This is going to make the Trials far more difficult. Now, I’ll not only be protecting myself, but also a little brother who nearly faints at the sight of blood.
But we say nothing to discourage Jax, pasting on smiles to replace the frowns pulling at our faces. Competing in the Trials is a high honor that only few are granted, and Jax deserves to celebrate despite our sudden stress over the situation.
“Well, it looks like we are all rivals now,” Blair says with a smirk, letting her words sink in. Not a very sly way to inform us that both herself and Sadie will also be competing.
We all stare at each other, Sadie silent and Blair smirking. Kitt clears his throat, cutting into the conversation. “Do you know who else is competing?”
Sadie nods, pulling a crinkled flier from one of her pockets. Kitt skims the names quickly before sighing. “Yep. There are only three names I don’t recognize. Must be Defensive or Mundanes from the city.”
He hands me the flier, and I quickly scan the list.
My eyes snag on a particular arrangement of letters before my breath snags in my throat.
There, at the bottom of the list, lies a name I’ve thought of far more than I care to admit.
It’s her.
Chapter Ten
Paedyn
I might have stood there for hours, gawking up at the banner displaying my name in giant letters, if not for the mass of people gawking at me.
They chose me.
Or in other words, they chose me to die.
And all because I saved that prick of a prince.
A tap on my shoulder shakes me from my stupor.
I stiffen at the sudden smell of starch and heave a sigh before turning slowly to face the Imperial. He’s young. My eyes flick between his messy red hair and brown eyes boring into mine, completely unbothered by my obvious disdain for his kind. He offers me a small, shy smile.
Unsettling.
In all my years, I have never met a kind Imperial, and I doubt he is the exception.
“You’re Paedyn Gray, correct?” He gestures to the sign above us with a wave of his hand.
“Who wants to know?” I blurt.
“Er,” he rubs the back of his neck, “the king? I’m here to escort you to the palace where you will be staying until the Trials are over.”
The unspoken words hang in the air between us. Or until you die.
“Now? Right now?” I hate how high and breathless my voice sounds, but I can’t stop the panic rising up my throat. “But the Trials don’t begin for another two weeks.”
He almost looks apologetic, and I hate it. “The contestants always head to the palace two weeks in advance for training, interviews, and of course, the first ball.”
How could I forget how showy the Trials are?
His head whips around, red hair rippling like flames as he searches to see if anyone is watching. Then he leans in slightly, his next words a murmur. “I can only give you about…hmm, five minutes or so before we have to leave.”
I don’t hesitate before bounding down the street as fast as my legs can carry me.
Adena.
I skid to a stop in front of our little alley and swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of her tucked behind the Fort, humming while she sews. I take it all in as I stride towards her. Every piece of garbage we scavenged together to keep us warm at night. Every scrap of clothing piled beside her as she works. Every curly piece of hair escaping the messy bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark brows furrowed over hazel eyes in concentration.
Will I ever see her again?
I try to push the thought from my head as I sink to the ground and pull her into a crushing hug. She gasps in surprise before quickly discarding her work and squeezing me tight. “Happy to see you too?” She laughs into my hair and pulls away, concerned by my sudden show of affection. “Are you…okay?”
I meet her eyes, memorizing the specks of gold flecking them. “I’m leaving, A.”
“W-what?” The look on her face is equally scared and skeptical.
“They are sending me into the Trials. The people want me there, apparently.” I’m rambling. “For entertainment purposes, of course.” I offer her a weak smile, but nothing can stop the look of horror from spreading across her face.
She brings a soft, brown hand to her mouth as she breathes, “Oh, Pae…” She trails off, not knowing what to say, what to do. “But you…You don’t have an ability—”
“It’s gonna be alright,” I say, trying to convince her as well as myself. “I’ll be—”
“Don’t you dare say you’ll be fine,” she huffs as anger temporarily swallows her fear. “Pae, the Trials are deadly enough, but if they find out about what you aren’t they will—”
“Kill me,” I finish for her. “I know.” The fear floods back into Adena’s eyes, crashing into her so hard I worry she may crumble. A sad, small smile lifts my lips as I take her in. I’m leaving the only person who knows me, the only person I can truly trust. She’s been a constant in my life, an anchor that I’ll be drifting without.
But this is for the best. It’s safer for her without me here.
“I can do this,” I say softly. “I was made to do this.”
Adena nods numbly, knowing this already. Knowing how my father began training me when it became apparent to him that his little girl was an Ordinary doomed for death.
She knows how at the age of five, my life changed before it had even begun. Father sat me on his lap, whispered that I was different, that I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t if I wanted to grow up with him by my side. It was our own little game, he said. A game of pretend. A game in which he’d already chosen the perfect role for me to play for the rest of my life.
“What’s a Psychich daddy?” That question is still so vivid in my mind, though it was over thirteen years ago when I’d asked it.
Father had just chuckled softly, a seemingly simple sound that I wish I could have memorized. “A Psychic, Paedy, is a fancy word for someone who’s observant. A power that can be faked with years of practice. Something you don’t have to be gifted with, but a skill you can learn.” At that, he’d bopped the tip of my nose with his finger. “And I’m going to teach you. That way, we can always be together.”
If only death had any regard for promises.
I’m suddenly pulled into another suffocating hug. “Come home to me, Pae. Please?” Adena’s voice is muffled against my hair. “You’re all I have left, you know.”
I wish more than anything that those words weren’t so terrifyingly true.
When Adena’s mother fell ill, it was likely my father who tried to treat her. Healers are uncommon around the slums, and the people needed him as much as they loved him. But even Elites have their limits, while it seems Death knows no bounds. And since Adena never knew her father, he could have been the hazel-eyed merchant I robbed this morning for all we know.
A pained laugh slips past my lips. “And you are all I have left, A.”
“Good.” She sniffs and pulls back to look at me. “Then you better find a way to make it back to me. If anyone from around here can make it out of those bloody Trials, it’s you.” The look she gives me defiantly determined. “At worst, you lose and come home. At best, you win the damn thing.”