So, I swallow my pride and let him carry me. Let him stride down each hall with me in his arms and dozens of Imperials buzzing around us. I fight my smile when they barely bat an eye in our direction.
Before I know it, the Imperial sets me on my bed, grumbling something about sending for a Healer. I wait until the sound of his footsteps grows distant before bolting off the mattress and throwing open the doors of my wardrobe.
I tear through the dresses and fancy training gear to a shelf in the back. Pants and comfy shirts are neatly folded there, the work of Ellie and her constant cleaning. Reaching under a stack of cotton shirts, my fingers brush against familiar rough fabric.
My heart squeezes as I pull out the vest I’ve kept hidden away. Its olive fabric is dull, and yet, I’ve never seen anything more perfect. I run my fingers along the pockets lining both the inside and outside of the vest, making it the ideal accessory for a thief.
I take a deep breath before slipping it on over my cut tank now slicked with sweat. Then I grab a new pair of boots and am about to slip them on when the door creaks open, revealing a stout man who can only be the Healer. “I heard you were injured?”
“Yes,” I blurt before putting on a show of stumbling towards him. “It’s my foot.”
“I see.” The man waddles over, gesturing for me to sit on the bed. I consider knocking him out before deciding to take advantage of his quick healing first. He gently takes my foot in his hands, and I watch as his fingers dance over the jagged cuts crawling up my ankle. The sight of my flesh knitting back together sends memories of my father flooding into my thoughts, paining me more than the injury.
I blink them away when the Healer finishes, leaving only faint pink lines as evidence of my wounds. “Well, if that is all—”
I slip my dagger out from under the pillow beside me, and the Healer is out cold when the hilt of it connects with his temple. I try my best to soften his fall, but he nearly crushes me as he comes crashing to the floor. I step over his body, slipping on my boots and whispering my thanks though he will never hear it.
I silently slip into the hallway. The Imperials think I’m safely in my room, whining about my wound, and though that image infuriates me, I’d like to keep it that way. If I’m seen, my cover is blown.
Luckily, I have lots of practice at going unseen.
I’m on the balls of my feet as I creep down the hallway, prepared to jump into a room or change directions at any sign of movement. I dart down halls, avoiding the large, more frequently used ones as best I can.
The few Imperials that happen to cross my path are distracted and easily evaded as I head towards my escape—the gardens. It’s the closest exit to where I am, as well as the only one that is likely unguarded. With the current chaos causing the castle to be undermanned as it is, I’m betting that the exit will be far from every Imperial’s mind.
And I was right.
I reach the door leading to the beautiful landscape beyond and swing it open. The rain is relentless, continuing its fall from the cloudy sky above. I hurry through the paths lined with flowers of every color, size, and shape. Then I’m breezing past the fountain where Kitt and I nearly splashed half of the water out at each other—
Kitt.
I push the thought of him and my betrayal away, focusing all my attention on making it back to Loot as quickly as possible. Which won’t be quick at all, considering I’ll have to make it there on foot.
I’m back on the path leading towards the Bowl, making my way to the one leading towards Loot. I’m panting, legs pumping, as I sprint once more down the tree-lined path. Grief and anger mix with adrenaline, making me feel equally energized and exhausted all at once.
The Bowl looks more daunting than ever before. Metal beams and concrete tower over me, and the shouts and sounds of the struggle within only add to its intimidating presence. Every citizen who hasn’t joined the fight must be long gone by now, leaving the Resistance and Imperials to battle within the arena.
I pass a tunnel leading into the Bowl. And then another.
I keep my eyes on the road home as it draws closer and closer.
The broad figure of a man staggers out onto the path I’m so desperately trying to get to. He’s clutching at his head, though I can’t make out any of his features as I blink rapidly in the rain.
All I know is that he is in my way.
He turns, hand still pressed to his temple, and spots me. I don’t bother slowing my pace. Whoever this man is, I won’t hesitate to take him down if he tries to stop me.
I’m running, getting closer with every step, all while squinting through the rain as I try to get a clear view of his face.
He’s smiling at me.
It’s the kind of smile that sends a shiver down your spine. The kind of smile that is anything but kind. The kind of smile that tells me this man knows exactly who I am.
My feet falter. Less than a dozen yards separate us now.
And that’s when I see it.
I see green eyes, colder than the rain soaking through my thin clothing.
I see golden hair, duller than the cloudy sky.
I see lips twisted in a smile, wickeder than the storm raging above us.
“Ah, Paedyn Gray,” he calls to me over the whipping wind, his voice sharp and silky all at once. “Or should I call you a Resistance member? An Ordinary? A betrayer?”
I step closer, though I already know exactly who stands before me.
I see the king.
Anger isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion coursing through me when I look at this man—this monster, this murderer.
His eyes are crazed, his hair bloody from a deep gash near his temple still dripping blood. How he managed to get away from the fighting mob inside the Bowl is beyond me. And yet, here he is, stumbling right into my path. Stumbling alone.
The king is completely alone.
I almost want to thank the Plague for this gift. Almost.
I continue striding forward, refusing to run from him, from this opportunity. The sound of sliding steel sings through the rumbling thunder as he draws a sword from the sheath at his side.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked that I figured it out,” he croons, causing my blood to boil. “I knew this was coming. You wheedled your way into my na?ve son’s head, his heart, and got what you needed for your little Resistance. And as for knowing you are an Ordinary, well, I’ve known for quite some time now.” A smile twists his face at the look of shock on mine. “Not to mention that I knew who your father was, what he was a part of. I knew many things about him before his unfortunate end.” His smile is evil incarnate. “Stabbed through the chest, was it?”
I go rigid, every part of me filled with rage. But I force a cool mask over my features, ignoring his last statement and referring to his first. “And what should I call you? King or coward? Liar or murderer? All would be appropriate, don’t you think?”