Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy)

I’m almost certain I’m not an Ordinary. My power may actually be the ability to lie effortlessly. Lie about what I am, who I trust, and how happy I am to be here.

Yes, the Trials are a series of physical games, but they are just as deadly when it comes to the mental ones. I need to win over the people, convince them that I love these Trials as much as they do. I want their votes to stay alive, but I need their votes if I want to win this bloody thing.

I glance around the dinner table, taking in the stiff shoulders and clipped conversation. The tension in the room is nearly suffocating, choking us into an awkward silence filled mostly with chewing. It’s safe to say that we’ve become antsy as of late. So much so that a fight broke out between Ace and Braxton in the training yard, one that the former unsurprisingly initiated. I can’t imagine what Ace must have done to crack Braxton’s patient composure, but the brawl took nearly four Imperials to break up, all but piling on top of the two contestants.

My eyes slide over my opponents slowly, stopping on the green gaze already staring at me. I suck in a breath, steeling myself against the rush of rage I feel every time I look at the king—

No, not the king.

Kitt stares back at me with eyes so like his father’s that I have to blink the image of the king away, forcing myself to focus on the boy in front of me instead. His smile is warm, his eyes wandering over my face. I return the action before quickly looking away, desperate to avoid his gaze as my eyes crash into a familiar pair.

I’m suddenly swallowed in the storm that is his steely gray gaze framed by dark lashes. Kai tilts his head slightly, smiling at me in a way that has me spinning the ring on my thumb nervously.

I hope he’s losing his mind trying to puzzle me out like I am him.

Kai’s gaze flicks to my thumb and the ring I’m now spinning on it. There’s a glint in his eyes when he leans across the table towards me. “Something making you nervous, Gray?”

Plagues, how can one person be so equally infuriating and infatuating?

“And what would give you the impression that I’m nervous?”

“Hmm,” he hums, running a hand over his rough jaw. “Should I start with the fact that you’re spinning that ring or the more obvious one being that you’re clutching a knife?”

I blink at him before looking down. There is, in fact, a steak knife gripped in my fist, though I’m not sure when found its way there. I stare at it, huffing out a laugh before uncurling my fingers from the handle. When my gaze finally meets his, it’s searching, softer than before.

And annoyingly enough, I’m mirroring that same look he’s giving me, though we are seeing very different things.

I see a boy who is confusing and captivating, cocky and calculating. But with every new detail I discover about him, the less I think I know. He has a soft spot only for those he loves dearly, that much is clear. But he’s built walls, guarded himself, slipped on masks, making him annoyingly difficult to decipher.

My mind wanders to our fight, to the feel of his hands on me, steady and strong. Watching him fight is like watching a dancer, one who feels the music in their soul, their very bones. He was born for battle. Raised to kill.

And I need to remember that.

I’m jolted from my thoughts when a servant reaches to grab my plate. Out of pure instinct, my fingers itch to snatch a roll or two before they are whisked away. I’m still not used to having regular, let alone nourishing, meals every day, and I find myself constantly fighting my thieving instincts when they scream at me to grab whatever food I can get my hands on.

Chairs scrape against the marble floor as those around me stand to leave. An airy, delicate voice calls out over the commotion, and we all stop to turn towards the sound. The queen has her hands folded neatly in front of her, clasped over her pristine navy gown, shimmering in the setting sunlight.

She smiles at us and the twinkle in her eyes reminds me vaguely of Kai. “Only a few more days until the first ball! Ladies, I trust you all have selected a gown, or you’ve spoken to your maids about having one prepared.”

I have most definitely done neither of those things yet.

“Oh, and don’t forget to be practicing your dancing,” the queen adds with a smile. “I trust you’ll want to make a good impression on the people.”

Oh, I’ll definitely make an impression.

She dismisses us with a nod, and I head swiftly for the door, intending to slip back to my room and seek Ellie’s council on my gown.

“Paedyn.”

My feet falter, slowing me to a stop. The warmth in that voice and the use of my name tell me it’s not Kai behind me.

No, it’s his brother.

I’ve turned on my heel and am now watching Kitt stroll towards me, his blond hair messy and his smile charming. I swallow when he steps close to me, when he looks at me with those emerald eyes he shares with a murderer.

“Hey,” he says warmly. “Mind if I walk you to your room?”

Yes.

“Not at all,” I hear myself say through the teeth I’m flashing at him.

We start walking down the hall, heading for the contestants’ wing of the castle. “I have yet to congratulate you on your interview,” he says with a pinch of pride in his voice. “Didn’t I say you’d do just fine?”

I think back to the interviews when I’d managed to make a mess of the one thing I was expected to say.

“Survival. I expect to survive this.”

I almost laugh at the thought. “Well, it’s good to know that the future king won’t have my head for screwing up his kingdom’s motto.”

I bite my tongue, but it’s too late to stop the words that have already tumbled from my mouth.

He laughs.

The sound is rich, flooding me with relief. He rubs a hand behind his neck, still chuckling as he says, “Actually, that was my favorite part.”

I throw him a bemused look. “Was it now?”

“Yes.” The laughter leaves his voice when he stops to look at me, halting us in the middle of the hallway. “It was the most real thing anyone’s ever said in those interviews.”

I search his face, trying to ignore the flash of his father I see. “You mean it was the stupidest thing anyone’s ever said in those interviews.”

His warm chuckle is echoing off the walls once again. “Perhaps.” He pauses, peering down at me. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you were wrong when you said you expected to survive this, and I admire you for voicing how you truly feel.”

I’m so shocked by the sincerity in his words that I huff out a laugh. “Then you must admire me often because I tend to speak my mind far more than I should.”

I do admire you often.

His eyes seem to speak those five words as they search mine, voicing something he never intended to. And it’s the first time that I can meet his gaze and not see the king gazing back at me.

Clearing my throat, I turn and continue heading down the hallway again. Kitt is by my side when we come to a halt in front of my room, and I’m already pushing open the door as I say, “Thank you for walking with me.” I pause to give him a small smile over my shoulder. “Now I can say I’ve been escorted by the future king.”

I’m stepping through the doorframe when words leave him in a rush. “Yes, and if you’ll let me, I’ll do it again.”

I spin around, finding him suddenly right behind me. “What?”

His face splits into a smile that seems almost too shy to be worn by a royal. “Miss Gray, will you be my partner to balls?”

I nearly choke on the next breath I suck in. And yet, instead of answering his question, a pointless one of my own falls from my lips with a breathy laugh. “Since when have I been Miss Gray?”

A sly smile replaces his shy one, reminding me briefly of his brother. “Since you started referring to me as ‘the future king.’”

“And you don’t like that? Me calling you the future king, that is.” My curiosity forces the question from my mouth since I assumed he was quite attached to the title and the power accompanying it.

“I’d rather not be called by a title I haven’t earned or lived up to yet,” he says simply.

“That’s why I called you the future king.”

He smiles, content to let the silence stretch between us before he finally says, “You never answered my question, Miss Gray.”

I hear the offer in his voice, see the silent question in those eyes I keep avoiding. Say yes to being his partner, and we will simply be Kitt and Paedyn. Say no, and the titles remain.

Say yes, and I play the part.

Say no, and I pass up the opportunity to please the people.

The thought of hanging off the future king’s arm and looking up at the similar face of my father’s killer isn’t personally pleasant, but it would be for the people of Ilya. I would undeniably have their attention—a terrifying yet tempting thought.

A smile lifts my lips at the image of a former Slummer and future ruler hand in hand, the perfect picture of polar opposites.

The most powerful man paired with the most powerless woman.

“It would be an honor to be your partner, Kitt,” I say softly, smiling slightly.

Play the part.

Kitt chuckles, sounding relieved. “I was hoping you would say that, Paedyn.”

“Ellie. Help. Please.”

I’m staring at my wardrobe, driving myself mad looking at all the colors and styles of gowns hanging inside. “Which one should I wear for the ball? I need to make a good impression—”

“Yes, you do, and you won’t with one of those dresses,” Ellie cuts me off, laughing softly.

I tip my head back and groan. “What’s wrong with one of these?” I gesture to the multiple dazzling dresses at my disposal.

“Those,” she points at the wardrobe, “are no ball gowns. Though, you’d certainly make an impression if you wore one of them. Just not a good one.”

“So, what now?” I can’t keep the irritation from bubbling out of me.

Clearly, Ellie noticed because she says softly, “We’ll need to have a dress made for you. Immediately. I know several excellent seamstresses who could fix you up a beautiful gown in no time, you’ll just need to pick out the style and shade of green.”

Apparently, it is common knowledge that the women tend to wear green gowns to these balls, seeing that emerald is Ilya’s kingdom color. It isn’t a set rule, but something everyone simply does. Typical. Tradition.

Tiresome. 

Ellie carries on about the seamstresses she knows, how wonderful their work is.

And then it hits me. I know a seamstress, lived with one.

I’m suddenly crushed by the weight of what I’ve done. No, what I haven’t done.

Adena.

The promise I made to her rings in my head, a reminder of how I’d forgotten about her. I vowed to visit her, and yet, only remembered to do so as soon as it was convenient for me.

I’m gripped by guilt, nearly choking from its tight grasp around my throat. I swallow, silently cursing myself for my selfishness.

But this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been selfish when it comes to Adena.

I was selfish the night she found me on the roof of a shop two years ago, hurt and hysterical and hoping for someone to just understand. The rain rolled down my face as I studied the stars, mingling with my tears and stinging the fresh cuts I’d received from an Imperial that morning. Adena pulled herself over the edge of the roof before breathlessly telling me how she was certain she’d find me up there, just as she’d been certain to never again be scaling a shop.

But her smile slipped when her eyes slid to me shaking in the streaming rain, hugging my knees. I was tired. Tired of trying to be something I wasn’t while no one knew what I was.

So I decided to study the sky that night, spotting similarities between us. I was lonely in a way that I imagine the stars to be, observed by everyone yet too far to truly be seen.

And for once, I wanted to be seen by someone.

It was selfish of me to tell Adena about my past, present, and everything in between. Just knowing about what I am puts her in danger, and yet, we’ve only grown closer despite that.

She believed me. She listened as the truth spilled from me in a sob, stayed with me even after knowing what I am.

And I’ve never been more relieved about a moment of weakness.

“Ellie,” I say slowly, deliberately. “What if I know of a seamstress?”

She thinks for a moment before answering with a shrug. “That would be fine. Did you meet someone here? In the palace?”

“No, she’s from Loot.” Ellie gives me a skeptical look, but I barrel on. “She’s incredible. I can guarantee she would make me the finest dress Ilya’s ever seen.”

“Well, I suppose I could talk to Lenny about escorting you there to get her.” She quickly adds, “As long as he is allowed too.”

My brows knit together. “Get her?”

“Oh yes. If you get clearance to go, she’ll come back with you and be hired here as your personal seamstress until the Trials are over. Or until…” she trails off.

The rest of her words are drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears, and my heart is racing so quickly I feel as though I’m in the middle of a fight.

Adena is going to live here. With me.

She’ll be fed and paid. I’ll get to see her. She’ll be safe. Relief washes over me, feebly attempting to replace the guilt I still feel.

Ellie promises she’ll speak to Lenny about taking me to Loot before saying goodnight and slipping out the door.

I flop onto my bed, staring up at the intricate molding on the ceiling. I’m not sure how long I lay there, letting the hope and happiness wash over me at the thought of seeing Adena safe and sound.

And then a light knock at the door has my thoughts shattering.