Page 154 of Powerless

Kitt nods his head towards the tunnel to the left, cutting through my thoughts as he says, “That one leads out near the training grounds, but you can’t open the door from the outside.” Then he gestures towards the tunnel to the right. “And the one we are going down leads to Bowl Arena and into the room under the box. The one we stayed in before the interviews.”

I nearly choke. Between coughs, I blame the outburst on the grimy air and not the information he so easily shared with me. Theexactinformation I needed.

My head is spinning. I invented the idea of Kitt using one of the tunnels to see Loot in order to learn where the other ones were, and which one led to the Bowl. And here we are, casually going through the exact one I needed to find.

Kitt pulls me down the tunnel towards the Bowl, and I’m flooded with relief after finally discovering the passage. We walk and talk for nearly ten minutes before Kitt’s firelight illuminates a heavy door.

There it is. Salvation.

He heaves it open, revealing the dark room beneath the box before propping the door open with a small rock so we can get back in when we return. Then we head to the trap door in the ceiling, pushing it open before I’m once again pulling myself up through it. I feel the ghost of his hands on my back before I climb into the glass box. Kitt follows quickly after, and we step out into the empty arena.

“How exactly are we planning on getting to Loot?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Since the stable boys can’t know that we are quite literally riding off into the sunset,” Kitt flashes me a smile, “we are headed to the field beside the Bowl where many of the horses graze during the day.”

We make our way out of the arena through one of the many concrete tunnels, ominous even with its absence of a jeering audience. When we finally reach the clearing, the warmth of the sun is blocked by the looming Bowl beside us.

A beautiful white horse canters up to greet us, clearly excited to get away from the Plague-forsaken place as well. I clear my throat and swallow my pride before muttering, “I don’t know how to ride.”

“Then you better hold on tight,” Kitt replies with a grin, his eyes briefly meeting mine.

Without a saddle, Kitt helps me onto the horse before gracefully mounting himself. I don’t know where to put my hands, feeling suddenly awkward with my chest pressed against his back.

He turns his head to look at me, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Are you sure you can steal me away?”

“Please,” I muse, “I’m a thief. Stealing is kind of what I do best.”

* * *

Kitt hasn’t stopped coughing since we arrived at Loot.

“Plagues, it does reek here.” He stifles a cough, trying to clear his lungs of the thick air. “Damn.”

I snort, watching as he scans his new surroundings, still trying to take it all in. His gaze runs over the beaten merchant carts scattered across Loot, all decorated with faded banners or torn signs. He takes in the crumbling buildings and shops outlining the wide street, watching as his people meander in and out of them.

His head swivels in the direction of each shout, listening as one man advertises his fresh catch of fish while another haggles loudly with a woman over the price of fabric. Everywhere around us is chaos, a sort of blissful craze. And we are standing in the middle of it, surrounded by a swarm of people going about their lives. Selling and buying. Living and trying to live. Loot seems to buzz with people, and yet, all I see is the buzz ofexistence.

I reach up and tug the cap resting on Kitt’s head lower. I snatched that and a beat-up shirt for him to slip on, though I doubt anyone is paying attention to us. He returns my gesture in kind, chuckling as he pulls my own hat over my eyes while silver wisps of hair fall around my face. I huff and readjust my cap with a smile tugging at my lips before leading him farther down the street, dodging laughing children who scuttle around our legs.

Kitt is trying to take it all in, soak up every bit of Loot. Every drab banner leached of color, every person that bumps into us on the crowded street. There is a Veil performing magic for a few onlookers, wowing the crowd and using his power to earn a few silvers. Defensive Elites always do well in this part of the slums, standing out among the many Mundanes.

I watch Kitt while he peers down the smaller alleys and streets jutting off Loot, catching glimpses of makeshift tents and the homeless figures huddling together within them. He stiffens at the sight of lonely, young children weaving between carts, hands clearly itching to snatch any sort of food.

“They’ll be whipped when they’re caught,” I say flatly.

His eyes are trained on mine now. “Whenthey’re caught?”

“Yes. When.” I sigh and continue leading him down the crowded street. “The young ones are reckless and too impatient to be good thieves at that age. And since most Elites in the slums are Mundanes, their powers are likely unhelpful when it comes to surviving. I would know.”

I stop us in front of the bloody post residing in the center of Loot, where thieves and criminals alike are beaten. “This is where your Imperials will punish those children for their crimes.” I jerk my head towards the guards lining the street, currently scanning the crowd for their next victim.

Kitt steps closer to me, closing the distance between us. His green eyes glisten with emotion he doesn’t try to hide. “Did you ever . . . ”

“Yes. I was one of those children once. More than once. And I have the scars to prove it.” The streaks along my lower back seem to tingle at the mention and memory of them. He looks at me with such pain, such pity in his eyes that for the first time since our walk in the garden, I can’t bear to hold his gaze.

So, I pull him away before he can say another word. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

I drag him down the street, holding his hand firmly so he doesn’t get swept away in the crowd. No one pays any heed to the future king walking among them, or the Ordinary in plain sight leading him.

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