Chapter 12 #2
Their conversation is cut short when the servants pour back into the room to clear the dishes. They weave around the table, grabbing plates and silverware before disappearing back into the hallway, leaving a spotless table in their wake.
Father and Mother stand as one. “Get some rest, Elites. Your training begins tomorrow.” With the king’s final words, they turn and stroll out the grand doors.
A beat of silence passes before chairs are scraping on the marble floor, and everyone is standing to their feet. Three Imperials are heading towards the new Elites, ready to escort them back to their rooms.
I watch as a young, redheaded guard saunters up to Paedyn with a grin. And suddenly, I’m stepping between them before I can stop myself. “I’ll take it from here.”
He looks at me, confused. “Sir, I am to escort—”
“I’m aware. And I’m perfectly capable of making sure she gets to her room, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” And with that, he tips his head towards Paedyn before striding from the room.
I glance at her myself, the look of confusion on her face mirroring the boy’s. And then I turn and stroll out the doors, not waiting for her to catch up. She huffs before the quick click of her heeled boots begins echoing behind me.
“Why the sudden urge to be a gentleman?” she calls dryly from behind. I stop and spin on my heel, watching her as she walks towards me, my gaze briefly flicking over her.
“Don’t get used to it,” I say with a quick smirk. “My room just happens to be across from yours, so I might as well be a gentleman just this once.”
I shove my hands into my pockets as we begin walking again, this time with her at my side. “And why would a prince be staying in the contestant’s wing of the palace?”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I too, am a contestant in the Trials.”
She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yes, I have happened to notice. But I thought the prince was supposed to have some grand room stocked full of servants who wait on him hand and foot?” Her question is accusing, lovely words laced with venom.
“Oh, don’t worry, I have one of those too,” I reply coolly, hearing her scoff beside me.
She’s only partially right. I do have a grand room, though I refuse to let servants wait on me.
“All the contestants are to have the same living conditions before and during the Trials. That way, no one can accuse anyone else of being favored or having the upper hand.”
We stop outside her room where she turns to face me fully. She looks like she might laugh again, but when she speaks, her words are bitter. “Just because we are all staying in similar rooms, doesn’t mean others don’t have the upper hand.”
I’m quiet as I consider her for a moment.
If I were a Mundane thrown into the Trials, pitted against some of the strongest abilities Elites can have, I don’t doubt I would feel any differently.
Her power isn’t something she can wield as a weapon like the rest of us.
She’s forced to rely on her own strength rather than the strength of an ability.
I suddenly think of how she fought the Silencer, so skilled and so sure of herself. Perhaps she has a better chance of surviving these games than she gives herself credit for.
I watch her gaze trail over my shoulder to the door I’m currently blocking. She opens her mouth to say something, drawing my attention to the healing split in her bottom lip.
On an impulse I couldn’t seem to ignore, my fingers catch her chin and lift her face up towards mine.
She’s too stunned to move, and I take advantage of it.
“I would have thought you could avoid a direct hit like this. Guess you’re not as skilled of a fighter as I thought.
” I shrug and tilt her head towards the light, casually examining the angry cut in her lip.
Oh, but she’s no longer standing there stunned, still, and silent.
In one swift movement, she grabs my wrist from under her chin and twists it outward with a jerk, sending a shooting pain up my arm.
Then she’s gripping my shirt and shoving me against the wall.
Her free hand finds the dagger strapped to my hip and slips it out, settling the sharp blade against my throat.
“Would you like to find out just how skilled of a fighter I am?” She looks up at me coolly, amusement dancing in her eyes at the situation I’m currently in. She loves the sight of the prince pinned against a wall. And not just any prince: the future Enforcer.
I lean against the cool stone, laughing darkly as I slip my hands casually into my pockets. That only has her pressing the blade harder against my throat, threatening to draw blood.
Vicious, little thing, isn’t she?
“Careful, Highness. I wouldn’t want to spill royal blood.” She’s mocking me and it’s an adorable attempt.
I lean towards her, letting the sharp steel of my own blade bite into my throat, drawing a thin line of hot blood. “Careful, darling. You forget that spilling blood is what I do best.”
We stare at each other.
She’s eying me with an expression I can’t quite read, but she recovers quickly, diverting the conversation with ease. “One of your Imperials did this to me.” She uncurls her fist from my shirt and gestures to her lip. “Speaking of, did you ever ask him about me? I’m sure he had much to say.”
I had, and he did. After speaking with each Imperial assigned to the morning rotation, one mentioned his recent encounter with the Psychic. The man’s disdain for Paedyn was more than obvious as he recapped what she had sensed from him.
And yet, he failed to mention how he’d hit her.
Perhaps I’ll relieve him of one of his hands, so he never has the opportunity to lay it on a woman again.
“I spoke with him, yes,” I say quietly. “Though it seems we may be having another conversation in the near future.” Her eyes flick over my face, making me feel abnormally and annoyingly anxious under her gaze.
I clear my throat and look down towards the knife she still holds steadily against my neck.
“I thought we established that you do know who I am, correct?” The corner of my lips twists upward as I say it, remembering our encounter in the alley. When I had her pinned against a wall.
“I do,” she says, so close to me now that I can study all the different shades of blue in her eyes. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. A cocky bastard?”
I laugh, only making the dagger sink farther into my flesh.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter who you are.” Her gaze drops to the floor briefly before fixing it back on me. “We are competing against each other now. No favoritism , remember? You said so yourself.”
Fine. I’ll play along.
I slip a hand from my pocket and reach around her back, slowly, holding her gaze all the while.
She looks at me, confusion written all over her face, though her hold on the knife is firm.
She and I both know she won’t actually slit my throat, so I’m not the least bit worried as I continue to wrap my arm behind her until my fingers brush against the cold handle of a dagger tucked into the band of her pants.
I knew it was there, saw the sun glint off the silver hilt when she stood from the dinner table, turning her back to me.
Smiling down at her, I slide out the dagger slowly, my fingers briefly brushing against her lower back. I think I hear the faintest gasp slip past her lips as I press her own knife to her throat, mirroring what she’s doing to me.
“You’re right. We are competing against each other now.” I laugh softly. “Guess I better start trying then.”
We watch each other for a long moment. Her gaze is unwavering, reminding me of the still ocean, the calm before the storm. “Mark my words, prince, I will be your undoing.”
I lean in, ignoring the knife against my throat as murmur, “Oh, darling, I look forward to it.”
Far too much time passes.
And then—
Slowly, surprisingly, she drops the knife from my throat.
I too lower my—her—dagger and place it in her expectant, outstretched hand.
She moves to pull away, to leave me and this conversation, but I catch her wrist. She stills at my touch, and my eyes lock with hers as I guide her hand, and the knife clutched within it, to my chest. The blade lined with my own blood meets the fabric of my shirt, and her knuckles brush my chest as I wipe her dagger clean.
“So much for not spilling royal blood,” I sigh.
She exhales slowly. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”
“So, I should get used to this?”
“You should expect this.”
I smile. “Then I look forward to our next encounter.”
I wink and she rolls her eyes before slipping my dagger back into its sheath and returning her own into the band of her pants. And then she’s brushing past my arm and heading for her door.
“Always a pleasure,” I say, striding to my own room across the hall.
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t say the same.” I see the flash of a grin before she steps into her room, swinging the door shut behind her.
As soon as I’m on the other side of my own door, I’m pacing around the room that just so happens to be right across from hers. My fingers stray to my neck, feeling the sticky warmth of my blood there.
This girl might be the death of me. Literally.