Page 71 of Powerless

“And yet, you can know something and not believe it.” My voice sounds shaky, and I hope he believes it to be from fear and not anger. “You have a choice, Kitt. You always have a choice.”

He chuckles, but it’s void of humor. “If I always had a choice, then I wouldn’t be in this safe room. I’d be out there, fighting alongside my brother.”

My eyes fall to the flames flickering over his fingers, betraying his frustration. I lift my head and take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “Do you not want to be king?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I do not want to be a coward.” I force myself to hold his gaze, seeing all the confusion and consideration reflected in it. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“Yes, well, you’ll find that I often ask questions that I shouldn’t,” I say, looking away from him.

“Don’t stop,” he says quickly, quietly. My gaze slides back towards him to rest on the top button of his shirt. “Your questions, your thoughts, your contradictions—I want to hear them all.”

I open my mouth to reply when a gust of cool air breezes over my face, and the thick metal door swings open with a clang. My head snaps to the handful of Imperials pouring into the room, heading for the king and queen.

“The ballroom is secured, Your Majesty.” The guard’s voice is gravelly, his head bowed towards the king who nods curtly.

If I wanted to look into his eyes, I’m sure I would see all the questions swimming in them. Questions about how many dead, how many Ordinaries captured, how much damage. But he doesn’t dare voice his thoughts, not in front of an audience and especially not when he’s still trying to conceal what is truly happening.

The king stands from his large, wooden chair and clears his throat, further quieting the already hushed room. “What happened today was unfortunate, and I can assure you it will not happen again.” I nearly snort at the empty promise. “But we will not let this incident scare us, cripple us, control us. And for that reason, the Trials will continue as scheduled.”

At that, shocked murmurs ripple through the crowd, though I can’t say I’m surprised. He needs to keep up his strong facade, show no fear. “We are Elites. We are power.” The king pauses, scanning the crowded room with that green gaze I avoid. “Honor to your kingdom. Honor to your family. Honor to yourself.”

The cluster of people around me echoes his words, reciting Ilya’s motto. My lips move with them, playing the part of the contestant, the one who is honored to be here. The one who is an Elite just like them.

The guards begin ushering guests and nobility out of the sticky room, and I’m nearly trampled by pointy heels and polished shoes from where I still sit on the floor before I scramble to my feet.

“I wish I could walk you to your room, but unfortunately, I’ll be trading this stuffy room for another one. Father will likely have Kai and I in meetings right up until the first Trial begins, discussing theeventsthat occurred tonight.” Kitt’s voice is strained, tired.

“But the guards will make sure you arrive safely to your room, not that there is any real threat now.” His eyes slide down to the dagger hugging my thigh, on display for all to see. “And if there was a threat, I’m sure you could handle yourself just fine.” He offers me a smile that I barely manage to return.

His eyes drift from me to land on something else near the back of the room. I follow his gaze only to find that the king and queen are staring right back at me. The king is watching through narrowed eyes, and it takes all my strength and training not to throw the same look his way.

“I’ll see you after the Trial.” Kitt’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Iwillsee you after the Trial. You expect to survive this, remember?”

I duck my head and smile despite myself.

If I make it out of this first Trial alive, I know exactly what I’m going to do.

I’m going to find the Resistance.

And thanks to the curly-haired boy and the note I nicked off him, I know exactly where they will be.

“See you then,” I say to that top button of his shirt before briefly meeting his eyes. They hold a certain warmth and worry, looking less and less like his father’s with every blink.

I’m shoved towards the door in a current of human bodies and swept out into the hallway. The corridors are teeming with guards and guests, all scurrying from one place to another. I’m herded down the hallway, swallowed by the sea of people around me. We pass the cracked doors of the ballroom, and through them, I can see rubble and red painting the floors.

My curiosity refuses to release me from its clutches.

It’s not hard to slip away from the Imperials, the group. I’ve mastered the art of going unnoticed and overlooked. Soon I’m pushing open the ballroom doors, the guards completely oblivious in the mayhem.

I’m greeted with gore. Well, the remains of it. Dark blood still splotches parts of the floor, most of it already scrubbed clean with jets of water by the Hydros milling about, leaving nothing but pearly stone in their wake.

Teles are clearing the ballroom of the heavy chunks of rubble, and Gusts wield the air around them to blow all the debris and dust from the floor. In no time at all, the room will be fixed, restored to its pristine state. As if nothing happened.

I’m about to slip back out the door when a mass of messy black hair catches my eye. He’s sitting—no,slumpingon a large slab of stone near the far end of the ballroom, dirty and drenched with blood.

My heart hammers against my ribcage.

He’s hurt. And more importantly, why do I care?

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