“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know what it is like to lose a father.” I keep my eyes locked on hers, though I desperately want to glare up at the king in his shiny box.
A collective gasp echoes through the crowd, amazed that I could know such a personal detail.
And they want more.
Tealah selects person after person to come down into the Pit, each one more excited to be read than the last. I spout random and personal things about them, things that a stranger shouldn’t know.
“You just found out you are pregnant—”
“Your father is a blacksmith—”
“You stole the shoes you’re wearing—”
Every time, both the person I read and the crowd above us are in awe. They gasp, clap, and cheer—a completely captivated audience.
Plagues, if I knew people liked this so much, I would have charged for readings on the street.
A lanky young man now stands before me, a grin lighting up his face as he stares down expectantly. Closing my eyes, I recall the faint ring of dirt clinging to the right knee of his pants as he walked towards me. That, combined with the subtle outline of a small box in his coat pocket and the happy glow on his face, I come to my conclusion in a matter of seconds.
“I’m sensing joy. Because…” I release one of his hands to press my fingers to my temple. “You just got engaged. Today.” I open my eyes just in time to see his mouth fall open.
“Yes! She’s right! I just proposed less than two hours ago!” He spins to face the crowd, a wide smile on his face as the audience goes wild.
“Congratulations!” My shout is swallowed by the cheering crowd as he practically skips up the stairs to return to his seat. With that, I spin on my heel and head back to my chair, not waiting for another person to come striding down for me to read.
“Here,” Tealah sweeps an arm behind her, gesturing to us, “are your contestants for the sixth ever Purging Trials!” Her voice echoes across the stadium only to be quickly drowned out by the crowd.
The contestants around me stand, and I do the same. We wave and smile at the crowd, watching as they chant, stomp, and pump their fists in the air.
I feel sick.
I feel used.
This is all a game to them.
But if I want to stay alive, I have to play my part. I have to play them. Being a pawn in their game is the price I have to pay to survive. Make them believe I like this, and in turn, they will like me.
So I straighten, holding my head a little higher as I smile a little brighter.
I am no one’s pawn.
Chapter Sixteen
Kai
Blood clings to my hands, my clothes, staining everything a sickening red. Torturing tends to be a messy occupation, and despite how many years of practice I’ve had, it never seems to get any easier. Or cleaner.
Unlike Kitt, who has been trained since childhood to be poised, just, and kingly, my training has consisted of more hands-on work. Battle strategies, assassinations, and the art of torture made up much of my education. And due to this unique and extensive training I’ve received, I am very good at what I do.
Except, it seems, when it comes to the Silencer cowering on the dungeon floor before me. It’s been days. I’ve beaten this man to a bloody pulp, and what have I learned in return?
Nothing.
To say that I’m pissed would be an understatement. The only useful word I’ve gotten him to slip past his lips, besides the splitting screams and pleas, is what I’m assuming is his name.
Micah.
I sigh, crouching down to hover over his broken, bloody body. His long hair, matted with blood, falls into his deep brown eyes. They widen when they meet mine, making him look so young. He can’t be more than a few years my senior.
“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” I say, deceptively soft, “but I don’t believe you’re mute.” I grab his jaw and pry it open to reveal the blood pooling in his mouth, over his tongue, staining his teeth scarlet. “But I could easily make that happen. I could carve out your tongue.”
I drop his head to the stone floor and stand to leave, aware that I’m already late for dinner. Slamming the door to the cell behind me, I offer Damion a curt nod. He gives me a slow bow of his head in return before following me down the long hallway of cells.
Our footsteps echo off the stone walls as we make our way up the stairs and into the bright, sun-filled hallway above the dungeons. I deftly head to the throne room even while my mind wanders.
The Trials are quickly approaching with only four days separating us from the first deadly game. These past few days have followed the same routine of training, eating, talking, and torturing. And well, toying with Paedyn. She’s been my main source of entertainment as of late. She’s entertaining. With her wit and stubbornness and obvious annoyance with me—
Stop.
I push thoughts of Paedyn from my mind as I stride through the large doors of the throne room. My hands find their way to my pockets, casual despite how very aware I am that my navy shirt splotched with blood does not quite fit the dress code for dinner.
The servants have already brought food to the table, which everyone sitting around it is greedily enjoying. Heads turn when they hear my shoes on the polished floor, several pairs of eyes flicking from my face to the blood clinging onto my clothes. I ignore their stares, seeing that I was too tired to change and too hungry to care.
“Ah, Kai. Glad you could make it.” Father sounds peeved, per usual, as I take my seat.
“Honey,” Mother says quietly, leaning towards me, “you look a little…well, bloody.” She cringes as her eyes roam over me, assessing her son.
“Occupational hazard, Mother.” I give her a small smile, the sweet one I reserve for only her. She nods hesitantly before trying to relax back into her chair.
I barely listen to the quiet chatter carrying on around me. I’m finishing the last of my beans when an incessant tapping has me looking up.
Strands of Paedyn’s silver hair fall around her face in loose curls, the rest of it tied back into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are pinned to her plate, her thumb and silver ring tapping a steady beat against the wooden table.
And then those ocean eyes slide up to mine.
I tip my head towards her drumming thumb. “Is there something on your mind, Gray?”
She looks me over as if noticing my presence for the first time. “Is there something on your shirt, Azer?” Her eyes skim over my clothes before widening slightly. “Is that…blood?”
I’m sure I imagine the flash of worry on her face, the look of concern when she thinks it may be my own blood staining the shirt. “Careful, darling. You almost look as if you care.” I give her a lazy smile, and she gives me a lazy eye roll.
My gaze snaps to Mother when her gentle voice cuts through my thoughts. “I hope you all have begun pairing up for the first ball!”
I glance around the table. Only the three who haven’t previously lived in the castle look slightly confused. Hera, Ace, and Paedyn haven’t grown up watching these balls, haven’t even been to a ball. I envy them.
“As is tradition,” Mother continues, “the contestants will partner up for the balls that are held before each Trial. And since there is an odd number of you, whoever does not have a partner will be paired with someone, don’t worry.” Her smile somehow grows wider as she says, “So choose your date and get practicing your dance steps.”