And yet, his knife missed me.
Kai doesn’t miss. Not unless he wants to.
“What have you done to me?”
His words are almost lost in the storm, but they chill me to the bone more than the streaming rain ever could. I’ve heard those exact words fall from his lips before, when they were brushing my own. I’ve felt this rain cool my heated skin when we were inches apart. I’ve had his gray gaze on me before—when it was heavy with heat rather than hatred.
“My pretty Pae, what have you done to me?”
How can a single moment mirror another in such a morbid way? Was it only yesterday that his lips formed those words with longing, and today with loathing?
But the only similarities between last night and this moment are the fire and fortitude of feelings filling his eyes. With his mask gone, he’s unguarded, allowing me to clearly glimpse the grief gracing his features.
His hand holding the knife, ready to strike, shakes in the air. I can almost see the pieces falling together in his mind, the realization of what I am and what I’ve done snapping into place.
He cocks his arm back further, ready to bury his blade in my chest. My eyes flutter shut, and I plant my feet, accepting my fate.
I hurt. Everything hurts. Maybe I deserve this death. Maybe I even desire it—
My pitiful thoughts are interrupted by a strangled cry of frustration that has my eyes flying open. Kai’s hands are dragging through his hair, his head bowed. When his eyes finally meet mine, cutting through the rain and distance separating us, I see the battle raging within them.
He knows what he needs to do, and yet he isn’t.
Kai’s voice trembles like his hands. “I should bury this blade in your throat.”
And he could easily do it too. I have no weapons, no will, no energy to try and stop him.
My voice sounds as ragged as I feel. “Then do it.”
He’s shaking his head at me, looking just as disgusted with himself as he is with me. “I will. I should.”
He grimaces as he grips the dagger aimed right at me. Another frustrated sound tears from his throat. He runs both bloody hands through his hair, shaking his head at the ground.
“Then why can’t I do it?” Now he’s staring at the weapon in his hand, at the weapon he could easily take my life with. “Why is it that when it comes to you, I’m suddenly a coward? Why is it that when it comes to you, I suddenly care? Why is it that I can’t throw this damn knife at my father’s killer!?”
His chest is rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath. I, on the other hand, think I’ve stopped breathing altogether when he says, “I told you I was a fool for you, and it seems I was right.” His laugh is biting. “I’m a fool when it comes to you.”
The next words out of his mouth are damning yet deceptively calm. “Maybe when I rid myself of you, I’ll find my courage. So I’m giving you a head start.”
I blink at him. My feet seem to be rooted to the spot. I don’t move an inch, too shocked and startled to do anything but stare.
“At least you kept your promise. You stayed alive long enough to stab me in the back.” He laughs bitterly, remembering the attack after the first ball when I tended to his wound. “And now I promise to return the favor.” His voice strains with emotion. “Run, Paedyn. Because when I catch you, I will not miss. I will not falter. I will not make the mistake of feeling for you.”
I’m frozen, still standing in the freezing rain.
“Go!” he yells, his voice breaking. “Go before I find someone who isn’t a coward, someone who isn’t a fool, and let them bury this dagger in your back right here, right now.”
I stumble, tripping over uneven ground before turning away from him. And then I’m running again like I’ve found myself doing all day, all my life. I throw a glance over my shoulder, glimpsing Kai dropping to his knees beside the king with his eyes trained on me.
I swallow the emotions clawing their way up my throat, threatening to leak from my stinging eyes.
I don’t look back.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Kai
How could I have been so blind, so oblivious?
I’m watching her retreating form grow smaller, watching her escape me—escape a killer.
Except, I didn’t act like the one thing I was born to be.
I didn’t act like the murderer I’ve been molded into.
I let her go.
I let her go.
I look down at her dagger clenched in my fist, its sharp blade slicked with blood.
My father’s blood.
My eyes drift to his lifeless body, to the eyes staring glassily at where Paedyn must have thrown her knife from. I reach out with trembling fingers and close them, unable to stand seeing Kitt’s eyes so lifeless.
I haven’t shed a single tear.
I feel numb.
I feel shocked.
I feel betrayed.
Was anything real to her? Was it all a lie? All pretend?
I know my thoughts should be on the dead king I’m kneeling beside, but they keep wanting to wander back to her.
I could never sense her power. She was untouchable to Silencers. The Resistance didn’t lay a finger on her when they attacked.
Because she is an Ordinary.
Because she is part of the Resistance.
Well, she was. There is not much to be a part of anymore after today.
How could I not see it before?
I shake my head, already knowing the answer to that question.
Because I was blinded by everything that is her.
She killed him. She killed the king. She killed my father.
And yet I let her go.
But not for long.
I stand to my feet, looking down at the dead king before my gaze snaps back up to the speck that is her, now barely visible through the rain.
The title of Enforcer has never weighed so heavily on my shoulders.
I’ll have to find her.
And when I do, I’ll have found my courage.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Paedyn
I don’t stop running until I stumble into the woods beside the road leading home. Running is soon replaced with tripping when roots catch my ankles and rocks stub my toes. The rain hasn’t slowed its attempt to drown me yet, pelting each of my open wounds.
My finger finds its way to the gash trailing from my jaw and down my neck, tenderly following the torn and bloody path that I know will never look the same. Then my fingers fumble across my chest, stopping only when they meet the shredded skin right above my heart. I wince, and I wish it was because of the pain.
O.
I trace the jagged lines that form that single letter. That single letter that will forever scar, marring it with the memory of him and what I am.
O for Ordinary.
The brand is just as mangled as the heart barely beating beneath it.
I stagger onward, hand pressed against the O carved into my skin and every meaning behind the seemingly simple letter.
A pop of color catches my eye, bright against the dark foliage of the damp woods. My heart splinters at the sight, lungs squeezing and legs shaking. It was only yesterday that the sight made me smile, that the symbol was slid into my hair by strong hands, sure fingers.
“A forget-me-not, since you always seem to be forgetting who I am.”
I stare at the bundle of blue flowers, mocking me with the memory of stolen touches, silent promises.
Now all that’s left are shouts of revenge, steely eyes that promise no mercy, and a stolen silver dagger so dear to me, yet so likely to be the blade that’s stabbed through my heart.