“I’m sorry, what was that, Your Majesty?” I release my hold on him, and he turns as I sweep into a mocking bow while tucking the dagger back into my boot. That earns me a solid shove that nearly has me staggering, one I return in kind while Kitt chuckles.
His dirty blond hair is far more dirty than blond at the moment, splattered with chunks of mud from rolling around in the ring. Our shirts have long been abandoned in the summer heat and, like me, sweat slicks his tanned chest.
It’s almost comical how obvious it is that we’re only half-brothers. Other than our physical differences, I lack Kitt’s caring like he lacks my callousness. He’s patient, personable, and fit for the throne like I’m fit for the battlefield.
A king where I am a killer.
“Kai, are you even listening to me?” Kitt looks equally concerned and amused as he snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Plagues, how much blood did you lose?”
I follow his gaze to see rivulets of red trailing from the wound on my arm, blood weaving between my knuckles and dripping from my fingertips. “Well, looks like Eli won’t be getting the day off after all, thanks to you.” I glance up at Kitt, expecting a remark only to find his gaze fixed on something across the grounds. “Now look who’s not paying attention.”
My eyes stray to the figure strutting towards us, training leathers clinging to her every curve and lilac hair whipping in the wind. “Oh, look. Bitchy Blair,” I breathe under my breath before she reaches us, causing Kitt to choke on a laugh.
“Hello, boys.” Her voice is like ice, cold and smooth. “How’s the training coming?” Her gaze sweeps lazily over the both of us before returning to our faces with a slight smirk twisting her lips. “Getting ready for the Trials, Kai?”
“Not that I need to prepare.”
A slow smile creeps onto her face at that. “I would think the future Enforcer would want to make a good impression on the kingdom by winning.” She’s suddenly very interested in her nails, feigning nonchalance.
I run a hand through my hair with a bored sigh. “And I plan on doing just that.”
She gives me a smile that’s anything but sweet. “I would hope so, seeing that you’re the best Elite in decades. Or so they say.”
Plagues, here we go.
Kitt takes a step forward and puts a hand to his chest like he’s been wounded. “Ouch, Blair. I’ll remember that comment when I’m king.”
“Aw, did I wound your pride, Kitt?” She offers him a fake pout before turning her attention back on me. “Besides, I personally think I’ll be winning the Trials.”
I huff out a humorless laugh before peering down at her small form. “And what makes you so sure you’ll even be competing?” I say this knowing full well that she will, in fact, be in the Trials.
With a flick of her wrist, a dagger flies from the weapons rack in response to my comment. Before I can blink, it’s suddenly suspended in the air and digging into my jugular.
“As the daughter of the general,” she steps towards me until there are mere inches between us and whispers, “I think I have a pretty good shot of getting into the games. Don’t you?” She giggles even while pressing the floating knife to my throat, further proving her point.
The buzz of dozens of powers pounds through my blood, all belonging to the other individuals training in the courtyard. I force the other abilities to fall silent, focusing on Blair’s power and the feel of it humming beneath my skin, urging me to grab hold of it. She’s a powerful Tele, and her demonstration with this dagger is the least of what she can do with her mind. I reach out to that tingling feeling that is her ability and let it wash over me, claw to the surface.
And then I become it.
Just as I did with Kitt’s Dual power of fire and water, and just as I can do with any one of the abilities surrounding me.
My smile is cold as I flip the floating dagger in mid-air, pushing it against the tough leather covering her heart with nothing but my mind. “Well, then you better get training,” I say quietly before loosening my hold on her ability, letting the dagger fall to the ground with a thud. I don’t bother saying anything more before I turn and stride towards the castle.
Kitt falls silently into step beside me, seemingly just as lost in thought as I am as we make our way back through the castle gates. With the Trials only two weeks away, it seems I’m no longer able to blissfully ignore their existence and my role within them.
The smell of roasting chicken and potatoes wafting from the kitchens is enough to steal my attention. I shoot a glance at the abnormally quiet Kitt before turning to stride through the kitchen doors.
“Afternoon, ladies.” I flash a quick smile at the cooks and servants milling around the kitchen as they prepare dinner. “Miss me?” I croon, lifting myself up onto a hard counter and leaning back on my palms. I catch the eyes of a few servant girls before they redden and turn back to their work, exchanging giggled whispers with one another.
The heat of the kitchen hits me like a wave, washing over me and coating my already slick skin—
My skin.
I run a hand through my hair before running it down my face, unbothered by the realization that I’ve been walking around without a shirt after abandoning it in the filthy ring—a habit even Father hasn’t been able to break.
Kitt’s head pops around the corner, a grin splitting his face. “I thought I smelled my favorite dish. You’re such a sweetheart, Gail.” He strides over to the cook stirring a pot full of creamy potatoes over the sweltering stove, her dark skin glistening with sweat.
She can’t help but smile at the look lighting Kitt’s face. “Oh, don’t think I did this for you, Kitty. Mashed potatoes happen to be my favorite as well.” She smiles, patting him on the cheek before turning to continue her stirring. Her eyes meet mine from where I sit atop the counter before darting to my arm and the wound I’d forgotten was still bleeding there. With a shake of her head, she says sternly, “You better not get blood on my counter, Kai.”
I crack a smile at that. “This wouldn’t be the first time.”
She shakes her head at me again, fighting a smile all the while. Gail’s been slipping us extra food and treats since we were boys running around the castle with half our clothes on—which we clearly still do. She’s witnessed far more than one fight unfold in this very kitchen over who gets the last of her sticky buns.
“You two haven’t visited me in a while,” she says, adding seasoning to her potatoes. “Getting sick of me, hmm?”
“You, yes. But never your food.” The words have barely left my mouth before a glob of potatoes comes flying at my face. I don’t have the time or energy to duck before the mash joins the matted mud and dirt.
“Never a dull moment with us, is there?” Kitt muses from where he’s leaning against a ledge, watching as I pull at the potatoes clinging to my hair.
I hop off the counter and stride over to the cook, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Always a pleasure, Gail.” I reach around her to grab an apple from its basket as I say, “I look forward to our next food fight.” After tossing one to Kitt, I rub my own apple on my pants before taking a bite.