Page 42 of Powerless

I take a deep breath and force a stronger smile. “I could say the same about you,” I say, pointing at his blond hair full of petals. He returns my grin as he runs a hand through it, doing little to rid his hair of the flowers creating a crown atop his head.

“Well, now we’re matching,” he says simply, his eyes watchful. I look away, still feeling his gaze roaming over my face as I try my hardest to look calm, collected.

“You look...” He pauses, trying to find the right word. “Anxious.”

So much for calm and collected.

I offer him a quick smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Well, let’s hope anxiety suits me as well.”

“Is it the interviews that have you nervous, or is it something else?” His words are soft, curious.

Concerning.

My gaze slides to his before quickly looking away at the sight of the king’s eyes staring back at me. “Just the interviews, and the possibility that I’ll make a fool out of myself.”

“You’ll be fine. Especially after your...incident with my brother in Loot.” He gives me that charming grin of his. “You know the people are still talking about you.”

I’m about to respond when my face is suddenly bathed in sunlight. I hadn’t realized the tunnel of trees had ended, leaving me blinking rapidly in the blinding light.

But the sun is gone as quickly as it came. The group quiets when we step into the shadow cast by the Bowl. We make our way into one of the many large, cement tunnels leading into the arena, our footsteps echoing off cold stone walls until we are spit out onto the lowest level of the stadium.

My head swivels back and forth, eyes wide as I take it all in. Wrapping around the entire oval arena are dozens of wide rows covered in concrete benches that climb up the side of the Bowl. My eyes sweep over the thick glass encasing each section of the stands.

No, not glass.

Mute.

I’ve only briefly learned of the rare material invented by the Scholars, let alone seen it myself. By means that are far too complicated for me to understand, this glass look-alike prevents the Elites within the stands from using their powers, so as not to interfere with the Trials.

I tear my eyes away from the odd phenomenon and continue perusing the Bowl with my wide gaze. Though we stand at ground level beside the bottom row of benches, the sand-packed arena lies below us. I walk over to the thick, metal railing at the edge of the path and look down. It’s easily a fifteen-foot drop to the arena floor below us, packed with sand.

The Pit.

And that is where the Trials will take place while hundreds of Ilyans watch from the stands encircling us.

The Imperials begin herding us along the path until we come to a stop beside a wide room jutting out into the pathway, surrounded by thick glass. Peering inside, I can see three large and luxurious chairs, all sitting on a polished wood floor and looking so at odds with the gray, cold concrete covering the rest of the Bowl.

The king’s box.

So this is where he sits comfortably and watches us die.

To my surprise, the Imperials begin pushing us into the glass room, one by one. We all file into a line and watch as Kai strides to the far corner. I crane my neck to see him lift a hidden latch from the floor, swinging open a trap door before jumping down easily.

A hand on my shoulder urges me forward.

Where are we going?

I walk through the stuffy room and make my way to the hole in the floor that awaits me. The room beneath is cast in shadows, making it impossible to see how far down the floor is.

I sigh before stepping off the edge and into the darkness.

My feet hit the ground with a soft thud. After estimating that the drop was nearly seven feet, I’m thankful that the ground beneath my sandals is plush. But with the shifting mat beneath me and my bent knees to lessen the impact of the drop, I can’t help but stumble forward into something solid.

No. Not something. Someone.

Strong arms wrap around me before I feel the rumble of deep laughter coming from the broad chest I slammed into. Large hands are placed firmly on my hips and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can just make out the familiar curve of a smirk on Kai’s lips as he looks down at me.

“Sloppy footwork, Gray. I’d hate to be your partner on the dance floor.”

---