Page 90 of Powerless

“It’s getting hard to keep track of your many skills.” Another grunt of pain before he adds, annoyed, “Plagues, Paedyn, what the hell is this stuff?”

A snort escapes me. “Who knew the future Enforcer was such a baby?”

I lather more salve onto his skin, and he grits his teeth. “And who knew the girl from the slums was capable oftorture.”

“Oh, please. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You know, I’m not entirely convinced that you’re not trying to kill me.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “So, you don’t trust me after all?”

“I don’t trustthat,” he says, throwing a skeptical glance at the green paste I’m rubbing onto his wound.

I laugh loudly, shaking my head at him.

He suddenly goes still at my touch, his eyes dancing between mine with a small smile pulling at his lips.

I clear my throat. “So.” I’m grasping for anything to say before finally deciding to let him do the talking. “You heard about my home so tell me about yours. What was it like growing up in the palace?”

He watches me, his expression blank. “Living in a castle is not as appealing as it may seem. It can be cold, crowded. Not to mention that you’re constantly watched by prying eyes.” His lips twitch into the hint of a smile. “But Kitt and I, we made it a home. Plagues, we ruled the place. We made—” He hisses through his teeth, cutting off his words. “Shit, Paedyn, now I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me.”

“Oh, come on,” I laugh, adding more salve to his wound. “It only stings.”

He pokes me in the stomach, carefully avoiding the gash there. “You got to slap me when your wound stung, so I think I’m allowed to complain a little.”

I give him a look. “This is alittlecomplaining?” He narrows his eyes at me, but I can see the amusement in them. “I’m sorry,” I sigh. “Continue with your story and yourlittle bitof complaining.”

“As I was saying,” he continues with a huff, “Kitt and I made the palace a home. We made friends with the servants, raced through the halls, ditched balls to sneak into the cellar and get drunk so we could forget about everything and simply laugh until the sun came up. We’ve probably fought in nearly every room in the palace. Twice.”

He grits his teeth when I pack more salve onto the wound and shoots me an annoyed look before continuing. “We needed it though. The constant sparring or stupid pranks we’d pull on poor Gail and the rest of the unsuspecting servants. Because when we weren’t laughing and distracting ourselves, we were both training and studying. Though that looked very different for the both of us.”

He looks past me to the blue sky painted above, his gray eyes scanning the clouds as he says flatly, “I don’t remember my life before I became the future Enforcer. I don’t remember a day when all the tests and trials and training began. It feels as though it’s always been that way.” He lets out a humorless laugh, sighing as he says, “Fate is a funny, fickle thing, offering you no choice in how you live.”

I’ve stopped rubbing in the salve and am instead staring intently at him. “And your training? What was that like?”

He sighs a heavy sort of sigh, one that makes me wonder exactly what he’s endured in his short lifetime. “Kitt and I’s upbringing looked very different. Where the future king’s training consisted of tutoring and education on how to lead his kingdom one day, mine was more...hands-on. As the future Enforcer, I didn’t just strategize battles, I fought in them. I didn’t just learn the art of torture, I endured it.”

My hands hover above his chest. “You...endured it?”

He studies me for a moment, seeming to decide what he wants to say before settling with a simple, “Yes. Often.”

“Who,” I swallow, “who did that to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a slight smile, spitting my own words back at me from last night.

So I do the same to him. “If it doesn’t matter, then tell me.”

His smile widens. “Good to hear that you listen to me when I speak, Gray.”

“That wasn’t an answer,” I say softly.

He blows out a breath, his smile vanishing. “My...the king took it upon himself to train me regularly. I had other tutors and generals of course, but when I wasn’t with them, I was with my father. Let’s just say that his methods were...severe.”

I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know what it was that the king did to his son, what horrors he put him through. It makes me sick. And yet, I shouldn’t be surprised. He killed my father after all, and it’s my hatred for the king that has me needing to know what other twisted crimes he’s committed. So, I slowly ask, “What did he do?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Gray, I don’t think—”

“Please,” I cut in quietly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m asking you to if you are willing.”

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