Reckless (The Powerless Trilogy Book 2)

Her head is crushing my arm.

And I fear I’d never move again if it meant she stayed beside me.

The thought is startling, creeping up from the depths of a feeling I don’t want to dive into at the moment. So, I smother it, content to silently stare up at the sky streaked with pink clouds. The bedroll does little to disguise the feeling of uneven dirt beneath my back, and yet she sleeps soundly beside me. It’s impressive, really.

She danced atop my feet until her eyelids grew heavy, her head slumped against my chest. I lowered her onto my bedroll before she could drool on my only shirt. Now I’m staring at what remains of the braid I wove into her hair, running a finger over the silver strands.

She’s so very deceiving. So Elite in likeness. It’s startling, feeling no power from her.

A sound slips past her lips, soft and sleepy. I fight the urge to wrap my free arm around her, to brush my lips across her neck.

Despite everything, I struggle to not want her.

Something has shifted between us, and yet, nothing at all has changed. She’s the same Paedyn I knew before finding out she was Ordinary. The same Paedyn I knew before she killed the king.

The same Paedyn I was falling for.

And it’s terrifying. Terrifying to know every terrible thing she’s done and still want all of her in spite of it.

I just don’t know if she can say the same for me.

I killed her father, after all. She defended herself against a man I loathed while I murdered a man she loved. And now I’ve chained her to her doom. She is the mission I’m dreading.

She stirs, and I still. When she flips to face me, a blue eye peeks open, blinking in the morning light. “You didn’t wake me,” she grumbles, puzzled.

“I don’t bother trying anymore.”

She laughs sleepily. “I would have thought you’d thrown me over the horse by now.”

I lift the hand she’s not currently crushing and flick the tip of her nose. “Traveling is only fun when you’re constantly trying to escape.”

I drop my hand to see wide eyes blinking at me.

Shit.

Once again, I hadn’t thought about what I was doing until the deed was done.

I haven’t flicked her nose since that final Trial where everything went to hell. That final Trial I was racing to finish just so I could find her on the other end.

I haven’t flicked her nose since I was foolish enough to have feelings for her. Yet here I am, following the same fate. Falling into the same patterns. The same Paedyn.

She clears her throat, suddenly looking very much awake. “Would you like me to keep trying to escape?”

“It is rather entertaining,” I say casually, despite feeling anything but.

“Good to hear. Because I wasn’t planning to stop.”

In one swift movement, she’s grabbed a jagged rock from beside the bedroll and buried it against my neck as she leans over me. “This could do enough damage for me to escape, don’t you think?”

My smile shifts into a grimace when her other hand presses against my hip as she props herself up farther. “Only if you’re able to go through with it,” I manage, blowing out a breath.

Her brows knit together with something deceptively akin to concern. “What happened? What is that face for?”

“Maybe,” I bite out, “it has something to do with the rock digging into my throat.”

“Oh, please, I’m barely putting any pressure—”

She leans her weight against my hip again, and I wince just enough for her to catch the movement. Her eyes dart down my shirt before widening at what they see. “Why are you bleeding?” Her head whips back up toward mine. “And why didn’t you tell me you were bleeding?”

“It’s just a scratch, Gray—”

“A scratch?” she chokes, dropping the rock. “You’re bleeding through your shirt. I’d hardly call that a scratch.”

“Are you worried about me?” She looks away, rolling her eyes. “You seem worried.”

“Yes,” she says simply, meeting my smug stare. “I’m worried you’ll become a deadweight. And seeing that we’re chained together, I’d rather not have to drag your body back to Dor.”

“How thoughtful.”

Her eyes have already returned to my stained shirt. “I didn’t stab you, so who the hell did?”

“Stable hand. He had a small blade between his knuckles. The wound wasn’t deep, but it must have reopened last night.”

She shakes her head at me, disappointment drowning her features. “What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously.” She half laughs. “I’d love to know. This could have gotten infected. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’ve survived far worse, Gray.”

Her gaze softens. “That doesn’t mean you keep suffering just because you know you can.”

I study her face, the way she bites the inside of her cheek in concentration or blinks rapidly in frustration. When her fingers curl around the hem of my shirt, I feel my heart stutter in my chest. “I need this up,” she says softly, pushing the fabric to expose my stomach.

I swallow. “Always trying to get me naked, aren’t you, darling?”

“No, but I am always saving your ass, Prince.” She squints at the wound, struggling to see past the blood. “Yeah, it doesn’t look too deep.”

“He just grazed me,” I say casually. “I told you it was shallow.”

She gives me a look. “That doesn’t mean it won’t get infected.” She fumbles for her pack, feeling around inside until she pulls out the disgustingly yellow skirt. Using her teeth, she rips a strip of cloth from beneath the waistband and sparingly soaks it in water from one of our few canteens. “We don’t have any ointment, or the right plants to make some, so cleaning it up will have to do.”

I watch her closely as she wipes the wound clean of blood. Watch her breathing quicken and her hands tremble slightly. She looks away, growing paler by the second. Her fingers sit atop the fabric, shying away from the blood she’s sopping up.

“Suddenly squeamish, Gray?” I ask quietly, studying her ashen face.

Her voice trembles slightly. “Something like that.”

Something is very wrong. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk about it. So I slowly lift my hand, placing my palm atop her wrist. “Let me.”

I see her swallow, see her contemplate arguing before she simply nods and drops the cloth. She scoots back on the bedroll, putting distance between me and my wound. I tear my eyes from her to pick up the fabric, grimacing as I prop myself up on an elbow and continue cleaning the gash.

I look up at her, wanting to take her mind off whatever it is that has her looking so panicked. “Why didn’t you ever leave Ilya?” The question has been burning in my throat ever since I discovered what she was.

She glances up at me, her eyes darting down to the wound before quickly looking away. “I don’t really have a good reason. I think I was just… stubborn.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Shocking.”

The glare she gives me doesn’t match the growing smile on her face. “I was stubborn and told myself that Ilya was just as much my home as it was the Elites’. Not to mention that I was too young to survive a trip across the Shallows or Scorches—I barely survived this time around. And I think Father would have wanted me to stay in Ilya. I mean, he trained me into a Psychic for a reason. He started the Resistance for a reason.” She ducks her head, smiling sadly. “It was also my little way of defying the king and everything he said about Ordinaries. I was living against all the odds, right under his nose.” Her eyes meet mine. “And something about that kept me fighting.”

I nod slowly, sitting up slightly when I finish cleaning the wound. “Staying in Ilya was something you could control. It was your decision, unlike everything else in your life.”

“You are the last person I figured would understand that.” She laughs softly.

I shrug a shoulder. “In case you’ve forgotten, I also didn’t have a choice in the fate I got dealt. So, I found my own ways to feel in control.”

“Like what?” she asks quietly.

“Like never again taking the life of a child. I’d banish the Ordinary children with their families and lie to my father.” My lips twitch into a smile. “That was my little defiance to the king. Back in Dor, I even ran into a little girl I banished who made it across the Scorches with her family. Abigail’s the one who led me to you.”

“So I have Abigail to thank for your appearance at my ring?” She’s fighting a smile, and it’s an adorable attempt.

“Someone needed to humble you, Shadow.”

“Oh, is that what you did?” Her smile is sunshine incarnate, warm and bright and blinding. “Because I remember kicking your ass. As per usual.”

“That’s cute, Gray. Keep telling yourself that.”

She shakes her head at me. “Sit up.”

“Polite.” I smile in that way I know she hates. “As per usual.”

The look she wears makes me chuckle as I slowly sit up with a grunt. She’s tearing more fabric with her teeth now, freeing a long strip from the skirt. Then she’s hesitantly sliding closer to wrap her arms behind me, her face close. Feeding the fabric around my back, she winds it across my stomach several times before tying it off.

“There,” she says softly, scrutinizing her handiwork. “Now I shouldn’t have to worry about you becoming a deadweight.”

The horse nickers a few feet from us, managing to tear my eyes from her and remind me of where we are. “He’s ready to get moving.”

“That makes one of us,” she mumbles before standing to her feet and untangling the chain from her legs.

I follow, rolling up the bedrolls and stuffing them into the pack. Fiddling with the reins I knotted around a tall stone, I offer the horse an apple that he happily chomps down on. “You ready?” I say over my shoulder to where Paedyn is slinging the pack onto her back.

“No. I have to pee,” she says flatly. I sigh, hanging my head at what I know she’s about to say. “You know the drill, Azer.”

I lean my forehead against the horse. “I don’t know why you insist—”

“Are your ears plugged?”

I blow out a breath before covering my ears. “Yes,” I probably shout. “Even though I don’t get why.”

Her yell is muffled. “Keep talking!”

“You know,” I say, raising my voice. “I pee too. I don’t understand why I have to plug my ears and shout every time.”

“Of course, you don’t.” She’s suddenly behind me, and I uncover my ears before turning to face her. “You’re a man.”

I blink at her, debating whether I want to know exactly what that means. She steps slowly beside the horse, reaching out a hesitant hand to run down his mane. Determined blue eyes find mine over her shoulder. “Teach me how to ride this thing.”