Fearless (The Powerless Trilogy #3)

Chapter 53 Kai

CHAPTER 53 Kai

I take a seat in the rigid chair, forcing an equally uncomfortable smile.

“Hello, Mother.”

Her tired eyes give me that knowing look. “Kitt told me. In fact, you just missed him.”

“Oh?” I take in the cot she hasn’t left in nearly two months. “He still comes to see you?”

A sharp cough rings through the empty wing before she manages, “We’ve… bonded since the passing of his father.” Her hand reaches weakly for mine. “But don’t go changing the subject, Kai. I know.”

Sighing, I run fingers through my disheveled hair. “Two days.”

“How does the throne room look?”

I almost laugh. “Like a garden. Blooms have woven dozens of those pink roses along the aisle and around pillars.”

“It is a royal wedding,” she says, voice hoarse. “They typically are extravagant.” Hurriedly, she adds, “Well, not mine and the king’s, of course.”

“Because Father had to remarry quickly after the death of Kitt’s mother,” I nearly recite.

It’s like looking into a mirror, her eyes. They study me for a long moment, seemingly in search of something within them. “I forget that you are so young. Still so much for you to learn.”

The words sound vaguely like a warning I’m meant to heed. But when the queen succumbs to a fit of coughs, all thoughts are overshadowed with concern for her. I raise a glass of water to her lips, tipping her reddened face back until the cool liquid has cleared her throat.

“I’m…” She swallows before trying again. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Shh.” It’s a stern hushing for a queen. “I won’t be seeing you like this for long, because you’ll be healthy before we know it.”

Her smile, once so vibrant, has dulled. “You can lie to yourself all you like. But don’t do it to your dying mother.”

I shake my head, refusing to believe her words and wishing to speak of different ones. “You’re okay with Kitt marrying Paedyn?”

“Kitt has his reasons,” she says simply.

I’m not entirely convinced by this answer.

She coughs. I wince. “Rest, Mother.”

“So…” A ragged heave of her chest interrupts the words. “So much to learn.”

Heat envelops the kitchen, wafting the scent of freshly seasoned potatoes into the air.

“Jax is practically salivating beside me,” Andy points out with a snort. “Gail, how much longer? He’s scaring me.”

The cook turns, her round face wearing a bright grin. “Almost there, hun. The turkey needs a bit longer yet.”

Perched on my usual counter, Kitt sits beside me as though we are boys again. Andy and Jax occupy the far ledge while Paedyn leans against an open wall, observing the lot of us.

“Hang in there, J,” Kitt comforts, albeit teasingly. He seems better with our company, his mind clearer of whatever haunts it.

Jax puffs out his chest, long legs dangling over the counter. “I’m a hungry, growing boy.”

I laugh. “Oh, you better be done growing.”

“Yeah”—Kitt gives him a sympathetic look—“we can’t have our little brother looking down on us.”

Andy’s burgundy eyebrows fly up her forehead. “If he has to look down on me, he has to look down on you two.”

“I simply won’t allow it,” Kitt states.

“Great idea.” Andy dips a finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes beside her, sneaking a taste. “Let’s make that your next decree, yes?”

Gail doesn’t bother turning around. “I saw that, Andrea.”

With wide honey eyes, Andy hisses in our direction. “How the hell does she do that?!”

Paedyn laughs, drawing my attention to the opposite side of the stove. Every eye rests on her and the stunning smile she wears. “The pot. Gail can see your reflection in the pot, Andrea .”

The cook whirls on Paedyn, though her grin never falters. “Don’t go givin’ away my secrets!”

“Why, thank you, Miss Gray,” Andy says sweetly. “Next, I’ll need you to figure out how Jasmyn keeps cheating in cards.”

Paedyn nods. “Anytime.”

“Oh!” Jax nearly jumps from the counter. “Can you figure out where all my left socks are going?”

“Yes, quite the conundrum.” My cousin throws an arm around Jax’s shoulders. “But the future queen owes me a favor or two after fixing her door. Twice.”

Her gaze then slides accusingly toward me. I lean casually back on my palms, meeting her stare with a slight smirk. “I was dead for a day, and it’s the door you care about?”

“Oh, please,” she mutters. “We knew you weren’t dead. But, don’t worry, I still mourned the presence of my dear cousin.”

“What decree did you have in mind?” Kitt cuts in, addressing Andy. “Jax must stop growing, was it?”

It’s clear he wishes for a change of subject, and thankfully, our cousin is more than happy to oblige. “I think that is a very kingly declaration.”

“It is not!” Jax protests.

I let them bicker among themselves, if only to relive a piece of our past. Everything is so much simpler in this kitchen, as though the world beyond stops when we step behind these stone walls. A relief of sorts resides on Paedyn’s face. Perhaps even she has found a semblance of solace here. With us. This family she never had.

“All right,” Gail bellows. “Grab a plate now and set the table.”

We do as we are told, filling the rickety table on the far side of the kitchen. Bowls of food promptly descend upon the wood, covering every scratch and stain. After shooing us all into a seat, Gail sits at the head, scooping her feast onto our plates.

As children, this was our sanctuary—sitting around this table, hiding from the pressures of a court we didn’t understand. Now, it is even more so.

Jax and Andy argue over which piece of turkey they deserve while Kitt laughs, doing little to mediate between them and their appetites. I rarely see him this happy outside the kitchen or company of family.

Paedyn sits across from me, piling beans onto her plate. She lifts her eyes, giving me a knowing glance that has me grinning.

“So you do like green beans,” I say slyly.

“Well, since you forced me to eat them when I arrived at this castle,” she reminds, “they have grown on me.”

“Among many other things since you’ve gotten here.”

“Don’t push it, Azer.” She smiles, and I wish for nothing more than to kiss it from her lips. “I have plenty of knives at my disposal to press to your pretty neck.”

“See”—I point my fork at her—“if you call me pretty, I hear only the compliment. Not the threat.”

She rolls her eyes, but I’m robbed of whatever lovely response she was ready to give me when a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “The king informed me that dinner would be served in the kitchen tonight.” Calum stands in the doorway, his daughter occupying the shadow he casts. “I hope we are not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” Kitt waves at them to join. “There is plenty of food. Please help us eat it.”

My gaze flicks to Paedyn, now patting the empty seat beside her. “Mira. Come sit.”

She does, despite the disinterested look she wears. Calum then takes a seat at the table’s end before lifting his glass into the air. “Let us thank the Plague for this royal union to come.”

Kitt’s eyes are fixed on the Mind Reader as he raises his own drink. “Thank the Plague.”

The mumbled phrase carries its way around the table until every glass is raised. But it is Paedyn alone who does not thank the Plague. Instead, she tips her head, turning back to Calum expectantly.

A smile touches my lips.

She will not thank what has stolen everything from her.

I’m still staring at my queen when Calum declares, “To saving Ilya.”