Her eyes burn like blue flames, practically scolding me with a glare. But just as I suspected, she reluctantly picks up her fork and shoves some beans into her mouth with her gaze pinned on me. I lean back in my chair, grinning. She could see it in my eyes that I would, in fact, spoon-feed her if she didn’t start eating, and there was no way in hell she was going to let that happen.
The next several minutes are filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and scattered conversations. Blair turns towards Kitt and me, talking about Plague knows what. In general, Kitt is a far better man than I am, and especially so when it comes to her. He talks casually while I offer my attention to the food in front of me instead.
Father’s voice suddenly cuts through the din of conversation. “So,” I look up to see he’s staring at Paedyn, intrigued, “this is the girl who saved you in the alley?”
Only after robbing me.
I can feel everyone’s eyes flick towards us, all listening in on the conversation. Paedyn gently drops her fork and stares at the king with so much intensity in her gaze that she briefly reminds me of Blair. There is a certain emotion clouding her eyes as she looks at him—an emotion she is trying to hide. I don’t have time to try and decipher it before she schools her features into neutrality with the blink of an eye.
“Yes, I did save his life. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?” She turns her attention toward me, her smile turning into a challenge.
“So you do know my title after all.” Sarcasm coats my words while a smile toys at the corners of my lips. “You know, I wasn’t sure. Because back in the alley you were calling me something very, very different.”
Her smile is all teeth. “I’m sure whatever I called you was warranted.” A pause. “And accurate.” A smile. “And deserved.”
Cocky bastard.
Her eyes, her smile, her tone—all of her screams the two words. Screams the title she’s bestowed upon me.
“And what was your title, again? The Silver Savior?” I huff out a quiet laugh. “Fitting. I know how much you love silvers.”
Paedyn’s cool smile falters at the meaning behind my words.
She’s annoyed. I’m amused.
Mother’s feelings clearly mirror Paedyn’s, because she shoots me a look before saying, “Thank you, Paedyn, for helping Kai. It did not go unnoticed by us, or the people, seeing that they wanted you in the Trials.” Paedyn dips her head and smiles softly at her, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
At the sound of my father’s voice, her smile wavers. “I must say, I’ve never met a Psychic before.” He looks at her curiously. “Your powers are…intriguing.”
Paedyn relaxes and laughs lightly. “Yes, well, my father said it’s a rare, yet small gift that not many Mundanes possess. I suppose the most useful part of my ability is that I’m not affected by the Silencers, as well as your son, it seems.” A strand of silver hair falls into her eyes, and she tucks it behind her ear absentmindedly as the rest of the table returns to their previous conversations, apparently bored with listening in on this one.
“Ah, yes, your father. Adam Gray was a great Healer. A very educated man,” Father says thoughtfully.
Paedyn goes rigid in her seat. “You,” she clears her throat, “you knew my father?”
“Yes, I did. He would come to the palace during fever season to help our own court physicians when there were too many patients to attend to.”
Paedyn nods. “Yes, I remember him doing that every winter.”
Their conversation is cut short when the servants pour back into the room to clear the dishes. They weave around the table, grabbing plates and silverware before disappearing back into the hallway, leaving a spotless table in their wake.
Father and Mother stand as one. “Get some rest, Elites. Your training begins tomorrow.” With the king’s final words, they turn and stroll out the grand doors.
A beat of silence passes before chairs are scraping on the marble floor, and everyone is standing to their feet. Three Imperials are heading towards the new Elites, ready to escort them back to their rooms.
I watch as a young, redheaded guard saunters up to Paedyn with a grin. And suddenly, I’m stepping between them before I can stop myself. “I’ll take it from here.”
He looks at me, confused. “Sir, I am to escort—”
“I’m aware. And I’m perfectly capable of making sure she gets to her room, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” And with that, he tips his head towards Paedyn before striding from the room.
I glance at her myself, the look of confusion on her face mirroring the boy’s. And then I turn and stroll out the doors, not waiting for her to catch up. She huffs before the quick click of her heeled boots begins echoing behind me.
“Why the sudden urge to be a gentleman?” she calls dryly from behind. I stop and spin on my heel, watching her as she walks towards me, my gaze briefly flicking over her.
“Don’t get used to it,” I say with a quick smirk. “My room just happens to be across from yours, so I might as well be a gentleman just this once.”
I shove my hands into my pockets as we begin walking again, this time with her at my side. “And why would a prince be staying in the contestant’s wing of the palace?”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I too, am a contestant in the Trials.”
She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yes, I have happened to notice. But I thought the prince was supposed to have some grand room stocked full of servants who wait on him hand and foot?” Her question is accusing, lovely words laced with venom.
“Oh, don’t worry, I have one of those too,” I reply coolly, hearing her scoff beside me. She’s only partially right. I do have a grand room, though I refuse to let servants wait on me. “All the contestants are to have the same living conditions before and during the Trials. That way, no one can accuse anyone else of being favored or having the upper hand.”
We stop outside her room where she turns to face me fully. She looks like she might laugh again, but when she speaks, her words are bitter. “Just because we are all staying in similar rooms, doesn’t mean others don’t have the upper hand.”
I’m quiet as I consider her for a moment. If I were a Mundane thrown into the Trials, pitted against some of the strongest abilities Elites can have, I don’t doubt I would feel any differently. Her power isn’t something she can wield as a weapon like the rest of us. She’s forced to rely on her own strength rather than the strength of an ability.
I suddenly think of how she fought the Silencer, so skilled and so sure of herself. Perhaps she has a better chance of surviving these games than she gives herself credit for.
I watch her gaze trail over my shoulder to the door I’m currently blocking. She opens her mouth to say something, drawing my attention to the healing split in her bottom lip.
On an impulse I couldn’t seem to ignore, my fingers catch her chin and lift her face up towards mine. She’s too stunned to move, and I take advantage of it. “I would have thought you could avoid a direct hit like this. Guess you’re not as skilled of a fighter as I thought.” I shrug and tilt her head towards the light, casually examining the angry cut in her lip.