Page 37 of Powerless

I lean against the cool stone, laughing darkly as I slip my hands casually into my pockets. That only has her pressing the blade harder against my throat, threatening to draw blood.

Vicious, little thing, isn’t she?

“Careful, Highness. I wouldn’t want to spill royal blood.” She’s mocking me and it’s an adorable attempt.

I lean towards her, letting the sharp steel of my own blade bite into my throat, drawing a thin line of hot blood. “Careful, darling. You forget that spilling blood is what I do best.”

We stare at each other.

She’s eying me with an expression I can’t quite read, but she recovers quickly, diverting the conversation with ease. “One of your Imperials did this to me.” She uncurls her fist from my shirt and gestures to her lip. “Speaking of, did you ever ask him about me? I’m sure he had much to say.”

I had, and he did. After speaking with each Imperial assigned to the morning rotation, one mentioned his recent encounter with the Psychic. The man’s disdain for Paedyn was more than obvious as he recapped what she had sensed from him.

And yet, he failed to mention how he’d hit her.

Perhaps I’ll relieve him of one of his hands, so he never has the opportunity to lay it on a woman again.

“I spoke with him, yes,” I say quietly. “Though it seems we may be having another conversation in the near future.” Her eyes flick over my face, making me feel abnormally and annoyingly anxious under her gaze. I clear my throat and look down towards the knife she still holds steadily against my neck. “I thought we established that youdoknow who I am, correct?” The corner of my lips twists upward as I say it, remembering our encounter in the alley. When I hadherpinned against a wall.

“I do,” she says, so close to me now that I can study all the different shades of blue in her eyes. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. A cocky bastard?”

I laugh, only making the dagger sink farther into my flesh.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter who you are.” Her gaze drops to the floor briefly before fixing it back on me. “We are competing against each other now. Nofavoritism, remember? You said so yourself.”

Fine. I’ll play along.

I slip a hand from my pocket and reach around her back, slowly, holding her gaze all the while. She looks at me, confusion written all over her face, though her hold on the knife is firm. She and I both know she won’t actually slit my throat, so I’m not the least bit worried as I continue to wrap my arm behind her until my fingers brush against the cold handle of a dagger tucked into the band of her pants.

I knew it was there, saw the sun glint off the silver hilt when she stood from the dinner table, turning her back to me.

Smiling down at her, I slide out the dagger slowly, my fingers briefly brushing against her lower back. I think I hear the faintest gasp slip past her lips as I press her own knife to her throat, mirroring what she’s doing to me.

“You’re right. We are competing against each other now.” I laugh softly. “Guess I better start trying then.”

We watch each other for a long moment. Her gaze is unwavering, reminding me of the still ocean, the calm before the storm. “Mark my words, prince, I will be your undoing.”

I lean in, ignoring the knife against my throat as murmur, “Oh, darling, I look forward to it.”

Far too much time passes.

And then—

Slowly, surprisingly, she drops the knife from my throat.

I too lower my—her—dagger and place it in her expectant, outstretched hand. She moves to pull away, to leave me and this conversation, but I catch her wrist. She stills at my touch, and my eyes lock with hers as I guide her hand, and the knife clutched within it, to my chest. The blade lined with my own blood meets the fabric of my shirt, and her knuckles brush my chest as I wipe her dagger clean.

“So much for not spilling royal blood,” I sigh.

She exhales slowly. “It was going to happen sooner or later.”

“So, I should get used to this?”

“You should expect this.”

I smile. “Then I look forward to our next encounter.”

I wink and she rolls her eyes before slipping my dagger back into its sheath and returning her own into the band of her pants. And then she’s brushing past my arm and heading for her door.

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