I’m standing in a sea of black. Black suit coats, black ties, black shoes. Like ink, the men filling the ballroom swirl around on the white marble floors, words hastily scribbled on a piece of glossy parchment.
Servants dance around the room, though they have no music to accompany them as they weave through the crowd. They make their laps, bringing wine, champagne, and extravagant finger foods on even more extravagant plates.
Seeing that the Trials are different this year—thanks to me and the testing of the future Enforcer—it no surprise that the balls would be out of the ordinary as well. Typically, the Trial’s balls are just that: balls. They consist of far too many hours of dancing and tedious small talk, both of which require excessive amounts of alcohol to get through.
But this Trial’s first ball begins with a banquet.
Black-clad bodies dot the room, men of all ages milling about. That is, men of all ages who are either nobility, of royal blood, or have somehow managed to get an invite to the Purging Trials first ball.
After an hour of hopping between throngs of men, making idle conversation with both young and old, friend and foe, I’m restless and bored at best. Kitt and I have retired to reside by one of the many beautiful tables bordering the ballroom, brimming with drinks.
I’ve passed the time by admiring my favorite room of the castle, taking it in for the hundredth time. Its marble columns and large, ceiling-to-floor windows line the room, giving it an ethereal look. Chandeliers droop from the ceiling, dripping with diamonds and elegance. Two sets of emerald-padded staircases mirror each other as they descend to the marble floor from the balcony high above. Golden, detailed doors open onto the half-circle platform overlooking the ballroom floor, which is so shiny I can see my own bored reflection in it.
I sip at my second glass of wine, wishing I had something stronger.
Any minute now.
The small orchestra seated in the far corner of the elegant ballroom strums to life just as the glistening doors at the top of the balcony swing open. A beautiful woman cocooned in silky emerald steps up to the railing and looks down at the floor beneath her.
Mother.
She beams, practically glowing. Then she begins gracefully descending the staircase to her right with measured, light steps. Sometimes I forget that even she is a fighter with her Volt ability to manipulate electricity that can easily be used in deadly ways if she wished.
The click of her heels sounds against the marble floor as she makes her way across the ballroom. The men part, creating a path for her as she heads for my father seated at the far end of the room.
He smiles—really smiles at her. It’s a rare expression for him, one that he only seems to wear when she is around. He stands, meeting her in the middle of the room before taking her arm.
The king looks around, eying the men eying him. “Let the first ball of the Purging Trials begin!” The men cheer as the king and queen walk together, talking and welcoming those they pass.
And so it begins.
Women, both young and old begin filing through those golden doors, one at a time. As is tradition, the men always enter the ballroom first and wait for the women to arrive, in honor of the queen who appeared fashionably late to the ball where she first met Father, every eye on her as she made her entrance. Since then, every woman has been given the opportunity to make their arrival for all to watch and admire.
Dozens of them descend the staircases, all varying in different shades of green. As soon as they reach the floor, their dates whisk them away and take a seat at one of the many tables that litter the far side of the ballroom.
Kitt and I watch the parade of women as we sip our wine, admiring from a distance. They come in no particular order, no ranking or status involved in who gets to walk through the door next. I watch as my cousin sweeps in, wearing a mint green dress that contrasts her wine-red hair. Andy smiles at Jax from where he waits for her at the bottom of the stairs, a goofy grin on his face. She pulls him toward the large table meant for the contestants, centered among the others to allow the guests a perfect view of us. A dinner and show.
I watch them take a seat before turning my attention back to the balcony, finding the steady stream of women beginning to slow. I spot Hera and Ace making their way through the crowd, neither of them looking particularly happy to be paired with one another. My eyes dart back up to the doors when Sadie enters, her brown skin glistening against her light green dress as she walks down the steps to an awaiting Braxton.
A shade of lilac catches my eye, revealing Blair standing at the top of the stairs, peering down from the railing. Forest green fabric hugs her waist, her figure, before billowing out at her feet. Her hair is pinned and twisted out of her face, a sly grin already spreading across it when she spots me.
“Good luck, Brother,” Kitt mutters, and I don’t miss the amusement in his tone.
After being cornered before dinner a few nights ago, Blair insisted we go to the ball together. And seeing that I didn’t have a choice in the matter, a reluctant yes was the only answer I could give.
I shove my wine glass into Kitt’s hand with an annoyed sigh. “Take care of that,” I nod down to the cup he now clutches. “I’ll definitely be needing it.”
Kitt’s deep laugh follows me as I make my way to the bottom of the stairs, meeting Blair there just in time. I hold out an arm to her which she clutches greedily. “You look stunning, Blair,” I say softly, because she does, in a cold and sharp sort of way.
“Why, thank you, Kai,” she muses, her darkened lashes lowering as she takes in my attire, my hair, my face. “As do you.”
I lead us to the table, now mostly filled with the contestants sitting stiffly around it. When I take the seat beside Jax, he shoots me that bright smile of his that never fails to make me return it.
“Look at you, J. You cleaned up nice,” I say, surveying his crisp suit and dark pants that are actually long enough to cover his ankles for once. “You can’t even tell I whooped your ass in the ring this morning.”
I hear Andy snort on the other side of Jax before she leans in to add, “You’re not the only one.”
Jax rolls his eyes at our teasing, but the grin never leaves his face. “Where’s Kitt? He’s the only one of you who’s nice to me.”
Andy presses a hand to her chest, feigning offense while I don’t even bother trying to deny that he’s right. Instead, I simply say, “True, but you know I’m far more fun.”
Jax opens his mouth to respond, but it’s a cold female voice I hear instead. “Are you? Because I’m bored.”
I slowly turn to face Blair, having forgotten she was even there. I’m a terrible date, though I suppose she signed up for this when she asked me to be her partner, so I don’t waste my time feeling bad about it. “So sorry I’m not entertaining you, Blair.” I hear Andy snort before I add, “How are you this evening?”
She smiles, seemingly pleased that I’m providing her my undivided attention. And that is all she needs to begin complaining about the uncomfortable pins in her hair before going on to discuss the material of her gown, insisting I should feel how soft it is.
Jax snickers beside me through it all, unable to stifle his laugh each time I hum in agreement or nod my head at words I’m not entirely listening to. But I’m snapped out of my bored daze when a goblet is set before me.
“Thought you might want that back, Brother.”
I turn my head to find Kitt standing behind my chair before my eyes slide to her shimmering beside him.
She is every bit the Silver Savior.
Shining, silver fabric clings to her body. Thin straps wrap over her shoulders, holding up the dress with its plunging neckline, revealing her tanned skin and sharp collarbones. It melds to her waist and hips like melted coins, reminding me of the ones she stole when we first met.
Paedyn’s coal-lined lashes sweep over me as I take her in. Her hair is like a curtain covering her dress, making it difficult to tell where the silver strands end and the shiny dress begins. Fabric fans out around her ankles, displaying a large slit sliding up the length of her leg, mirroring the one I tore in her dress that day of the interviews. And there, strapped to her thigh, is a silver dagger for all to see. I fight my smile at the sight of her deadly weapon paired with her dazzling attire—so lovely, yet so lethal.
Every bit of her is draped in silver.
Not green. Not expected.
Beautiful, bold, not blending in.
A statement. A reminder of who she is and what she did.
The women aren’t necessarily required to wear green to these balls, and it seems Paedyn took advantage of that little detail.
Her eyes briefly meet mine before Kitt leads her to the other side of the table. And that’s all it takes to have me downing my own drink and desperately wishing this night was over. My eyes flick up, meeting Paedyn’s across the table where she’s now sitting. She holds my gaze, only breaking it when Kitt says something softly beside her, turning her attention from me and pinning those ocean eyes on him.
I shamelessly watch them interact, not caring who sees me staring. Paedyn seems tense as they talk quietly, her eyes continually straying to the collar of his shirt rather than meeting his gaze. I watch as she slowly spins that ring on her thumb, almost smiling at the sight of it paired with her gown. But she nods while Kitt does the same, no doubt very aware of the dozens of eyes watching them from the surrounding tables.
Servants begin pouring into the ballroom, carrying trays piled with steaming plates of food. It’s not long before we are eating seasoned salmon and buttered asparagus in silence, the only sound the scraping of forks and the chattering of guests surrounding us.
And I would have loved to keep it that way, might have even enjoyed a ball for once if we could have sat there and let the silence swallow us. But instead, my date decides to open her mouth.
“That’s a lovely gown you’re wearing, Paedyn.” Blair’s tone is mocking, her mouth curving into a smirk.
I sigh, looking up from my plate to see Paedyn smiling slightly. “Why, thank you.” Her eyes skim over Blair and her green attire. “And your dress is so very…unique,” she says with a pointed look at the rest of the ballroom and the women wearing similar shades.
Blair’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know if you were taught this in the slums, so let me enlighten you. Ilya’s kingdom color is green. Not silver.”
I stiffen at the way she spat out the word slums, drawing even Sadie and Braxton from their quiet conversation to cast warry glances around the table. We all seem to be holding our breath, awaiting Paedyn’s response.
And she never seems to disappoint.
After taking a slow sip from her glass, she meets Blair’s burning gaze. “Hmm. And did living in the palace teach you how to be a bitch?”
Blair snaps.
Before I can blink, the knife placed beside Paedyn’s plate is now raised in front of her chest, its point aimed at her heart.
The sight sends a shock of anger through me, but my voice is far cooler than my sudden rage as I say, “Easy, ladies.” Borrowing the Tele ability, I push the knife back down onto the table with a clatter while ignoring the glare Blair shoots me. “I’m not normally the one breaking up fights, but let’s not try to kill each other before the Trials even start.”
Guests murmur around us, watching their contestants with eager expressions. I can’t even begin to imagine how entertaining this must be for them, watching our feeble attempts to be civil with one another when we will be anything but tomorrow.
Ace laughs, the sound haughty and humorless. “Is that what you intend to do Kai? Kill us?” When I finally deign to look at him, I don’t miss the gleam in his eyes to accompany the challenge in his voice.
I level him with a stare. “I intend to win.”
“As do the rest of us,” Ace replies before running a hand over his oiled hair, chuckling. “Well, all of us except for Paedyn, who simply intends to survive.”
He’s mocking her answer from the interviews.
Hera squirms in her seat beside Ace, clearly as uncomfortable as the rest of the table. And what I’m about to say is going to make things a hell of a lot worse.
“Enough.”
Kitt’s voice cuts through the tension, turning all eyes on him. But he only has eyes for one person, one girl wearing the glittering dress beside him as he says, “Dance with me, will you? Please?”
Paedyn hesitates for only a moment before nodding. And then I’m staring after them as they stride onto the dance floor where several other couples have begun spinning in time to the music.
Blair is suddenly saying something to me, dragging me to my feet before dragging me onto the dance floor. I don’t remember when we started dancing. Suddenly, she’s in my arms, and we are spinning across the marble floor. The feel of her is foreign to me after the nights spent with Paedyn in my arms. Nights that I still haven’t told Kitt about.
I was doing him a favor.
My eyes wander across the dance floor, landing on my brother and the girl in his arms. I’m not wearing green, but I feel it, nonetheless. Envy claws at me as I watch them step in time to the very waltz I led Paedyn through only last night. She looks elegant, enticing, entrancing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I turn away from their spinning forms, angry with myself for feeling. Feeling jealousy and possessiveness over the one girl who’s made it clear that I shouldn’t.
So, I distract myself. I dance with Blair and other beautiful women who sweep me onto the dance floor. I flirt and toy with them, focusing on the girls in front of me rather than the one dancing close by with my brother.
I catch her watching me and our eyes lock, sparks dancing between us.
She is the embodiment of a bad decision. The twin of danger and desire. The fine line between deadly and divine.
And I can feel myself drowning.
