Page 39 of Powerful

‘Everyone is told that Kai is the most powerful Elite in decades,’ she says softly. ‘And yet, here you are, sharing his power and living in the slums.’

‘Hiding in the slums,’ I spit bitterly.

She sighs, sounding shockingly frustrated. ‘Do you really think the king would kill you if he knew you were a Wielder?’

‘I think he would see me as nothing but a threat tohim,’ I say dully. ‘Just like the Fatals. He only kept one of each and now has a Wielder who happens to be a son he can control.’

She studies me as though I’m one of her rows of stitches. ‘You two seem oddly similar. In more ways than just ability.’

‘Well, he’s done a lot of shit. And I’m just pretty shitty.’ I take another bite of honey-drenched dough. ‘I’m sure we’d be the best of friends under different circumstances.’

Her responding hum tells me she agrees. And, apparently, that is the only answer she cares to offer. She’s suddenly very distracted by the trail of curls falling across her shoulders, and, now, so am I. What did I say to her about them? Ah, yes. Something profoundly akin to them beingbouncy.

What a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. As if I don’t admire the shine of each ringlet, or the way they cling to one another in an intertwining hug. As if I can’t stop myself from staring at the column of her neck when she pulls that curly hair into a messy knot, the forgotten strands like swirling ink down her back.

As if I can stop myself from admiring how easily a laugh parts her soft lips. The way the sun warms herskin, as though she was meant to be cloaked in light. It’s how joy bubbles out of her in the form of clapping hands and endearing rambles. It’s the way my thoughts never cease to wander towards her, my heart falling senselessly after.

And I fear that I’ve admired every inch of her.

‘I have something for you.’

She follows this admission with a soft giggle that is equally uneasy and intoxicating. Leaning back on my forearms, I voice my wishful thinking. ‘I do hope it’s a bed.’

‘Nope,’ she answers far too cheerily. ‘Even better. I hope.’

‘Little else is more appealing than sleeping through the night.’ I look up at her fidgeting form, crossed legs bouncing rhythmically. ‘But give it your best shot, hun.’

A look of immense distress contorts her face. ‘Well, now I’m nervous!’ She lifts a hand. ‘That’s it. I can’t give it to you now. It’s not ready.’

‘Plagues, what have I done?’ I mutter. ‘Come on, Dena. Let me see it. I’m sure it’s… fabulous – or whatever other fluffy word you like to use.’

Her eyes flutter shut when she takes a deep breath. So ridiculously dramatic, this one. ‘Okay, okay.’ It’swith a sudden determination that her eyes open. ‘I’ve been working on something during my free time at the castle. And I noticed that you don’t have anything to carry your knives in. Soooo,’ she draws out the word, ‘I figured I’m pretty qualified to help you with that – I mean, I made Pae’s vest, after all, and that has played a pivotal part in her thieving career—’

‘The sheer number of words you speak each day is astounding—’

‘—because the design is unique to her needs,’ she finishes, unfazed by my interruption. ‘So, I did the same for you.’

After I’ve nodded my encouragement several times, she finally slips something from the cloth bag beside her. She displays the item with outstretched arms as I run my gaze over the thick fabric paired with the same white leather used to make my Imperial mask.

I blink, bewildered by the beautiful weapons belt before me, equipped with uniquely sized holsters for each of my knives. Reaching out, I trace the patches of leather with my fingers, feeling each careful stitch and stretch of durable fabric.

I feel her eyes on me as I sit up slowly, taking the gift gently from her hands. ‘Do you…’ She trails off beforestarting again with a small smile. ‘Do you like it? I can extend the pockets for each knife, if you like. I wasn’t really sure how long to make them…’

‘No.’ My voice is quietly firm. ‘No, I want it exactly as you made it. It’s perfect.’

‘Really?’ she breathes hesitantly even as her face lights up. ‘Better than a bed?’

I look at her, allowing myself to share the smile reserved only for her. ‘Far better than a bed.’

She claps, and I’m no longer surprised by the action. Nor am I embittered by the joy that caused it. All I am is fortunate enough to witness it.

‘Oh, good!’ She sighs, sagging in relief. When I can do nothing but stare at it, she waves an insistent hand. ‘Well, go on! Try it on!’

I oblige with little argument and swing the belt round me, buckling it quickly. It sits low on my hips, allowing easy access to the knives that will soon line it.

I shake my head in disbelief. ‘This may be the only thing anyone has ever gotten me, but I’m quite certain nothing could be better.’

‘That sounds like a challenge,’ she remarks with a typical smile. ‘The next gift will have to be even more spectacular.’

---