His voice is flat. “Because I told you to.”
“And that is supposed to mean something to me?”
I am playing a very, very dangerous game.
He cracks a smile. “Fine.” And then he’s suddenly stepping behind me, muttering, “Stubborn, little thing.”
Rough fingers brush against the nape of my neck.
My breath catches as he casually pulls my hair into his hands, combing the strands out of my face and away from my bloody ear. “What are you—？” I stop short, feeling the pattern he’s gently weaving. “Are you…braiding my hair?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asks simply, unaware that my mouth is hanging open in shock. His voice is full of that cocky challenge as he says, “What, do you need me to teach you how to?”
“No, I don’t need you to teach—” I pause, taking a breath. “How do you even know how to braid?”
He huffs out a laugh that stirs the hair at the back of my neck. “You say that like it’s supposed to be difficult.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and the brush of his fingers traveling farther down my back has me stilling. I clear my throat. “I thought you told me not to get used to you being a gentleman?”
I can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “And I still stand by that statement.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He heaves a sigh. Fingers fall to my arm, and I almost jump at the sudden skim of his calluses. They stop on the strap wrapped around my wrist before slipping it off to begin securing my hair.
“There,” he says, stepping around to stand in front of me as he flicks the long braid over my shoulder. Then he gives it a tug, admiring his handiwork with a smile that displays his dimples.
I look down at the braid and stifle a snort at the sight of several strands sticking out. “I thought this wasn’t difficult for you?” I laugh as I say, “You do know that all of the hair is supposed to make it into the braid, correct?”
“Odd way to say thank you, but I suppose that is the best I’ll get from you.” He leans in closer, lips lifted into a mocking grin. “Perhaps if you won’t let me teach you how to braid, you’ll consider letting me teach you some manners.”
I nearly choke on my scoff at the thought of the future Enforcer teaching me manners. His eyes skim over my ear before he takes a step away, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You should get that healed up before the interviews tomorrow,” he says casually, nodding to my wound. “We wouldn’t want Blair’s mark on you to scar.”
The sudden bite in those words has me stunned for a moment as I study him in the growing silence. “No,” I finally manage, “we wouldn’t want that.”
His gaze sweeps over me again before he turns, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “Good luck tomorrow, Gray.”
I don’t bother fighting my smile. “If I had any manners, I would wish you luck as well, prince. But you already informed me that I don’t.”
He laughs, and the sound snakes down my spine as he continues to stride away. Without him to distract me, my ear stings furiously as I begin my trek back to the castle with one thought occupying me.
He never answered my question.
Chapter Fourteen
Paedyn
The cool steel of my father’s ring does little to comfort me as I spin it on my thumb.
Gentle fingers are gliding through my hair, pinning and pulling at the messy strands. Between Ellie’s soothing touches and the plush vanity bench I’m currently slumped on, my drooping eyelids threaten to pull me back into restless sleep despite my reeling mind. Ellie must see the worry and weariness written all over my face because she offers me a sympathetic smile in the mirror. “How are you feeling? You know, about the interviews?”
The constant spinning of my ring never slows though my nerves never calm. “Well, I have no idea what to expect. And if it goes poorly…” I trail off as Ellie nods at me in the mirror, not needing me to finish that thought.
“Don’t overthink it. You’ll be fine,” she assures while continuing to pin up my hair. “Besides, the people can’t stop talking about the Silver Savior.”
The Silver Savior.
I nearly laugh at the name I’ve been bestowed. If they really knew why I was able to stop the Silencer, they wouldn’t be calling me a savior anymore. In fact, they wouldn’t be calling me anything, because I would just become another dead Ordinary who doesn’t deserve a name, a title, a memory.
An elegant low bun sits at the nape of my neck when Ellie finishes, sparkling pins holding it in place while silver ringlets surround my powdered face and darkened lashes.
After much deliberation, we settle on a sleeveless, light blue dress. Elegant, but not too flashy. “You’ll want to make a good impression, and I think this one will do the trick,” Ellie says with a smile. As soon as I’ve slipped into it, I’m being dragged over to the mirror so Ellie can admire her handiwork. Between the hair, makeup, and blue gown hugging my body, I almost look like I belong here. Like I haven’t been sleeping on the streets for the past five years of my life.
A knock on the door startles me enough to stop staring at my reflection. “You ready in there?”
Lenny is waiting outside the door when Ellie pushes me into the hallway, sneaking a shy glance at him before retreating into my room. He gives me an easy smile before leading us back to the main, massive doors of the castle and into the sunbathed courtyard beyond.
We’re not alone. Most of the other contestants are tensely milling about while the rest slowly file out of the castle. Soon, Imperials are shuffling by, joining the group of us standing idly.
“What’s going on?” I breathe to Lenny, still standing beside me.
“We,” he gestures to his fellow Imperials, “are escorting you all to the Bowl.”
My eyes drift to the looming structure sitting innocently nearby. I’d never been to any of the contestant’s interviews before, so I’ve never had the pleasure of packing into the arena stands alongside thousands of other Ilyans. It’s been granted its unoriginal name due to the sloping, bowl-like shape of the large stadium that I never thought I’d step foot in.
The group sets an easy pace as we make our way to the Bowl, Imperials flanking us on all sides. It’s less than a mile from the palace, and I’m completely content to study my surroundings as we walk the gravel path. Twisted, drooping trees loom over us, oddly enchanting with the way the sun streams through their leaves to cast the ground beneath them in dappled light. Vibrant white and light pink flowers dot the branches while several of them flutter down, scattering the path with petals.
I let myself fall to the back of the group, watching my competition as they stride in front of me. All the boys wear some variation of slim pants and colored button-downs while the girls wear sleek but simple dresses.
Braxton and Sadie speak in hushed tones with hesitant smiles, while Andy keeps sticking out her foot to catch Jax’s ankle, sending him stumbling while she snickers. My eyes sweep to Hera, quiet as she looks around in awe at the tunnel of trees enclosing the path. Ace, on the other hand, has his nose so high in the air that I doubt he can even see what’s in front of him.