Page 115 of Powerless

He raises his hands innocently and chuckles, a wide grin lighting up his tanned face. “Hey, you’re the one who called me an ass earlier.”

My mouth falls open at the realization that I had, in fact, said just that to the future king of Ilya. The look on my face has him laughing even harder, and I don’t think before dipping my hand in the water and thoroughly splashing him.

That was a mistake. I should know better than to start a water fight with a Duel who could drown me if he liked. After Kitt has finished thoroughly splashing me, water is dripping from my hair and clinging to my lashes. And then I’m laughing at the sight of us, sopping wet in the middle of the castle garden.

I’m still wiping sticky strands of hair off my face when I say, “This was not a very fair fight.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Paedyn

The familiar stenchof loot fills my nose, and I suppress the urge to gag.

Home sweet home.

The long, wide street is cast in shadows, cleared of merchant carts and beggars for the night. I pass clumps of homeless huddling together in the adjacent alleys jutting off Loot, gambling or using their powers to entertain themselves.

It’s nearly a quarter past midnight already, and with a huff, I pick up my pace. Because tonight I have somewhere to be, and questions to be answered.

Tonight I’m finding the Resistance.

It wasn’t hard to slip out of the palace, especially since Lenny doesn’t guard my door at night. The Imperials that litter the palace weren’t a problem either, seeing that I’m used to sneaking around unseen. I crept out through the garden and followed the road by the Bowl all the way back to Loot since I haven’t the slightest idea how to ride a horse and figured tonight wasn’t the best time to figure it out.

I pass by the alley where I first met Kai, and smile at the fond memory of robbing him blind.

Good times.

I push thoughts of him away, not allowing myself to get distracted as I turn down a familiar street. My street. The one where the small, white shack of a house resides. I swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of it. I haven’t been back here since I fled from it five years ago. When it was covered in my father’s blood, and I was smothered by grief.

But this is where that boy’s note led me, the one I now know is a part of the Resistance. I’m suddenly standing at the door, breathing hard as I stare at the familiar cracks and dents in the wood.

Here goes nothing.

I take a deep breath and pull at the door.

Locked.

But bolted doors are child’s play to a thief. I pull out my father’s dagger and pick the lock with ease, seeing that he taught me that skill with this exact door and this exact blade so many years ago.

The door swings open, creaking on its rusty hinges as I step through it. I clutch my dagger tightly while I cautiously peer around my old home. It looks completely ordinary, completely the same. The old furniture resides in the exact same spot I left it in, the cracks in the walls still climbing up to the ceiling. Cobwebs cling to almost every surface in the house, looking as if someone hasn’t been here in years.

Maybe I was wrong.

“Well, well, well. Look who the Plague dragged in.”

I have my knife raised, aimed, and ready to throw at the figure standing in the shadows behind me.

In the darkness, I see the shadowy outline of hands raised in surrender. My eyes adjust to the dim light, catching a flash of red, tousled hair falling over a freckled forehead.

“Lenny?” I whisper, my mouth falling open. He takes a slow step forward and his familiar brown eyes and grin come into focus.

“The one and only.” His voice sounds as light and kind as it always is in the palace. But that doesn’t mean I drop the blade still raised in my hand. I’m confused, disoriented, and in need of answersnow.

“What is going on?” I demand, staring at him suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

Is he a part of the Resistance? He must be, but—

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “we have a lot to fill you in on.”

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