Kitt pulls me down the tunnel towards the Bowl, and I’m flooded with relief after finally discovering the passage. We walk and talk for nearly ten minutes before Kitt’s firelight illuminates a heavy door.
There it is. Salvation.
He heaves it open, revealing the dark room beneath the box before propping the door open with a small rock so we can get back in when we return. Then we head to the trap door in the ceiling, pushing it open before I’m once again pulling myself up through it. I feel the ghost of his hands on my back before I climb into the glass box. Kitt follows quickly after, and we step out into the empty arena.
“How exactly are we planning on getting to Loot?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.
“Since the stable boys can’t know that we are quite literally riding off into the sunset,” Kitt flashes me a smile, “we are headed to the field beside the Bowl where many of the horses graze during the day.”
We make our way out of the arena through one of the many concrete tunnels, ominous even with its absence of a jeering audience. When we finally reach the clearing, the warmth of the sun is blocked by the looming Bowl beside us.
A beautiful white horse canters up to greet us, clearly excited to get away from the Plague-forsaken place as well. I clear my throat and swallow my pride before muttering, “I don’t know how to ride.”
“Then you better hold on tight,” Kitt replies with a grin, his eyes briefly meeting mine.
Without a saddle, Kitt helps me onto the horse before gracefully mounting himself. I don’t know where to put my hands, feeling suddenly awkward with my chest pressed against his back.
He turns his head to look at me, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Are you sure you can steal me away?”
“Please,” I muse, “I’m a thief. Stealing is kind of what I do best.”
Kitt hasn’t stopped coughing since we arrived at Loot.
“Plagues, it does reek here.” He stifles a cough, trying to clear his lungs of the thick air. “Damn.”
I snort, watching as he scans his new surroundings, still trying to take it all in. His gaze runs over the beaten merchant carts scattered across Loot, all decorated with faded banners or torn signs. He takes in the crumbling buildings and shops outlining the wide street, watching as his people meander in and out of them.
His head swivels in the direction of each shout, listening as one man advertises his fresh catch of fish while another haggles loudly with a woman over the price of fabric. Everywhere around us is chaos, a sort of blissful craze. And we are standing in the middle of it, surrounded by a swarm of people going about their lives. Selling and buying. Living and trying to live. Loot seems to buzz with people, and yet, all I see is the buzz of existence.
I reach up and tug the cap resting on Kitt’s head lower. I snatched that and a beat-up shirt for him to slip on, though I doubt anyone is paying attention to us. He returns my gesture in kind, chuckling as he pulls my own hat over my eyes while silver wisps of hair fall around my face. I huff and readjust my cap with a smile tugging at my lips before leading him farther down the street, dodging laughing children who scuttle around our legs.
Kitt is trying to take it all in, soak up every bit of Loot. Every drab banner leached of color, every person that bumps into us on the crowded street. There is a Veil performing magic for a few onlookers, wowing the crowd and using his power to earn a few silvers. Defensive Elites always do well in this part of the slums, standing out among the many Mundanes.
I watch Kitt while he peers down the smaller alleys and streets jutting off Loot, catching glimpses of makeshift tents and the homeless figures huddling together within them. He stiffens at the sight of lonely, young children weaving between carts, hands clearly itching to snatch any sort of food.
“They’ll be whipped when they’re caught,” I say flatly.
His eyes are trained on mine now. “When they’re caught?”
“Yes. When.” I sigh and continue leading him down the crowded street. “The young ones are reckless and too impatient to be good thieves at that age. And since most Elites in the slums are Mundanes, their powers are likely unhelpful when it comes to surviving. I would know.”
I stop us in front of the bloody post residing in the center of Loot, where thieves and criminals alike are beaten. “This is where your Imperials will punish those children for their crimes.” I jerk my head towards the guards lining the street, currently scanning the crowd for their next victim.
Kitt steps closer to me, closing the distance between us. His green eyes glisten with emotion he doesn’t try to hide. “Did you ever . . . ”
“Yes. I was one of those children once. More than once. And I have the scars to prove it.” The streaks along my lower back seem to tingle at the mention and memory of them. He looks at me with such pain, such pity in his eyes that for the first time since our walk in the garden, I can’t bear to hold his gaze.
So, I pull him away before he can say another word. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
I drag him down the street, holding his hand firmly so he doesn’t get swept away in the crowd. No one pays any heed to the future king walking among them, or the Ordinary in plain sight leading him.
I stop at the end of a familiar alley. My makeshift little home is still tucked into the corner where I’m shocked to find it undisturbed. Bittersweet memories claw to the surface of my mind as I step towards the barrier of garbage and rugs I know as the Fort.
Kitt is suddenly beside me, his arm brushing mine as he looks over the mound. “This is where you slept.” It’s not a question.
“Home sweet home,” I whisper, surprised at how strained my voice sounds.
And then my face is suddenly in his hands, and his voice has taken on a soft sort of sternness. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to live like this.” He sighs as his eyes search mine. “Thank you. Thank you for showing me this. Loot. My people.” He pauses. “You. Thank you for entrusting me with the details of you.”
My throat bobs when the guilt slams into me again, forcing me to fight to keep my voice steady as I say, “No, thank you for trusting me, Kitt.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Paedyn
“What is taking him so long? Plagues, it’s freezing out here.” My teeth are chattering thanks to the uncharacteristically cold night, and my thin shirt does little to keep the cool breeze from kissing my skin.
“Patience, Princess,” Lenny mutters beside me. I’m shoving him with an annoyed smile before the words have even finished rolling off his tongue. He suppresses the urge to shove me back and I give him a wicked grin, tempting him to do just that.
And right as I think things are about to get interesting, the door swings open.
“Sorry to interrupt your brawl but it’s quite chilly out here and you two should really come inside before you catch a cold.” Calum’s voice is laced with amusement as he steps aside to let us into the house.
My house.
We make our way to the study and down the hidden stairs to the basement below. I’ve been here several times since the night I first ventured back to my home, and I’ve grown numb to the sight of my father’s study. I’m less haunted, but still far from healed. I suppose even trauma grows tired of its endless tormenting, if only for a little while.