weak.
My eyes drift to the crumpled paper clutched in his hand, catching the familiar lettering scrawled across it.
A flyer for the Trials.
What a horrible way to find out.
Tears well in my eyes as I take a step towards him. ‘Oh, Mak…’
His composure crumples before his body suddenly crashes into mine.
He slumps against me, shoulders shaking as I wrap my arms tightly round him. The flyer showcasing Hera’s death flutters to the ground, forgotten in the wave of emotions threatening to drown him. His body shudders against mine, limbs limply draped round me.
‘She’s gone,’ he chokes out. ‘She’s gone, and it’s all my fault.’
Sniffling, I whisper, ‘No, it’s not. Don’t you go thinking this is your fault.’
Sobs rack his body, shaking the two of us where we stand in the doorway. ‘It should have been me.’ His arms clutch my waist, holding onto me for support. ‘It should have been me.’
‘Shh.’ I run a hand down the back of his hair, feeling hot tears slip from my eyes. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’
‘Dena.’ His voice is a whisper, a guilty confession. ‘It should have been me. I wish it was me.’
‘Don’t say that.’ I squeeze him tighter, feeling his body shake with each breath. ‘I need you.’
‘Don’t,’ he murmurs against my hair. ‘I’ll only disappoint you.’
CHAPTER 14 Adena
Over the next several days, it is a personal goal of mine to see Mak smile.
This task is most definitely not for the faint of heart. But it’s rewarding in a way that keeps me searching for any sign of even the slightest smile.
And that is what has led us to tonight’s activity.
‘This is bullshit.’
And someone is not very enthusiastic about it.
‘Wow, you were not kidding.’ I smother my laugh with a hand before forcing enough composure to continue. ‘You really can’t skip.’
‘I’m done,’ he huffs, heading for his door to abandon the alley we are practicing in. ‘I’ve lived this long without being able to do it.’
‘Come on!’ I chase after him, grabbing an arm to slow him. ‘Just a little more practice and you’ll have it. This will take your mind off things.’
He spins, his face accusing. ‘Did you need to practice?’
‘Well… No, but—’
‘See, you’re a natural at this happy, girly shit.’ He shakes his head. ‘I – as shocking as it may seem – am not.’
‘Right,’ I lower my voice, forcing it to sound gruff, ‘you’re all brooding and rough with your sharp knives and lack of smiles.’
He crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Oh, is that what I’m like?’
‘And what you sound like.’ I smile. ‘Sort of.’
‘Fine.’ He gives me that sarcastic smile, though his eyes are still clouded with the sorrow of losing Hera. ‘Well, you are all giggles and perpetual happiness with your bows and other frilly… things.’
I nod slowly, stepping towards him. ‘And do you like that about me?’
He doesn’t need a moment to ponder. ‘Among several other things.’
‘Good,’ I say simply, placing a hand on my hip. ‘Because I’m not changing. I like my frilly, girly things.’
‘Oh, I know.’
‘See, I’m a—’
‘Lover not a fighter,’ he finishes for me.
I beam. ‘Exactly. Which is why punching that guy in the face a while ago was the absolute last thing I wished to be doing.’
Mak shrugs. ‘He deserved it. And you needed the practice.’
That moment comes rushing back to me after being buried by the shock of everything that came after. The man’s black eye and visible fear at the sight of Mak. The pain shooting down my arm when my fist connected with his face – a feeling I never wish to experience again.
But when I’m suddenly reminded of Mak’s words to the man, my curiosity has me asking once again, ‘Speaking of that day, how did you know that man was lying when he said he didn’t recognize me?’
‘Dena, we’ve been over this,’ he exhales. ‘I just know.’
‘How?’ I urge.
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘Don’t make me scold you, Makoto Khitan,’ I warn with a wag of my finger.
‘Fine.’ He closes the distance between us easily. ‘I know because I ensured he would never forget what you looked like. Ensured that he would know exactly who you are and never take a step towards you.’ He takes a breath, his face close. ‘Except that he did. And I failed.’
I shake my head, mouth hanging ridiculously open. ‘W-What? What do you mean you ensured he would never forget what I looked like?’
He’s silent for a long moment before murmuring a string of words that have me further gawking. ‘I made him, and every other man I found, memorize every one of your features. I described the color of your eyes and the length of the lashes lining them. The warmth of your skin, and the specific curl of your hair. Your nose, your lips, your smile. Down to the very scar on your palm from one of my daggers, I made them memorize you. So, yes, he knew exactly who you were and still decided to ignore my threats.’
Silence stretches between us as I stare up at him.
His expression warms at the sight of mine, though I don’t miss the sadness behind his gaze. Even in the midst of mourning, he manages to muster the beginning of a smile. ‘I didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless.’
‘I just…’ I shake my head, trying to find the words. ‘I just can’t believe you would do all that for me.’ He smiles slightly as I continue, ‘And yet, you refuse to learn how to skip.’
With that, he’s pushing me away with a palm to the forehead. I beam, happy to be his distraction. His bright spot within the bleak.
‘I would argue that nothing I could do for you would top this humiliation,’ he says dryly.
My giggle follows him to the end of the alley.
And I clap when he resumes his attempted skipping.
CHAPTER 15 Makoto
‘What did I say about sleeping in this shithole?’
She smiles, folding her long legs beneath her, looking impossibly comfortable atop the scratchy rugs behind the Fort. ‘Um, that you loved it and would be happy to stay again if it meant spending more time with me?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Those words certainly didn’t come out of my mouth, but I can’t argue with that last part.’
She flashes one of those smiles at me, the type that makes it hard to look away. ‘Good. Because I decided that we should visit the Fort on the night of each ball.’ She tears off a piece of sweet dough from the sticky bun I surprised her with. ‘Call it superstition, but we were here the night of the first ball, and Paedyn is still alive and well. So I plan on continuing our tradition.’
Hera isn’t.
Ignoring that thought, just as I have been every day, I say slowly, ‘Well, a visit implies that I won’t have to sleep here, so…’
‘Oh, yes you will!’ she huffs. ‘It wasn’t that bad last time.’
‘My back is still sore.’
‘It’s been a week!’
I falter at the realization.
It’s been a week.
A week since I tore that flyer from a crumbling wall, skimming it over to find that Hera was stabbed to death in the first Trial.
A week since I wept in Adena’s arms. Felt her soothing touches. Voiced my guilt, my regret, my fears.
A week since I began mourning the loss of her.
But I’ve cried enough, drowned the pain in my tears. It all feels dull now, though the memory of her is anything but. I’m tired of the tears, the constant state of despair. Hera would scold me for hurting so much at the loss of her. She would quietly tell me to pull myself together, just as she had so many times over the years.
So, here I am, attempting to do just that. Though I’ve had quite the distraction to keep me company.
‘Fine,’ I say, accepting Adena’s offer. ‘The Fort it is. Thank the Plague I only have to do this one more time after tonight.’
‘Great!’ She squeals slightly, giddy at my agreement. ‘And before I know it, Pae will be back to keep me company.’
Before I can offer my sarcasm, she’s speaking again. ‘Oh, that reminds me! We need to redecorate before she gets home!’
She frowns at the blank look on my face. I gesture around us. ‘Sure, knock yourself out, honey.’
‘Makoto,’ she says sternly. The sound of my full name falling from her lips has my own quirking. ‘It will only take a minute. Come on, up you go.’
After begrudgingly climbing to my feet, I discover that it would not, in fact, take a minute. Adena has me securing yarn on either side of the alley walls, stretching it over the length of the Fort. She then proceeds to stitch squares of fabric across it, creating a colorful banner she likes to call ‘festive but not seeming too shocked that she survived’.
It wasn’t long before I was being forced to rearrange the assortment of garbage they sleep behind, organizing the barrier in a ‘more appealing manner’, or so she believes. With finishing touches that include a seemingly new blanket and a single pillow to share, I’m finally allowed to take a seat.
‘See!’ Adena claps her hands from where she admires the slightly less shitty sleeping arrangement. ‘So much better. Pae will be so shocked.’
I bite into the sticky bun, my tone mocking as I mutter, ‘Yes, nothing says “welcome home” like a newly arranged pile of garbage.’
She puts a hand on her hip. ‘This pile of garbage is all I’ve got.’
‘I thought you had me?’
Her eyes flutter in a way that makes me wonder how to get her to do it again. ‘Do I?’
I swallow, forcing the feeble words from my mouth. ‘So long as you’ll take me.’
‘And if I don’t?’ she asks softly.
‘Then no one ever will.’
Her eyes wander over me, and I can’t say I dislike the feel of it. After clearing her throat and looking away timidly, she walks towards the barrier before phasing right through it.
Our shoulders brush when she sits beside me, and I tense at the feel of it. Not because I don’t want her, but because I’m so unused to someone wanting me. Choosing me. Finding me worth the effort.
Because I’m completely undeserving of it. Of her. If darkness is the absence of light, then that is what I am when she is not around. And I wonder how I’ve stumbled this long without her to guide me.
‘What is it like?’ Her question unexpectedly forces me from my thoughts. ‘Having all that power?’
I don’t even hesitate. ‘Lonely.’
‘Because no one knows about you?’
I nod. ‘And I know about everyone else.’
‘Everyone is told that Kai is the most powerful Elite in decades,’ she says softly. ‘And yet, here you are, sharing his power and living in the slums.’
‘Hiding in the slums,’ I spit bitterly.
She sighs, sounding shockingly frustrated. ‘Do you really think the king would kill you if he knew you were a Wielder?’
‘I think he would see me as nothing but a threat to him,’ I say dully. ‘Just like the Fatals. He only kept one of each and now has a Wielder who happens to be a son he can control.’
She studies me as though I’m one of her rows of stitches. ‘You two seem oddly similar. In more ways than just ability.’
‘Well, he’s done a lot of shit. And I’m just pretty shitty.’ I take another bite of honey-drenched dough. ‘I’m sure we’d be the best of friends under different circumstances.’
Her responding hum tells me she agrees. And, apparently, that is the only answer she cares to offer. She’s suddenly very distracted by the trail of curls falling across her shoulders, and, now, so am I. What did I say to her about them? Ah, yes. Something profoundly akin to them being bouncy.
What a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. As if I don’t admire the shine of each ringlet, or the way they cling to one another in an intertwining hug. As if I can’t stop myself from staring at the column of her neck when she pulls that curly hair into a messy knot, the forgotten strands like swirling ink down her back.
As if I can stop myself from admiring how easily a laugh parts her soft lips. The way the sun warms her skin, as though she was meant to be cloaked in light. It’s how joy bubbles out of her in the form of clapping hands and endearing rambles. It’s the way my thoughts never cease to wander towards her, my heart falling senselessly after.
And I fear that I’ve admired every inch of her.
‘I have something for you.’
She follows this admission with a soft giggle that is equally uneasy and intoxicating. Leaning back on my forearms, I voice my wishful thinking. ‘I do hope it’s a bed.’
‘Nope,’ she answers far too cheerily. ‘Even better. I hope.’
