Page 23 of Fearless

“But that is my home,” she says slowly. “That is where any remaining Ordinaries will be. Is this not a celebration of the union that will unite Elites and Ordinaries?” Her voice grows firm. “I took you to the slums, remember?”

“I remember you using me to discover the tunnels beneath our castle,” Kitt says coolly. “And disguising your true intentions behind wanting to show me your home.”

She grabs his hand, and I nearly flinch at the genuine movement. “And for that, I am sorry. I never wanted to use you like that, but helping the Resistance find a way into the Bowl was all I could do.” She shakes her head, voice suddenly soft. “I wasn’t a queen who could change this kingdom with the snap of her fingers. I was an Ordinary. Iaman Ordinary. And I showed you a piece of myself that day. Before Calum’s council, Ishowedyou that the people in those slums are your people too.” She slides her hand from his. “Or has power already made you forget that fact?”

I still at her words. There it is—that certain boldness only she possesses.

I didn’t get the chance to learn exactly what happened between them. Not before Kitt had locked himself away and sent me across the Scorches to find her. But I knew the betrayal ran deeper than the death of our father. And now I understand.

Kitt likely blames himself for that battle in the Bowl, for being fooled into showing a Resistance member exactly how to get into the arena unseen. He blames himself for getting swept up in her.

“You’re right,” Kitt says slowly. A sort of placidness falls over his features. “I should have known you would say that.”

My eyes flick between them, but he doesn’t look at me.

His words have horses halting, men obeying, Pae’s smile growing.

“Turn the coaches around. We are going to the slums.”

CHAPTER 9Paedyn

The smell alone tells me that we have arrived at Loot Alley.

I never thought I’d miss the stench of fish, sweat, and bodily fluids, but here I am, smiling despite it. The wide market street hums with life and vibrance. Merchants haggle behind their carts while children weave around them, evading shouting mothers.

All of it is perfectly untouched. Perfectly as it was when I was struggling to survive within it.

At the sight of the long entourage, carts begin rolling out of the way while shoppers scuttle behind. The homeless that inhabit these slums begin to peer out from the many alleys branching off Loot, bored enough to let their curiosity drag them onto the street.

It is a flurry of color, this jostling parade. Bright, emerald banners flap against the belly of our coach and every one surrounding it. Ilya’s flag is raised above a row of sleek horses, that swirling symbol rippling in the breeze. Shimmers manipulate the sunbeams to create a dazzling display of speckled light that drips down our coach and dances across the cobblestones.

My smile comes easily here, despite never doing so before. Perhaps some small part of me was homesick for this shithole I grew up in. Or maybe it’s because I understand these people. They are Elites, yes, but they are also outcasts. Here lie the Mundanes, the poor, and the few Ordinaries still left in this kingdom.

And one of them has just returned.

I wave at the shocked faces sliding by. They don’t look at me with disgust like the Elites outside the slums do. The most emotion I’m offered is confusion or indifference. When looking at me, they likely see themselves. I was living right beside them, stealing from right under their noses, not too long ago.

My eyes scan the packed crowd of tired faces staring back blankly. There are so many of them, all fighting for the same food and shelter. I wonder how many Ordinaries are hidden among them, blending in with hunched shoulders and a broken will.

I hope they see me now. Every smile, every wave, every sacrifice I’ve made for them.

My eyes light up at the sight of a crumbling building. “That’s Maria’s shop there.” I point, directing the boys’ attention to my sudden enthusiasm. “I used to steal her sticky buns and fabric before climbing up the chimney to escape.” I smile at the memory. “The sticky buns were for both of us, but the fabric was obviously for… Adena….”

I trail off, but the feel of watchful eyes on me forces more words from my mouth. “So, I’ve had a lot of practice climbing up chimneys, even when I hate small spaces.” I shoot a pointed look at Kai. “Which is why I didn’t burn to death when you lit my house on fire.”

“My search had to be thorough, darling,” he muses. “Don’t take it too personally.” His words are casual, perfectly playing the part of dutiful Enforcer. But I see the apology hidden in the gaze he keeps pinned on mine, see the promise we share.

Pretend.

With a realistic rolling of my eyes, I turn my attention back on the gawking crowd. I continue my routine of waving and—

My smile falls slightly.

I know we are halfway down the street when the bloody post comes into sight. The wooden block is stained a sickening shade of red, drenched in the blood of dozens. It stands as an example, or rather, whipping practice for the Imperials.

The faint scars flecking my lower back seem to sting at the sight of it. My clumsy fingers were the cause of many slashes across my skin. That is, until I got good enough to steal from the very Imperials who made me bleed.

“Paedyn?”

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