Page 38 of Powerless

“Always a pleasure,” I say, striding to my own room across the hall.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t say the same.” I see the flash of a grin before she steps into her room, swinging the door shut behind her.

As soon as I’m on the other side of my own door, I’m pacing around the room that just so happens to be right across from hers. My fingers stray to my neck, feeling the sticky warmth of my blood there.

This girl might be the death of me. Literally.

ChapterThirteen

Paedyn

Sweat rollsdown my forehead and clings to my lashes.

I am so out of shape.

After three long days of training, my body is sore and screaming at me to stop. My years of living on the streets have taken their toll, leaving me weaker than I realized despite my regular running from Imperials and scaling chimneys.

I lower my head and bring the hem of my dirt-stained tank to my eyes, huffing as I wipe the beads of sweat from my face. I’m filthy. And sadly, it’s the most normal I’ve felt since I arrived at the palace.

A tall, padded tree looms before me, the indentations from my fists still visible in the rough cushions wrapping around the trunk. I’ve been in the training yard for hours now, along with the other contestants all doing various exercises or sparring against one another.

The yard is nothing like the crude, muddy ring I grew up training in. I turn and lean against the padded tree, sweeping my gaze across the dozen large rings dotting the grassy yard where most of my competition is currently residing.

Wide, wooden racks filled with weapons and shields, all new and waiting to be used, accompany each of the rings. I’ve never seen anything like it. So many weapons at my disposal. So many weapons going to waste.

My eyes skim over the training yard. Everywhere I look, my fellow competitors are exercising, stretching, sparing, and just as dirty and drenched in sweat as I am. They all seem to avoid training with their abilities for the time being, likely waiting to put their powers on display until the interviews.

Just the mere thought has me anxiously spinning the ring on my thumb. This time tomorrow, we’ll be showing off to the kingdom of Ilya while trying to win their favor. From the little I’ve learned from Ellie, the interviews are how the people choose who they want to support in the Trials. It’s a time for the Elites to display their strength, talk themselves up, and try to earn the people’s votes.

And that is exactly what I need to do: win the people over. They play a vital part in these twisted games, and the more votes a contestant gets, the more it boosts their score.

I sigh and breathe in the humid air, smelling of fresh grass, dirt, and more than a hint of sweat. I’m relieved to be training, to be doing something with my hands to keep my mind from wandering to dangerously detrimental thoughts. Such as the Trials and the possibility—the likelihood—of my impending death.

I’m yanked from my thoughts when my eyes land on tanned skin. With the afternoon sun beating down on us, the boys have long abandoned their sweaty shirts. And it’s annoyingly...distracting, to say the least.

Kitt and Kai circle each other in a ring, smiling as they exchange words, seeming to be sparring verbally before they begin doing so physically. The brothers look comfortable, content in this moment together.

Though the future king isn’t a contestant in the Trials, that doesn’t seem to stop him from training and eating with us as though he is one. I’ve kept my distance from both the brothers and my other competitors, though the tension between all of us only grows with each passing day.

My gaze wanders back to the boys, tracing the identical dark tattoo swirling just above their hearts. Even from this distance, I can make out Ilya’s symbol of strength etched into their skin.

The crest itself is simple, consisting of thick swirls all connected in a sideways diamond. It supposedly represents the different powers and how they all work together, while also representing the four landmarks that surround Ilya. There’s Plummet Mount to the North, the Shallows Sea to the West, the Scorches Desert to the East, and the Whispers Forest to the South—all coming together to create a diamond around the city.

I blink and tear my eyes from the brothers before turning back towards the tree, suddenly feeling the urge to hit something again. I spin and land a solid kick into the thick pads, resounding in a satisfyingthunk. Sweat rolls down my body in rivulets, even after stripping down to my thin tank, now damp and clinging to me uncomfortably. My slim, black pants are hot to the touch under the cooking sun, and I roll them nearly to my knees, tempted to tear the damn things off.

I hammer blows into the matted tree until my knuckles are red and raw before leaning my sweaty forehead against the cushion, panting slightly. The mat stifles my groan before I force myself to make my way to the closest weapons rack.

My fingers dance along the beautiful throwing knives lying innocently on the rack. The smoothness, the sheer sharpness of these knives has me itching to throw them. I turn my attention to the target ten yards ahead of me and begin burying several knives deep into the rough wood. I fall into a rhythm, letting my body relax with each knife I let fly. I feel focused. I feel dazed.

I missed this.

I let my mind wander, watching as the knives meet their mark. Suddenly, I’m standing in my backyard again, throwing small, measly blades into the rough bark of a tree. My father paces behind me, drilling me with questions. Questions about my surroundings, about things I should observe in seconds, even while my mind focuses on the blades sinking into their target.

I can almost hear my father’s footsteps in the dirt behind me.

The familiar whoosh of a knife cutting through the air has me ducking instinctively, feeling the whisper of a blade above my head before looking up just in time to see it sink into the target.

A beautiful throw.

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