Page 107 of Fearless

“I suppose, but—”

“Perfect,” I say cheerily. “Roses.”

Ellie gives me a knowing look. “Is that just the first flower that came to mind?”

“Maybe, but it seems fitting,” I defend. “I admire the rose and its thorns. Even the prettiest things can bite.”

Slowly, Ellie nods in agreement. “Then roses it is.” I watch her bustle around the room once again, ensuring everything is in order for the night.“And they will certainly be easy to find. There is a private rose garden here on the grounds. Pretty pink ones, I believe.” I bat her away when she tries to fluff the pillow behind my back. “Now”—she straightens my boots beside the wardrobe—“I will see you in the morning, miss.”

I shake my head at her, even as a smile turns my lips. “Good night, Ellie.”

Tipping her head timidly, she offers a quiet “Good night, Paedyn.”

I watch her slip out the door before spreading my tired limbs out on the bed. Even after I did little more than waste away the day and take full advantage of sleeping on solid ground again, my eyelids still manage to droop. The dagger beneath my pillow is a comfort I clutch as I drift into sleep.

I dream of Adena, as I always do. It is unpleasant, as it always is.

The memory of her death resurfaces, swirling in and out of focus. A collage of every way in which I should have saved her plays behind my heavy eyelids. This nightmare is as torturous as every one before, and I claw uselessly at my subconscious to free me from it.

When I finally wake, it is to a sweaty brow and still-darkened sky. Though, most alarming of all, is the plan I’ve determined. With my mind set and heart aching, I stand to my feet. I don’t bother changing my large shirt and the thin pants beneath, though I quickly add Adena’s torn vest to the ensemble. It is only right to visit our home with her hugging me closely.

I step out into the shadowed hallway, looking like the resident of Loot I once was, ready to rob an unsuspecting prince. It’s fitting that I look like my old self, feel like the girl just trying to survive one sunrise at a time.

Before I was the Silver Savior, the king killer, the queen-to-be, I was Paedyn Gray.

And she is going home.

Soft light slips between the cracked cobblestones and crawls up the sooty walls. I breathe in the familiar stench of Loot, nearly choking on the thick air. My senses are bombarded with the past and every memory that accompanies it.

Dawn dares to creep over the horizon, painting the alley in a warm glow. While walking that graveled path from the Bowl Arena, I watched the night slowly flee from a rising sun. Those quiet hours were spent reliving the last time I stumbled down that road, bloody and broken. I passed the tree whose roots are decorated with that bundle of forget-me-nots, passed the rocks and plants that were once stained with my blood. Everywhere I looked, my past stared back.

It follows me still, here on Loot. I walk the same uneven cobblestones, dodge the same sneering Imperials. Though, I have never been so aware of the stubborn stench that ceaselessly wafts from the slums, not since staying in the castle.

This realization stings slightly, a reminder of everything I no longer am. So much of myself lives within these streets, both the broken and the resilient. Adena lives here, on every warm breeze and colorful banner. Her name is written across the stones I step on, and I let her soft presence lead me back home.

Merchants roll their carts right across my path, cutting me off with an unbothered yawn. Some start the day early in the hopes of claiming the most populated parts of Loot. I scan the rickety stalls as I pass, finding the shortage of resources on display. Food was something I rarely paid for, let alone observed for long before shoving it into my mouth. Still, I saw it dwindle over the years, slowly enough that only the merchants knew for a long while.

I was so busy surviving the streets of Loot that I didn’t know theextent of what was happening on them. Homeless huddle against crumbling buildings, no bed to sleep in or money to live with. A stack of sticky buns glisten on a merchant’s cart, each one an outlandish five shillings. I realize now that I’ve never actually paid for one, and thus, have no idea how expensivelivinghas become. More than ever, I see Ilya for what it is—shambles.

But that is going to change.

I tug the fraying vest around me and quicken my pace. A small crowd spills out onto the alley, snatching what food they can afford. I weave between the bodies, and it feels like falling back into a familiar rhythm. The tranquility of blending in is a beauty that even the castle cannot offer me. I have not felt peace like this since…

Since I left Adena for the Purging Trials.

The thought falls away when the Fort comes into view.

My heart stutters in reminder of its missing piece. I stumble toward the alley’s end, my eyes pinned on the barricade. A ray of sunlight brushes the worn rug and reaches for me to rejoin it.

The Fort looms closer, and my pulse quickens. Squinting through the shadows, I falter at the unfamiliarity before me.

This is not the home I left.

No, this fort now bears a colorful banner above it. The fabric squares have been sown onto the yarn, painstaking proof that this was Adena’s doing.

I can’t seem to breathe.

Behind the barrier, our belongings have been rearranged. The usual pile of cloth is sorted neatly beside a new blanket and pillow I never got the chance to share with her.

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