Like the eyes of a murderer. The eyes of the king.
“Talk to me.” The words tumble out of my mouth, sounding more like an order than I intended. So I quickly add, “Please.”
He sighs and ducks his head before gently grabbing my wrists and lowering them from his face. Then, he guides me towards the least crowded corner in the room, his warm hands pulling me to the floor beside him before resting his arms on his raised knees. “I’m sorry that I’m so…flustered,” Kitt finally says. I’ve never seen him so serious, so stern, so kingly. “I don’t like people fighting my battles.” He bites out the words like he hates the taste of them in his mouth.
“I guess that is something you will have to get used to when you’re king,” I say softly.
He scoffs. “You mean, get used to my brother constantly risking his life while I sit back and watch?” Heat seems to ripple off him, and I suddenly wonder if he is partially to blame for this stifling room.
I see it then, the green of his eyes that matches the jealousy, the envy. I can see the part of him that wishes he could run into battle and save the day like his brother. Wishes he could earn his father’s favor through brawn and not brains. Wishes he could be the hero, rather than the one the hero is protecting.
And yet, I feel no pity for the boy before me. To envy Kai is to envy a murderer.
Play the part. Play him.
“What I mean,” I say, slowly, “is that you have your duties, and Kai has his. You’re both fighting for your kingdom, just in different ways.”
I can see he’s not convinced, but he offers me a smile anyway, one that almost reaches his eyes. “You would make quite the adviser, you know that?”
“Well, maybe if I survive these Trials, you can hire me.” He chuckles softly at that, and I give him a small smile in return. “Although,” I say with a sigh, “advisers are supposed to know what is going on, and I sure as hell don’t.”
Come on. Tell me. Trust me.
“Sly,” Kitt sighs. “Fine, you deserve to know what’s going on, seeing that one of them nearly sliced your arm off.” He brushes a thumb over the thin scar on my exposed arm, his eyes tracing it. I shrink away from the touch, and the action doesn’t go unnoticed.
Kitt clears his throat and leans away from me. “They call themselves the Resistance.” His voice is low and steady, intended for only me to hear. “They are a group of Ordinaries that have been banding together for years. Fighting against the king and the kingdom because of what was done to their kind.”
Their kind. My kind.
I force myself to swallow my disgust and listen as he continues. “At first, they were barely a threat, a joke of a revolution. We’ve kept this little group a secret, kept it hidden from the people for a few years now. It hasn’t been hard to do till recently. But clearly, they are bigger and stronger than before.”
I think I stopped breathing. All I hear is the blood pounding in my ears as I take in the weight of his words.
A group of Ordinaries fighting against the king and the kingdom.
“How?” The word is raspy, almost drowned out in the chatter of the room. “How is there such a large group of Ordinaries? How are they such a threat now?”
“Apparently, there were a lot more Ordinaries hiding in Ilya than suspected after they were banished, and as long as they repopulate here in the kingdom, their numbers will continue to grow.” He heaves a heavy a sigh. “But the Resistance seems to be more of a cause than a group. They are spread out all over the city, hiding in plain sight. Which makes things far more difficult since they aren’t all gathered in one place. And what’s worse, we don’t think they are working alone.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, and he continues. “They have Elites working with them. Powerful ones. Ones that are also pissed off at my father, at the kingdom.”
My forehead crinkles in confusion, trying to figure out what he means. And then it clicks, right as Kitt voices what I’ve just pieced together.
“The Fatals. The Silencers, the Mind Readers, and the Controllers. Father banished them alongside the Ordinaries during the Purging because of how dangerous they were, even to other Elites, and he only keeps one of each in his court who are loyal to him. But there are still some out there, and we currently have one in the dungeons beneath us.” He nods at me with a small smile. “We have you to thank for that.”
The Silencer.
“Wait,” I say slowly, trying to puzzle everything out, “if the Fatals are truly working with the Resistance, then why wouldn’t they fight in the attack? They would have done a lot more damage if they had.”
Kitt runs a hand through his hair. “We aren’t sure. Maybe they weren’t intending on attacking. They were unprepared and incredibly outnumbered, which makes me wonder why they came here in the first place.”
Words fall out of my mouth, and I can do nothing to stop them. “And what do you think about this Resistance?”
“What do I think about these criminals?” He sighs through his nose, shaking his head. “I…I understand. I think it’s wrong, but I understand why they are doing it.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “But if they are allowed to live, then the Elite race will slowly die. Who knows how many Elites have already been infected by the Ordinaries hiding among them? I’m sure people have already begun to feel the effects, the weakening of their power.” He pauses, sighing. “The Ordinaries’ sacrifice is necessary for the greater good of the kingdom.”
Right. I forgot that I’m diseased.
I study him, taking in the strong features of his face now etched with tension and stress. “And that is what you believe?”
I know I should shut my mouth, should nod my agreement instead of risking speaking treason. But something about this boy brings out a recklessness in me, a need to show him how wrong he is, how twisted his kingdom is.
“That is what I know,” he says softly, looking me in the eyes until I tear mine away, unable to unsee my father’s murderer in them.
“And yet, you can know something and not believe it.” My voice sounds shaky, and I hope he believes it to be from fear and not anger. “You have a choice, Kitt. You always have a choice.”
He chuckles, but it’s void of humor. “If I always had a choice, then I wouldn’t be in this safe room. I’d be out there, fighting alongside my brother.”
My eyes fall to the flames flickering over his fingers, betraying his frustration. I lift my head and take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “Do you not want to be king?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I do not want to be a coward.” I force myself to hold his gaze, seeing all the confusion and consideration reflected in it. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“Yes, well, you’ll find that I often ask questions that I shouldn’t,” I say, looking away from him.
“Don’t stop,” he says quickly, quietly. My gaze slides back towards him to rest on the top button of his shirt. “Your questions, your thoughts, your contradictions—I want to hear them all.”
I open my mouth to reply when a gust of cool air breezes over my face, and the thick metal door swings open with a clang. My head snaps to the handful of Imperials pouring into the room, heading for the king and queen.