“I will not see you throw away your kingdom’s respect for a girl. For that girl,” he says, voice low and lethal. “I’ll find you a different pretty plaything who isn’t a Mundane if that’s what you need.”
Once again, I’m puzzling over his clear hatred for Paedyn, and her clear hatred for him. But, knowing he won’t answer that question, I ask instead, “So you sent one of my own Imperials to spy on me? To lie to his prince and say there is something urgent?” My voice drops, and I take a step towards him. “An innocent man will lose his tongue because of the order you gave him.”
“The fact that you don’t think this is urgent alarms me.” The king’s nostrils flare in a way I’ve come to associate with punishment to follow. “I thought I trained you better than this, boy. Perhaps you need some more lessons.” At that, he almost smiles. “Your duties are to these people, your kingdom. You belong in here, a part of this dance, where everyone can see you. See their future.” His lips curl into a sneer. “Not outside playing with your pretty new toy.”
I stare him down, my blood beginning to boil. “What do you think could possibly happen between you two, hmm?” Father’s laugh is cold as he continues, “Who knows, you might just have the pleasure of killing her in the next Trial.”
Something inside of me snaps.
Power surges through my veins as every ability in the room presses down on me, begging me to release one. When I’m angered like this, it’s harder to keep control, harder to suppress all the power thrumming inside of me. The king’s words echo in my head, mocking me, making me feel weak for letting my restraint slipping away.
“I thought I trained you better than this, boy. Perhaps you need some more lessons.”
A strong hand falls on my shoulder. “Easy, Brother,” Kitt mutters under his breath before stepping between father and me. His smile seems to ease the tension like it always does. This isn’t the first fight that he has broken up between us.
Kitt clasps his hands in front of him casually, as if he hadn’t just seen Father and I nearly ready to rip each other apart. “Sorry to interrupt. Father, you look like you could use a drink. And maybe a dance or two with Mother.”
The smile he gives him is the same one he’s been offering since we were children. The smile that cries out to be called worthy in the eyes of our father. The smile he plasters on, hoping to make the king proud of him. Hoping to live up to the high expectations and fit into the giant shoes he must fill.
He’s always craved the approval, the attention, from the king. Kitt loves to be loved, and even he feels a lack of that when it comes to our own father despite the far better relationship they have. So, he will do whatever it takes to earn it.
And I don’t fault him for it. Perhaps if I hadn’t grown up with a father who tortured me with training, I would love him enough to want him to love me back. But Kitt grew up with a different version of the king, one who instructed and taught with a table of paperwork stretched between them rather than a sharp blade. One who taught him the ways of a king rather than the ways of torture. One who molded Kitt into a man rather than a monster.
Kitt places an encouraging hand on Father’s arm, urging him towards the drinks and desserts. They both toss me one final glance, one of them kind and the other quite the opposite.
Fortunately, I’ve never been one to lust after love. Especially that of our fathers. I gave up on that the day his blade met my skin for the first time.
I scan the room for Paedyn, already knowing that I won’t find her. She’s likely been carted off to her chambers to retire early for the night, by order of the king. I almost laugh at his feeble attempts to keep me away from her.
If I can’t keep myself away, there is no way in hell he can.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Kai
The Bowl is packed to the brim with people.
We could hear their shouts and stomps from the castle as we walked down the tree-lined path towards our final Trial.
For the third time, we face what could be our final day.
At least for this Trial, we weren’t drugged before being dragged to a random location first. I awoke to a bang on my door followed by a note slipped underneath it, informing me that the final Trial will be held at the Bowl.
That left me no time to even speak to Paedyn, let alone think of her before I was being silently escorted out of the castle.
We have a live audience this time, and they roar when we step inside of the large arena. Imperials press in on every side, leading us to the rail overlooking the Pit several feet down. I hear a collective intake of breath from my fellow contestants, our gazes locked on what lies below us.
It’s a maze.
The entire sandy bottom of the Pit is covered in rows of intertwined hedges and plants. The walls are dense and tall, filling the entire bottom of the oval arena.
It’s enormous.
We are ushered down the wide steps descending towards the maze. I’m the last in the line of contestants, and when my feet sink slightly into the sand, we halt.
“Welcome, young Elites, to your final Trial.”
I turn my attention to the comfy glass box sitting at the bottom of the stands, decorated with its three cushioned seats. Kitt sits to the right, his eyes scanning the maze before they seem to land on me. I see his head tip slightly, silently wishing me good luck. After nodding slowly back at him, my eyes slide to where Mother looks elegant as always, legs crossed and face relaxed as she watches her husband standing at the edge of the rail, looking down at us as he speaks.
“Though you have all made it this far,” Father continues, Tealah projecting his voice beside him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, “there can only be one winner.”
The crowd cheers, the sound like a battle cry I’m all too familiar with.
“Your last Trial is spread out before you. A maze.” Cold amusement contorts his face. “Though nothing is a simple as it seems.”
Then the maze shifts.
I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye and whip my head towards it, watching as the walls of foliage fold and reform. The hedges twist in new directions, altering the paths and creating new ones.
Blooms.
I spot them now, dozens of figures standing along the edges of the maze, arms outstretched. They’ve created this Trial for us, and they now control it.
“In order to win this Trial, thus improving your chances of winning the entirety of the Purging Trials, you must be the first contestant to make it to the center of the shifting maze.” The king pauses. “But that is not all.”
There is always a catch.
“Not only do you have to be the first contestant to reach the middle, but you must also kill the person that awaits you there.”