Page 22 of Fearless

“Before,” Paedyn answers softly, speaking the truth but only half of it.

Kitt nods, attempting to seem unruffled with a swift redirecting of the subject. His voice sounds suddenly tired. “I see. Well, it’s safe to say that Kai and I are likely equal in our stupidity over the years.”

I nod along, hoping my fading smile doesn’t portray the sadness I suddenly feel. The Kitt I saw mere minutes ago was a glimpse of the boy I grew up with, the boy I loved before I’d even understood the meaning of the word. And I wish so badly to hold on to that familiar version of him, rip the crown from his head before it seeps into the body beneath.

Paedyn is the kink in our relationship that we can’t quite iron out. Despite all that has happened, it seems that Kitt still feels something for her. Perhaps that is why he shies away, grows distant in our presence—because he knows I feel for her just the same. Our brotherly bond falters in the face of her.

The coach rumbles down the road as we return to a more comfortable silence. By now, the scenery surrounding us has shifted from an assortment of trees to a line of grand houses. We’ve entered the higher-class section of the city, an extravagant strip that most Offensive Elites call home.

Paedyn shifts uncomfortably as we turn down the first street. Looming mansions and well-manicured shops cast large shadows over us. Several marching Imperials join our procession as we slow our pace over the cobblestones.

At the echoing sounds of clopping hooves and stomping feet, Ilyans begin to spill out of their homes. They frame the road in their fine clothing, some even holding the fliers that were scattered across the city. It’s mostly indifference on the faces we first roll past, though it quickly morphs into variations of disgust and betrayal at the sight of their future queen.

“It wouldn’t hurt to smile, Paedyn,” Kitt murmurs as he raises a hand to wave at the growing crowd.

As if shaken from her stupor, Pae nods absentmindedly before mustering a small smile. The wave of her hand is sure, but I don’t miss the trembling fingers she tries to still. I drum my own on the seat beside me; a distraction from the anger that surges whenever I see her panic. And she has every reason to.

As a traitor, she was paraded through this crowd, spit on by the mouths that now scowl at her. These were the same people who hatefully welcomed her back into Ilya on our way to the castle. She washumiliated on these very streets, degraded by Elites who loathed her the moment they discovered she was not one of them.

And, even now, they do the same. Though, this time looks different. Paedyn is not shuffling behind my horse, bound by rope, bloody and broken. No, she sits tall in the coach, cloaked in finery, and crowned with a shiny new title. Yet, silently, they sneer at her. They see nothing but what she was—a traitor—and what she will always be—an Ordinary.

As we continue our slow crawl down the street, I sit quietly within the chaos surrounding us. My eyes stray to Kitt, looking kingly as he waves and smiles at the crowd. Adoration still fills the gazes of those around us the moment they land on him. He has always been so loved by this kingdom.

But it’s Paedyn who I study, helpless to keep from staring at her. She remains composed despite the occasional shout from the crowd. Harder still to stomach is the way Kitt continually leans against her—a show for his subjects. They are betrothed; now they must act like it.

And here I sit, unable to stop it. Unable to do anything but watch them slowly become each other’s forever.

They wave. They smile. They look every bit the happy couple.

Kitt sighs, his following mutter a spilled thought that was likely not intended for us. “So few…”

Eager to take a break from her stiff smile, Paedyn turns toward him. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Kitt clears his throat. “I just remember there being more Offensive Elites out here. Must be my mind playing tricks.”

“Or they would rather stay inside than see me,” Paedyn offers between the teeth she is baring at the crowd.

I blow out a breath when we round the final street corner, and the multitude of faces begin to blur behind us. Kitt relaxes in his seat. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Yes, it was riveting.”

Pae’s eyes meet mine, stripping me bare with a single swipe of them. Shockingly enough, I find gratitude lingering in her gaze, thanking me for enduring this alongside her. And, suddenly, the look of relief she wears at my mere presence proves to be reward enough.

“You did well.”

At Kitt’s clipped words, her eyes abandon mine to find his. “I doubt they agree,” she says with a look over her shoulder at the mass of blurry bodies. “Kitt, they will never accept me as their queen.”

I can’t seem to tell whether he liked hearing his name from her lips. “Yes, they will.” His tone is stern. “It just takes time.”

“Time?” She almost laughs. “This kingdom has been without Ordinaries for over three decades. From the looks of it, they will need much longer than that toadjust.”

Therein lies the truth of Paedyn’s motivation—the Ordinaries. What point is saving Ilya if it remains segregated? Her purpose is freedom for those like her, not the saving of a hateful kingdom.

I lean forward, hands on bent knees. “Why don’t we discuss this back at the castle? In private.”

Paedyn’s eyes lift to the procession in front of us and where exactly it’s headed. “We’re going back? Now?” Her head whips toward Kitt, hair glinting in the sunlight. “What about the slums?”

Kitt’s gaze slides to mine, uncertain. “Well, the parades always remain in the upper city….”

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