Kitt follows behind them, looking casual and yet every bit the future king. His gaze finds mine before flicking to Paedyn with a knowing smile on his lips. He takes the seat beside me as the king pulls out one of the heavy wooden chairs for his queen.
“Welcome to the sixth ever Purging Trials,” he booms down the table.
Mother sweeps a strand of black hair out of her eyes, saying, “And congratulations to all of you for making it here.”
“It is an honor to be chosen,” Father says. “An honor to your kingdom, your family, and yourself.” He repeats the words that have been drilled into my head since before I could understand them. “I suggest you spend your time wisely to prepare for the Trials. You never know what might be thrown at you.” His eyes land on me, silently and less than subtlety reminding me of my mission to win. “I would urge you to use your remaining time before the first Trial, as well as each week in between the next ones, to train.”
And to watch your opponents train.
I can almost see the unspoken words in his eyes. Knowing how your competition fights, learning how to read their movements and maneuvers, could be the difference between life and death.
“As well as practicing your dance steps!” Mother says warmly, as she’s always enjoying the balls far more than the bloodshed of the Trials.
Father smiles at his wife. It’s a genuine gesture, the kind he only gives away to her. “Enough talk of the Trials. Let’s eat.”
And with that, the procession of servants begins, all carrying steaming trays to the table. Dozens of dishes piled high with food are set before us. Seasoned turkey and heaps of beans are being shoveled onto plates. Gail herself brings out a tray of gooey sticky buns, setting them before Kitt and me to tease the two of us. I give her a quick wink as she walks away, rolling her eyes at me before bustling out of the room.
Kitt and I talk idly as we pass trays of food around, shooing away servants when they offer to serve us. I’m in the middle of piling turkey onto my plate when my eyes snag on Paedyn, sitting rigidly across from me. Her jaw is locked tight as if she’s trying her hardest not to let it fall open. Curious, I look down the table at Hera who is wearing a similar look of awe on her face. Even Ace, who seemed to be the better off of the three, can’t help but silently stare at the amount of food placed before us.
My gaze slides back to Paedyn who’s too busy blinking to bother eating. I can only imagine what is going through her head. Probably something along the lines of how disgusted she is at the amount of food we waste while she barely had enough to survive. As I look at the masked anger growing on her face, something tells me she’d rather go hungry tonight.
And that won’t do.
Just because we are competing against each other doesn’t mean I want to beat her by default due to her starving to death. So, I stab a piece of turkey with my fork, reach across the table, and plop it onto her plate.
Her eyes snap to mine, her face a cross between annoyance and shock. “Do you like beans?” I ask casually, and when she doesn’t answer, I pile them onto her plate anyway. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”
I lean over the table, adding potatoes to the growing pile of food on her plate as I murmur, “Are you going to make me spoon-feed you too, or can you handle feeding yourself?” With that, I smile at her in a way that will undoubtedly make her want to throw her beans, and a punch, at my face.
Her eyes burn like blue flames, practically scolding me with a glare. But just as I suspected, she reluctantly picks up her fork and shoves some beans into her mouth with her gaze pinned on me. I lean back in my chair, grinning. She could see it in my eyes that I would, in fact, spoon-feed her if she didn’t start eating, and there was no way in hell she was going to let that happen.
The next several minutes are filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and scattered conversations. Blair turns towards Kitt and me, talking about Plague knows what. In general, Kitt is a far better man than I am, and especially so when it comes to her. He talks casually while I offer my attention to the food in front of me instead.
Father’s voice suddenly cuts through the din of conversation. “So,” I look up to see he’s staring at Paedyn, intrigued, “this is the girl who saved you in the alley?”
Only after robbing me.
I can feel everyone’s eyes flick towards us, all listening in on the conversation. Paedyn gently drops her fork and stares at the king with so much intensity in her gaze that she briefly reminds me of Blair. There is a certain emotion clouding her eyes as she looks at him—an emotion she is trying to hide. I don’t have time to try and decipher it before she schools her features into neutrality with the blink of an eye.
“Yes, I did save his life. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?” She turns her attention toward me, her smile turning into a challenge.
“So you do know my title after all.” Sarcasm coats my words while a smile toys at the corners of my lips. “You know, I wasn’t sure. Because back in the alley you were calling me something very, very different.”
Her smile is all teeth. “I’m sure whatever I called you was warranted.” A pause. “And accurate.” A smile. “And deserved.”
Cocky bastard.
Her eyes, her smile, her tone—all of her screams the two words. Screams the title she’s bestowed upon me.
“And what was your title, again? The Silver Savior?” I huff out a quiet laugh. “Fitting. I know how much you love silvers.”
Paedyn’s cool smile falters at the meaning behind my words.
She’s annoyed. I’m amused.
Mother’s feelings clearly mirror Paedyn’s, because she shoots me a look before saying, “Thank you, Paedyn, for helping Kai. It did not go unnoticed by us, or the people, seeing that they wanted you in the Trials.” Paedyn dips her head and smiles softly at her, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
At the sound of my father’s voice, her smile wavers. “I must say, I’ve never met a Psychic before.” He looks at her curiously. “Your powers are...intriguing.”
Paedyn relaxes and laughs lightly. “Yes, well, my father said it’s a rare, yet small gift that not many Mundanes possess. I suppose the most useful part of my ability is that I’m not affected by the Silencers, as well as your son, it seems.” A strand of silver hair falls into her eyes, and she tucks it behind her ear absentmindedly as the rest of the table returns to their previous conversations, apparently bored with listening in on this one.
“Ah, yes, your father. Adam Gray was a great Healer. A very educated man,” Father says thoughtfully.
Paedyn goes rigid in her seat. “You,” she clears her throat, “you knew my father?”
“Yes, I did. He would come to the palace during fever season to help our own court physicians when there were too many patients to attend to.”
Paedyn nods. “Yes, I remember him doing that every winter.”