Paedyn is sinking into the sand, rocking back and forth as she clutches the lifeless form of her best friend against her chest. I heard countless stories about the two of them together during the first Trial. Paedyn’s love for her friend was evident then, but now it’s written all over her face, riddled with each cry. I never imagined I would see her weep, but even the strongest among us break down, burdened and buried by grief.
I want to go to her. Want to wrap my arms around her, distract her, comfort her in the way I know I should but am unsure how. Hurt is what I know how to do, not what I know how to help.
The crowd has irrupted in cheers and chants. Blair steps farther into the circle, grinning at the gruesome act she’s committed. She’s just won this Trial and the crowd praises her for it.
It’s over.
It’s all over.
I step towards Paedyn and farther into the open ring. I glimpse Jax’s head peak out behind a wall before he Blinks several feet into the circle. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Andy staggering into the circle, fully human and coated in blood. She’s clutching her head, disoriented after finally being able to shift back. The pain from the wounds I inflicted most likely jolted her mind, allowing her to think clearly enough to turn again.
I’m close enough to Paedyn now that I can see the tears streaking down her face, trailing through the dirt and blood coating her skin. Her forehead is pressed against her friends with her eyes squeezed shut and sobs shaking her body.
The cries of the crowd are deafening as I deftly make my way to her, ready to drop to my knees and— Something about the stomping crowd shifts.
The shouts of elation and excitement turn to hideous screams of horror. I was too focused on Paedyn to hear it earlier, but now the sound crashes into me, confuses me.
I hear the shout of a panting Imperial nearby, sounding winded as though he ran here. “The tunnels! They came through the tunnels into the box!”
I swivel around, nearly as frantic as the crowd filling the stands. They are all shouting at once, trapped in their seats by black-masked figures blocking the exits from each of the stands. And with the Mute covering them, the people have no power to fight back. My eyes sweep over their scared faces before they land on the glass box where my parents and Kitt reside.
And then I see it. See them.
The Resistance.
A man is standing beside my father wearing a black mask and pressing a knife to his throat. There are other members of the Resistance in the box, surrounding the king and queen and Kitt. They are holding them almost lazily, all gripping daggers in their hands though they don’t look like they intend to use them. Which can only mean one thing.
They are Silencers.
Maybe even other Fatals.
Otherwise, my father would have torn their limbs off by now, Kitt would have lit them on fire, and Mother would have helped by electrocuting them if it weren’t for their powers being suppressed or controlled.
I can barely make out their twisted faces, grimacing with the weight of a Fatal’s power crushing them. But I know the agony all too well. The agony of everything you are being suppressed as the very power you possess is stripped away from you. I know that face they are wearing because I’ve worn it many times before.
They are being smothered by Silencers.
And then so am I.
Chapter Sixty-One
Paedyn
“Please.” I keep muttering the word, over and over again like it can bring her back to me. Like a prayer, a plea. “Please, please, please.”
I barely hear the cheering crowd over the roaring grief in my head, my heart. I clutch her against me, my forehead resting atop her soft curls. I can still smell the faintest scent of honey on her, sticking to her hair and body. She always smelled like honey. She always smelled like home.
My face feels numb, and I can no longer feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I lift her up gently, cradling her back so I can hold her closer. My blurry eyes snag on her bound hands tucked behind her back, and the sight of them sends a shuddering sob through me.
They broke her fingers.
They are bent at odd angles, bleeding, bruised. Those small and slender hands are mangled, a mockery of what they once were, of what they could do. Before death, the thing that made her feel most alive was taken from her.
Her sewing hands. Her talented fingers.
Broken.
Then they broke her.
A wave of white-hot anger sweeps through me, washing away the guilt and sorrow to replace it with searing rage.
She broke her.
Blair.
I’m going to kill her.
I blink down at Adena’s lifeless form. Even in death she is beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking. Just the sight of her so still, so silent, fans my fury, redirecting it towards another murderer.
He broke her.
The king.
He brought her here to be killed. Adena is—Adena was—no criminal. My hatred for him flares. He did this on purpose. He warned me I wouldn’t win these Trials, made sure of it. Not when I had to kill my best friend to do so.
This man has taken everything from me.
This king has killed the only family I’ve ever known. First my father, and now Adena.
Screams from the crowd finally reach my ears, pulling me out of my pathetic state for a moment. I look up to see that the walls of the maze have vanished, leaving me sitting in the center of the sandy Pit.
The other contestants are standing close by, all looking equally confused. The crowd is crazed. Elites are yelling and pointing and— “The tunnels! They came through the tunnels into the box!”
I stiffen.
They’re here.
My eyes scan the crowd for anyone familiar before landing on the glass box. Sure enough, I spot Calum leading the king out, one hand clutching a dagger to his throat while the other clutches his arm. A man I’ve never seen before, whom I can only assume is a Silencer, follows closely behind to the rail overlooking the Pit.
“—came through the tunnels!” I hear another Imperial shout through the crowd, barking out other orders along with it. But there are few guards who aren’t trapped by the Mute encased stands where members of the Resistance are blocking the exits. And the handful of Imperials that are free make no move to rush to their king’s side. They can’t. Not without fear of their leader’s throat being slit if they get to close.
For once in their life, Elites feel truly powerless.
And then I feel his eyes burning into me.
They are like green emeralds, sharp and cutting from where he meets my gaze inside the glass box. How wrong I was to think their eyes weren’t similar.
Because when his gaze pierces mine, I don’t see him. I see his father.
The future king knows this was my doing.
He knows because he showed me that tunnel and its key.
He knows because he trusted me with that information.
Kitt knows that I betrayed him.
He holds my gaze, looking so hurt, so horrified, so full of hatred. His eyes are so cold that I nearly shiver under his stare. The boy glaring down at me is devoid of every bit of warmth, every bit of charm I’ve come to know. He is cold. He is calloused. He is like this because of me.
He is his father.
I hear sand shifting beneath feet and rip my eyes away from Kitt to find four Silencers walking towards us, hands outstretched, power pressing.
Grunts echo from the contestants near me and my gaze lands on Kai only a few paces away, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. My heart constricts at the sight of him clutching his head, sinking to his knees in the sand. Blair, Jax, and Andy do the same, grimacing with the pain of their powers being silenced, smothered, subdued.