Lenny opens the door of the coach and both Adena and I settle in before we are rumbling up the uneven cobblestone street, heading for the palace.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Adena says, in awe as she looks out the tiny window. She turns back to me, taking in the casual dress Ellie forced me into with wide eyes. “I can’t believe this.” She looks from my face to the dress before snatching up the hem of the skirt and inspecting it.
“Don’t get used to…this.” I gesture to the dress. “I typically wear pants during the day, but Ellie insisted I wear a dress to make a good impression on the people who saw me at Loot.”
And there certainly were a lot of people. Despite how early it was, the marketplace was teeming with men, women, and children, all gawking at me as I passed.
I’m not sure what impression I made on them, but I certainly made one, nonetheless.
“It sounds like Ellie and I will get along perfectly,” Adena says, her smile bright.
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” I laugh before continuing, “And you will be paid, fed, and have a real bed to sleep in at night. I’m told there is a sewing room where you will spend most of your time, filled with every type of fabric you could ever dream of.”
Adena’s eyes go glossy at the thought. “Heaven. I’ll be in heaven.”
I fill her in on everything—the training, the interviews, the contestants. She does the same, telling me of her time in Loot while I’ve been gone.
“I was beginning to think you forgot about me!” Adena says with a laugh, dismissing the idea. “And now, here you are, taking me back with you!”
A wave of guilt slams into me, threatening to drown.
I swallow before opening my mouth to plead for forgiveness, to tell her I’m sorry, to—
“I could never forget about you, A.”
Never again.
She beams while my heart beats wildly against my chest. She’s so very good, and I am so very guilty. I’m weak for withholding the truth from her, but with each beat of my heart, I vow to never do it again.
“Oh, wait! Who are you going to the ball with?” Adena’s high-pitched question cuts through my confused thoughts.
Of course Adena would know that detail of the Trials, how we all have to pair up for the balls. She loves this sort of stuff. I run a hand through my hair, combing it out of my face. “Well…I’m going with Kitt.”
Adena blinks. And then she shrieks.
“Kitt? You mean, the heir?” She’s practically hyperventilating, fanning herself with her hands.
“It’s not a big deal, A. Except that I do need to look good,” I say, trying to calm her down.
“Well then you came to the right girl,” she says confidently. “Wow, okay, you have to look really good then.” She swipes at the curly bangs falling into her eyes. “Well, there are several beautiful shades of green we could choose from. We could put you in an emerald, or a sage—”
I hold a hand up, a smile curving my lips. “Actually, I have a different color in mind.”
Chapter Twenty
Kai
I’m standing in a sea of black. Black suit coats, black ties, black shoes. Like ink, the men filling the ballroom swirl around on the white marble floors, words hastily scribbled on a piece of glossy parchment.
Servants dance around the room, though they have no music to accompany them as they weave through the crowd. They make their laps, bringing wine, champagne, and extravagant finger foods on even more extravagant plates.
Seeing that the Trials are different this year—thanks to me and the testing of the future Enforcer—it no surprise that the balls would be out of the ordinary as well. Typically, the Trial’s balls are just that: balls. They consist of far too many hours of dancing and tedious small talk, both of which require excessive amounts of alcohol to get through.
But this Trial’s first ball begins with a banquet.
Black-clad bodies dot the room, men of all ages milling about. That is, men of all ages who are either nobility, of royal blood, or have somehow managed to get an invite to the Purging Trials first ball.
After an hour of hopping between throngs of men, making idle conversation with both young and old, friend and foe, I’m restless and bored at best. Kitt and I have retired to reside by one of the many beautiful tables bordering the ballroom, brimming with drinks.
I’ve passed the time by admiring my favorite room of the castle, taking it in for the hundredth time. Its marble columns and large, ceiling-to-floor windows line the room, giving it an ethereal look. Chandeliers droop from the ceiling, dripping with diamonds and elegance. Two sets of emerald-padded staircases mirror each other as they descend to the marble floor from the balcony high above. Golden, detailed doors open onto the half-circle platform overlooking the ballroom floor, which is so shiny I can see my own bored reflection in it.
I sip at my second glass of wine, wishing I had something stronger.
Any minute now.
The small orchestra seated in the far corner of the elegant ballroom strums to life just as the glistening doors at the top of the balcony swing open. A beautiful woman cocooned in silky emerald steps up to the railing and looks down at the floor beneath her.
Mother.
She beams, practically glowing. Then she begins gracefully descending the staircase to her right with measured, light steps. Sometimes I forget that even she is a fighter with her Volt ability to manipulate electricity that can easily be used in deadly ways if she wished.
The click of her heels sounds against the marble floor as she makes her way across the ballroom. The men part, creating a path for her as she heads for my father seated at the far end of the room.
He smiles—really smiles at her. It’s a rare expression for him, one that he only seems to wear when she is around. He stands, meeting her in the middle of the room before taking her arm.
The king looks around, eying the men eying him. “Let the first ball of the Purging Trials begin!” The men cheer as the king and queen walk together, talking and welcoming those they pass.
And so it begins.
Women, both young and old begin filing through those golden doors, one at a time. As is tradition, the men always enter the ballroom first and wait for the women to arrive, in honor of the queen who appeared fashionably late to the ball where she first met Father, every eye on her as she made her entrance. Since then, every woman has been given the opportunity to make their arrival for all to watch and admire.
Dozens of them descend the staircases, all varying in different shades of green. As soon as they reach the floor, their dates whisk them away and take a seat at one of the many tables that litter the far side of the ballroom.
Kitt and I watch the parade of women as we sip our wine, admiring from a distance. They come in no particular order, no ranking or status involved in who gets to walk through the door next. I watch as my cousin sweeps in, wearing a mint green dress that contrasts her wine-red hair. Andy smiles at Jax from where he waits for her at the bottom of the stairs, a goofy grin on his face. She pulls him toward the large table meant for the contestants, centered among the others to allow the guests a perfect view of us. A dinner and show.
I watch them take a seat before turning my attention back to the balcony, finding the steady stream of women beginning to slow. I spot Hera and Ace making their way through the crowd, neither of them looking particularly happy to be paired with one another. My eyes dart back up to the doors when Sadie enters, her brown skin glistening against her light green dress as she walks down the steps to an awaiting Braxton.