Finally, my gaze trails to the two tall figures striding at the front of the group. Kitt and Kai chuckle quietly, a seemingly common occurrence when the two of them are together. Once again, the future king blends in with the contestants, making me briefly wonder if he wishes he was a part of these twisted Trials.
Blair wedges herself between the two brothers, laughing at something one of them said. Both her lilac hair and shimmery navy dress gleam in the sun, giving the illusion of a constant spotlight following her. She uses any excuse to touch the boys, making her anything but subtle. She knows what she wants, and it’s clear that it is one of them. I almost admire her resilience.
I walk quietly while watching the pink petals fall from the trees, drifting to the ground on a gentle breeze—
“I see you found something to wear.”
The deep voice beside me makes me jump, and I curse under my breath at the sudden sight of the future king beside me. He’s chuckling at the stunned look on my face, and I fight the urge to shove him for startling me like that. I take a deep breath before meeting his green gaze, the color matching the leaves hanging above us—matching the color of his father’s eyes.
The king’s eyes.
The sudden realization has me faltering. I force myself to swallow my disgust towards this man and the corrupt kingdom he will rule in his father’s likeness. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to be civil, polite.
Play the part.
“Yes, but I can’t take all the credit.” I look down at my light blue dress, billowing in the soft breeze. “I have Ellie to thank for this.”
“Ah, yes.” The future king’s grin is teasing, startling me. “Ellie, the maid you insisted you didn’t need?”
“That’s the one,” I reply dryly. “You know, I thought she liked me, but it seems she wants to torture me with these shoes.” I can already feel my feet beginning to blister in the too-tight, strappy saddles Ellie insisted I wear.
He laughs again, a bright and contagious sound that manages to make me uneasy. “I don’t envy you or the blisters you’ll likely have.” A small smile curves his lips as he gestures to me. “But it suits you nonetheless.”
“Thank you…” The words come out sounding more like a question than I intended.
I always assumed the future king would be cold, calculating—more like his brother at the very least. But Kitt seems to be quite the opposite, which confuses me, considering who his father is and what his future holds.
Lost in thought, I look up to see the giant silhouette of the Bowl looming closer, awaiting us at the end of the tree tunnel. It’s enormous. Other than the castle, I’ve never seen a structure so large.
I feel something land on top of my head and practically jump out of my skin. Kitt barks out a laugh as he reaches over and plucks the thing from my hair, making me flinch. The action doesn’t go unnoticed, and his brows crinkle with concern.
I’m not playing the part very well.
Wiping my face of the anxiety I’m sure is written all over it, I try to manage a weak smile as I stare down at the pink flower he now twirls between his fingers. I glance up, catching sight of several petals clinging to Kitt’s messy hair.
“You know,” he says softly, plopping the flower back on top of my head, “this also suits you.”
I take a deep breath and force a stronger smile. “I could say the same about you,” I say, pointing at his blond hair full of petals. He returns my grin as he runs a hand through it, doing little to rid his hair of the flowers creating a crown atop his head.
“Well, now we’re matching,” he says simply, his eyes watchful. I look away, still feeling his gaze roaming over my face as I try my hardest to look calm, collected.
“You look…” He pauses, trying to find the right word. “Anxious.”
So much for calm and collected.
I offer him a quick smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Well, let’s hope anxiety suits me as well.”
“Is it the interviews that have you nervous, or is it something else?” His words are soft, curious.
Concerning.
My gaze slides to his before quickly looking away at the sight of the king’s eyes staring back at me. “Just the interviews, and the possibility that I’ll make a fool out of myself.”
“You’ll be fine. Especially after your…incident with my brother in Loot.” He gives me that charming grin of his. “You know the people are still talking about you.”
I’m about to respond when my face is suddenly bathed in sunlight. I hadn’t realized the tunnel of trees had ended, leaving me blinking rapidly in the blinding light.
But the sun is gone as quickly as it came. The group quiets when we step into the shadow cast by the Bowl. We make our way into one of the many large, cement tunnels leading into the arena, our footsteps echoing off cold stone walls until we are spit out onto the lowest level of the stadium.
My head swivels back and forth, eyes wide as I take it all in. Wrapping around the entire oval arena are dozens of wide rows covered in concrete benches that climb up the side of the Bowl. My eyes sweep over the thick glass encasing each section of the stands.
No, not glass.
Mute.
I’ve only briefly learned of the rare material invented by the Scholars, let alone seen it myself. By means that are far too complicated for me to understand, this glass look-alike prevents the Elites within the stands from using their powers, so as not to interfere with the Trials.
I tear my eyes away from the odd phenomenon and continue perusing the Bowl with my wide gaze. Though we stand at ground level beside the bottom row of benches, the sand-packed arena lies below us. I walk over to the thick, metal railing at the edge of the path and look down. It’s easily a fifteen-foot drop to the arena floor below us, packed with sand.
The Pit.
And that is where the Trials will take place while hundreds of Ilyans watch from the stands encircling us.
The Imperials begin herding us along the path until we come to a stop beside a wide room jutting out into the pathway, surrounded by thick glass. Peering inside, I can see three large and luxurious chairs, all sitting on a polished wood floor and looking so at odds with the gray, cold concrete covering the rest of the Bowl.
The king’s box.
So this is where he sits comfortably and watches us die.
To my surprise, the Imperials begin pushing us into the glass room, one by one. We all file into a line and watch as Kai strides to the far corner. I crane my neck to see him lift a hidden latch from the floor, swinging open a trap door before jumping down easily.
A hand on my shoulder urges me forward.
Where are we going?
I walk through the stuffy room and make my way to the hole in the floor that awaits me. The room beneath is cast in shadows, making it impossible to see how far down the floor is.
I sigh before stepping off the edge and into the darkness.
My feet hit the ground with a soft thud. After estimating that the drop was nearly seven feet, I’m thankful that the ground beneath my sandals is plush. But with the shifting mat beneath me and my bent knees to lessen the impact of the drop, I can’t help but stumble forward into something solid.
No. Not something. Someone.
Strong arms wrap around me before I feel the rumble of deep laughter coming from the broad chest I slammed into. Large hands are placed firmly on my hips and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can just make out the familiar curve of a smirk on Kai’s lips as he looks down at me.