Powerless (The Powerless Trilogy): Chapter 2

A ball of fire skims past my face, nearly singeing my hair off. I barely have the time to duck when I feel a second wave of heat rippling towards me.

Plagues, Kitt’s in a lovely mood today.

Dancing on the balls of my feet, I watch as another sphere of fire comes hurtling in my direction as the familiar feel of adrenaline floods through me. I throw up a shield of water, hearing the fire hiss before it melts into nothing more than a thick cloud of steam. Kitt squints, attempting to see me through the smoke before his eyes widen when I suddenly collide with him. We tumble to the ground as I pin him down, raising a flaming fist aimed at his face.

“Yield?” I can’t keep the smile from twitching my lips. He coughs out a laugh, his gaze flicking between my face and the blazing fist raised beside it.

“If I say no, are you really gonna punch me, little brother?” Despite the fire burning mere inches from him, Kitt’s green eyes glint with amusement.

“I’d think you would know the answer to that by now.” I smile slightly as I cock my fist back farther, posing to strike.

“Alright, alright, I yield!” Kitt sputters. “But only because I wouldn’t want poor Eli to have to set another one of our broken noses.”

I chuckled darkly at the thought of seeing the look on the royal physician’s face if we were to stumble in with yet another broken bone. After standing to my feet, I offer a hand to Kitt who’s still sprawled on the ground.

The smile he gives me doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he finally says, “Plagues, Kai, you’re better with my powers than I am.”

“And that is why you will be ruling the country,” I say simply, “while I’ll be fighting on the battlefield, distracting the enemy with my dashing good looks.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t distract the enemy with my own dashing good looks?” Kitt asks through his deep laughter, feigning offense.

“I’m saying that we are only half-brothers, so I’m afraid that means you only have half my charms.”

Kitt barks out another laugh. “By that logic, I suppose you only have half my brains then.”

“Thank the Plague for that.” The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s shoving me with a grin.

We walk the worn path between the dirt training circles that reside on the castle grounds. Imperials in training and other Elites of higher status continue their sparring as we pass, most using abilities while few use weapons.

Heads turn towards us, their eyes burning my skin mirroring the sun beating down on us from above. Ignoring the stares, I breathe in the training grounds’ familiar scent of literal blood, sweat, and tears before grabbing a sword from a weapons rack and tossing one to Kitt who’s expression can only be described as exasperated.

“You know I’ve always enjoyed fighting with weapons more than abilities,” I say in answer to his pointed look as I mindlessly test the balance of my blade.

Kitt saunters further into the muddy ring, all but rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware of how much you love to beat down on me with a sword.”

I rotate my wrist, swinging my blade as we begin circling each other. “It does happen to be one of my favorite hobbies, yes.” I advance suddenly, swinging my sword down hard against his and sending a jolt up my arm. “See, isn’t this fun?”

Kitt grits his teeth against my strike. “Riveting.”

I fall into a familiar trance, letting my feet dance around the ring as we spare, getting lost in the rhythm. My mind clears. My body hums with energy. I’ve always felt most alive when I fight. It’s what I was made to do, what has kept me sane over the years of training and tutoring.

“A dimwitted king is a dead king.”

Father’s words ring through my mind, having been drilled through my skull after every complaint about my tedious lessons as a boy. Though, I won’t have to worry about being a dead or dimwitted king, seeing that I won’t be a king at all. And after arguing just that to Father, he kindly created a new saying for me to live by.

“A dimwitted Enforcer is a defeated empire.”

Encouraging.

A sharp pain sears up my forearm, dragging me from my thoughts with a jolt.

“Better get your head in the game, Kai, or I might actually beat you.” Kitt has a look of triumph on his face that I intend to wipe off. “I wouldn’t want my future Enforcer slacking on the jo—”

Before he can even finish his remark, I’m pushing his sword to the ground and pinning it under my own before swiveling behind him. In one swift motion, I kick my boot up, sliding a dagger from it to settle the sharp tip against his back.

“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.

“Prince Kai?”

I stiffen, sigh, and turn towards the voice behind me. A young boy looks up nervously, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. I raise my eyebrows, my impatience evident.

“The king requests your presence in the throne room.”