Now it’s my turn to laugh. He cocks his head slightly to the side as he peers down at me, the corner of his mouth tilted up. Leaning in, he adds, “Maybe you should consider that detail before you decide, darling.”
Plagues, a pretty boy with pretty words.
Dangerous.
His smoky eyes sweep across my face, once again looking at me as though I’m an intriguing riddle. I refuse to fidget under his gaze as I take a step backward towards the busy street.
“I’ll keep it under consideration, darling.” I draw out the last word, mimicking him with a grin. His smile widens, displaying dimples on both of his cheeks. I force myself to ignore them as I add, “And thank you for saving me from eating cobblestone. I seem to be cursed with clumsiness.”
“Well, your clumsiness found me, so I’d hardly call it a curse,” he says simply, now leaning against the wall, hands in pockets. I smile, unable to suppress the eye roll that accompanies it. I glimpse his grin one last time before spinning on my heel and walking back onto Loot Alley, disappearing into the crowd.
My mind is reeling, replaying the observations I made of him as I make my way down Loot. The scars splattering his arms and the raw knuckles from a recent fight intrigued me the most, and it’s almost a shame I won’t discover the story that accompanies them. The thought of an Offensive Elite wearing scars almost brings a smile to my lips. Proof of weakness.
I grab the coins in my back pocket, letting them clink in my palm with a triumphant smile.
I doubt he’ll be missing these.
Chapter Five
Kai
The collared shirt I throw on is scratchy and uncomfortable, making me suddenly miss the days when I was young, and it was socially acceptable to run around half-naked.
Though, that’s ever stopped me from doing it now.
After slipping on one of my only pairs of shoes not currently caked in mud, I stride over to the door. I pass messy shelves that threaten to tip from the weight of far too many books, my desk that is currently covered in documents I’m avoiding, and the four-poster bed jutting out from the wall, the cause of several stubbed toes and incessant swearing. Sighing, I close the door on the comfort of my room, wishing desperately that I could dive onto my bed and sleep through dawn. Alas, duty calls, and it’s best not to keep him waiting.
I shove my hands into my pockets as I stroll down the white halls leading to the throne room. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows lining the corridor, causing the ornate paintings on the walls to glitter in the golden light. Far too soon for my liking, I round the corner and nod to the guards standing outside throne room before pushing open the heavy doors.
“Ah, Kai. It’s about time.” Father’s deep voice echoes down the vast length of the throne room. Its walls are decorated with large, wide windows draped in dark green silk—Ilya’s kingdom color—accompanied by the sculptured molding crawling up the walls and onto the ceiling. Currently, a long wooden table resides in the middle of the polished marble floor where the king occupies the chair at the head.
“Good, you put on a shirt.” He sighs but I see a slight smile in his eyes. “I considered telling the servant to add that detail to the message he gave you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Father, I won’t make the mistake of showing up to the throne room without a shirt. Again.” I memorize the hint of a smile on his face, not knowing the next time I’ll see it. The next time I’ll earn it.
He’s a brutal man, a Brawny who is strong physically as well as mentally. He’s stern, stubborn, and set in his ways, so seeing him offer even the faintest of smiles has me involuntarily returning a faint one of my own. Our dynamic together has always been difficult to say the least, but in moments like these, it’s easier to ignore our unpleasant past.
He clears his throat along with any emotion on his face.
And there’s the father I’m so used to.
“I have a mission for you as the future Enforcer.”
“I live to serve,” I answer flatly.
I live to kill.
My life means the end of someone else’s.
The types of missions Enforcers get sent on are anything but heroic. I’ve had dozens over the years, all part of my training to become the future executioner, commander of armies, and right-hand man to the king. Everything from battle strategies and executions to interrogations and torture fall into my line of work as the expected Enforcer.
All glimpses into my bright future.
“My informants know of a family harboring an Ordinary near Loot Alley,” Father continues, sounding slightly bored. “I need you to investigate and eradicate the problem.”
Eradicate equals execute.
After the Purging, when the Ordinaries were banished to the Scorches to protect Ilya from their disease, the king decreed that any remaining Ordinaires found in the kingdom would be executed. Three decades ago, he offered them a chance to survive if they could cross the Scorches and reach the cities of Dor and Tando on the other side where they would be no harm. But the king’s mercy only lasted that day of the Purging, and I now deliver death on his behalf.
“Of course,” I say, running a hand through my hair and over my set jaw. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Kai.” He looks at me, almost gently. I haven’t seen that look since I was a boy, and even then, it was a rarity reserved for the few times I pleased him during my training. “No one envies the job of the Enforcer. It’s brutal. It’s bloody. But the Plague has given you a rare gift. Your ability as a Wielder is very powerful, and you’ll serve this kingdom well one day.” He pauses before adding, “I’ve made sure of that.”
He has indeed.
Training has been my whole life, my whole purpose. Rather than having a single ability to manifest and master, I’ve spent years learning how to control dozens. But I honed my body as much as my abilities, becoming a weapon myself. How to use and kill with every weapon at my disposal has been ingrained into my brain—a reflex I have refined.
But I can’t take all the credit. No, it’s the king who made me what I am today. The king who took it upon himself to aid in both my physical and mental training. After learning my weaknesses, he ensured they were eradicated. And while I’ve learned to block out most memories of the training I endured as a boy, I can do nothing to ignore the image of my father’s cool face paired with the same chilling words I’ve heard all my life.
“If you cannot endure suffering, you are unfit to dole it out, Enforcer.”
I’ve fought in battles, initiated interrogations, and conducted torture all while Kitt sat in on countless meetings, devised treaties, and spent his days beside a kinder king than the one I know.