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.
His days consisted of education, tutoring, and far more pleasant time spent with the father he loves so much. As the heir, Kitt’s always been guarded, protected, and even getting him out into the training yard with me when we were boys was no small feat.
When I look back at the king, his green eyes are already pinned on me. Kitt’s eyes. After Father’s first wife died while giving birth to his son, he married the daughter of a trusted adviser. Unsurprisingly, he quickly fell in love with my mother’s caring and kindness, her bravery and beauty. I look like her, with my dark hair and light eyes, just as Kitt takes after Father, both green-eyed and blond.
I clear my head, tucking thoughts of the past away until the next time allow myself to dwell on them again. My voice is dull when I finally ask, “When do I leave?”
Those exact words poke at a memory, reminding me how naïve I was when I asked them before my very first mission. Not knowing that I would become a murderer that day. Not knowing I would watch a man crumple to the floor in a pool of his own blood.
“At dawn.”
Dawn came far too early for my liking, and before I know it, I’m making my way to the stables.
The large, white barn casts an even larger shadow in the early morning sunlight. Each wall is lined with stalls where the horses nibble on hay, looking up at me curiously.
My gaze slides over the two Imperials standing to my left, accompanied by three horses saddled for the journey ahead of us. I grit my teeth. The king pulled two guards from the rotation on Loot Alley as a safety precaution, though I’m more than capable of handling this on my own. But it seems that in a single night, Father has suddenly grown to care for my well-being. It’s only taken nineteen years and the fact that I am now valuable to him.
I shake my head and mount the horse closest to me, swallowing my pride enough to admit that it’s wise for Imperials to be with me in the case of a banishing.
The trip to Loot is a long one, and we pass the time in utter silence. Streets slowly turn to slums as we head further into the city, and I could smell the large market alley before reaching it.
The familiar scent of fish, smoke, and other mysteries welcome me as we head onto Loot. The echo of our horses’ hooves clopping down the uneven cobblestones bounces off the walls of rundown shops lining the street. A few early risers dart out of the way, making room for us as they point and whisper.
We turn left down a smaller street jutting off the main alley and head for a small, wooden shack. I hop off my horse without hesitation and stuff the reigns into the gloved hand of an Imperial, letting him deal with securing the animal.
If they must be here, they might as well be useful to me.
I stride to the door, slipping a hand from of my pocket to knock. I hear a thud from inside, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps before the door swings open, creaking on its rusty hinges.
A huge, burly man with a thick beard and even thicker hair stares at the scene before him. I’m surprised he can fit through the doorframe. His blue eyes widen under his bushy brows as he looks between myself and the two Imperials now flanking me.
“Prince Kai…?” The man looks astonished and flustered all at once. “Hi, er, what an honor!” His falsely cheery voice carries down the street, likely waking his neighbors as he reaches out to offer a handshake.
His grasp is firm and calloused, much like my own. “Nathan, correct?” He nods, and I continue, “I had a few questions to ask you about an Ordinary found here in Loot. I’m sure that’s not a problem.” I watch him closely, searching for any indication that he knows what I’m talking about. Nothing. His face remains utterly expressionless. “Mind if we come in?” It’s not a question and he knows it. I already have my foot over the threshold before he steps away from the door.
The house is no bigger than my bedroom back at the palace. On one side of the room, small beds are pushed together and lined crookedly against the wall. The kitchen resides on the other half of the room, equipped with a rundown sink, a chipped wooden counter, and a large table surrounded with two wide-eyed boys and a woman. A large, faded rug joins the two sides of the room, the only decoration and splotch of color in the house.
Nathan clears his throat. “This is my wife, Layla.” She smiles warmly, her white teeth contrasting against her dark skin as she eyes the Imperials shifting on their feet behind me.
“And these are our boys, Marcus and Cal.” Nathan points at each of his children, naming them off. Marcus keeps his eyes pinned to the table, not daring to look at me while his younger brother, Cal, is far too curious to keep his eyes from darting to mine.
I reach out with my power, making sure none of them are the Ordinary hiding in plain sight. My Wielder ability is especially helpful as the Enforcer, making my job far easier and far more efficient.
Nathan is a Brawny, and I’m not the least bit surprised, seeing that he’s a mountain of a man. I can feel Layla’s power as a Healer bubbling in my blood like champagne while Marcus and Cal both possess Mundane powers—Marcus with the lie detecting ability of a Bluff, and Cal as an Enhancer with his heightened senses.
“You know why I’m here,” I say coolly. “Have you seen or heard anything about an Ordinary hiding around here?”
“No, sir, we haven’t.” It’s Layla who says this, her soft voice steady.
My eyes sweep over the house again, stopping on the sink. Bowls still sticky with porridge are piled within it, waiting to be cleaned.
Five.
Five bowls when there are only four mouths to feed.
Interesting.
“Well, then you won’t mind if I take a look around?”
Once again, not a question. I casually stroll through the small house, stopping every once and a while to examine something more closely. I feel the eyes of both my Imperials and the family burning into my back as I take my time perusing the home, hands casually in my pockets.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
I’m about ready to call this a dead end and a waste of my time when I step in the middle of the patterned rug, now faded from years of trampling feet. A creak sounds beneath my shoes. I stop and shift my weight, listening for the sound again. Sure enough, wood groans once again beneath the rug.
Interesting.
Though Nathan’s face remains expressionless, the blood has drained from it, leaving him ghostly pale. “Lift the rug,” I say dryly to the guards, never taking my eyes off the family. And that’s when I spot an emotion I’m all too familiar with, the one that tends to accompany my presence.
Fear.
As the rug rolls back, I spot the outline of a trapdoor, blending in almost seamlessly with the rest of the dirty, wooden floorboards.
The thud. This is what I heard closing when I was outside.
A sob escapes Layla when I kneel and swing the trapdoor open, revealing a cramped, dark space beneath. There, tucked in the corner and hugging her knees, sits a little girl. When she looks up at me, the fire in her eyes matches the bright red of her long hair.
Plagues, she’s so young.
She can’t be more than eight years old, but the girl doesn’t fight me as I reach down and lift her out of the damp box. I set her on the floor where she stares defiantly up at me, not a trace of fear on her small face splattered with freckles.
I feel for any sort of power coming from her, just to be sure. Nothing. There is nothing extraordinary about this girl—because she’s Ordinary.
Strangled sobs begin filling the room.
“No, no, no!” Layla’s shaky screams echo off the walls. “You can’t take her! You can’t! She’s my daughter, please!” The Imperials step between me and the raging family, but I push past them, annoyed. The boys are both sobbing now, hugging their mother’s legs while Nathan looks stunned, silent tears slipping down his cheeks and into his matted beard.
“Calm down and tell me where the hell she came from and how long you’ve been harboring her.” My voice is low and stern, cutting through the chaos. The little girl standing before me looks nothing like this family with her freckles and flaming red hair. Not to mention that both Nathan and Layla are Elites, meaning the two of them could never produce an Ordinary.
“She…she’s been here for three years.” Layla’s voice trembles, sobs racking her small frame. “We f-found her on the streets, so we took her in. We wanted a daughter. I couldn’t have any more kids…” she trails off, wiping at her face. “I’m one of the few Healers in the slums, and she seemed healthy, strong. So, when we found Abigail, we…we finally got to have a little girl.”
Abigail.
I wish I didn’t know. Wish I didn’t have to add another name to the endless list of those unfortunate enough to cross my path, unfortunate enough to cross the king.
I heave a sigh.
Here it comes.
“You know the law.” More choking sobs fill the room, forcing me to raise my voice. “By decree of the king, all Ordinaries are to be executed. As for anyone harboring said Ordinaries, they are to be banished to the Scorches—”
I was in the middle of reciting the same rehearsed lines I’ve said dozens of times when a large, solid body charges at me. The blank stare he wore just moments ago is long gone, replaced by a hatred that contorts his face in fury. Nathan hits me around the middle and runs me into the wall, knocking the air from my lungs while bashing the back of my head against the hard wood.
That’s gonna kill like the Plague tomorrow.
I distantly hear a scream tear from Layla’s throat, along with the Imperials’ heavy footsteps as they run over to intervene. “No!” I shout at them, ducking under a punch aimed at my nose while the guards halt, confused. “I’ll handle him myself.”
He throws another punch, this one intended to break my jaw. I dodge just in time to see his fist connect with the wooden wall where my face was, sending splinters flying when his hands breaks straight through.
My fighting instincts take over, and I don’t even bother reaching out to use Nathan’s power. With his fist still buried in the wall, I duck under his outstretched arm and pull out his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back to press it beneath his left shoulder blade. He grunts in pain before kicking back at my kneecap, hard. Pain sears up my leg as he spins out of my hold, raising his supernaturally strong fist.
Ignoring the pain in my knee, I drop and sweep my leg in a wide arc, connecting with his ankles and sending him sprawling onto his back. Then I’m on top of him, pinning his arms down with my knees as I finally let his Brawny strength claw to the surface, knowing I won’t be able to keep him down without using his own power against him. He thrashes, baring his teeth at me.
“Shut up and listen to me,” I pant. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And personally, I’d prefer the easy way.”
“She’s my daughter!” he bellows, a look of anguish in his eyes as he tries to tear me off him.
“Well, clearly, you have no regard for my feelings, because you want to do this the hard way.” I sigh, cock my fist back, and connect it with his jaw. His head snaps to the side, stunning him long enough to let me speak. “If you don’t cooperate, even your wife won’t have the ability to heal your broken body once I’m finished with you. So, I suggest you thank me for not killing you right here in front of your family and do exactly as I say.”
Nathan stills beneath me, the fight seeming to drain from his eyes. I shift, crouching beside him to stare down at his defeated form. “Now, get the hell up before I change my mind,” I murmur before standing to my feet. When he doesn’t budge, I add, “Patience is about as foreign to me as mercy, so I wouldn’t press your luck.”
At that, he scrambles to his feet and steps in front of his huddled family, blocking them from me. Shielding them from a monster. I keep my eyes locked on the sight of them, taking in the tears spilling down their cheeks and sobs slipping past their lips as I bark orders to the Imperials.
They hurry to heed my commands, tying up the prisoners as I casually add, “Keep to the side streets. Clearly, I’m in a good mood today. Feeling merciful if you will,” I huff out the words. “So I’d rather not have an audience.”
The Imperials grunt their agreement, smiling slightly at my idea of mercy. Within a matter of minutes, Nathan, Layla, and their two boys are tied and shuffling behind the horses. They twist their heads around, hatred burning in their gazes as they eye Abigail tied and firmly held in my grasp.
They know what happens now. My reputation is rather renowned, stories of the murderous monster murmured throughout the streets.
This is the part where I kill the Ordinary while the Imperials escort the criminals to the Scorches where they will likely follow her into death. With its blistering heat by day and freezing temperatures by night, it’s no simple feat to make it to the other side of the desert where the cities of Dor and Tando lie. Not to mention that I’ve just sentenced this family to try and do just that with no supplies, no food, no water, and no hope.
It’s a far more painful death than their Ordinary daughter will suffer.
“Please! I’m begging you, please spare her!” Layla is shouting at me between sobs as she shuffles over the cobblestones behind the horses. “She’s just a child—”
An Imperial reaches behind from where he sits atop his horse and strikes her across the face, cutting off her plea. “Shut up, Slummer.”
I rip my eyes from the scene, pulling the girl away and down the street. Her feeble attempts to wiggle out of my grasp would be comical if it weren’t for the humorless situation we find ourselves in.
She’s eerily quiet for a child being dragged to her death. Most Ordinaries are screaming by now, pleading and bargaining for their lives. But her struggle is silent, her stare piercing. I keep my eyes locked on the empty alleys we head through, wondering how familiar one must be with hiding everything they are in order to hide their emotions even while facing death.
I steer us down a shadowed alley, not yet touched by the faint sunlight beginning to paint the kingdom golden. The Ordinary—Abigail—squirms, attempting to twist out of my grip for the dozenth time. I look down at her, amusement coating my voice as I say, “You are a persistent, little thing, aren’t you?”
She huffs, causing her flaming hair to flicker around her face before she sends a solid kick to my shin. I would have been impressed with her form if it weren’t for my growing frustration. I drop to a crouch in front of her so her angry green eyes can meet mine. Only when she lifts her leg to swing it at me once more do I say softly, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
She blinks, and right when I think she’s heeded my warning, she stomps on my foot before trying to pull her arm out of my grip with no luck. And then she’s squealing, flailing in an attempt to get away from me.
“Alright, well, we can’t have that.” I slip a knife from my boot as I murmur, “You are not going to make this easy for me.”
At the sight of the dagger, she swallows, suddenly still. “Just put it in my heart,” she blurts with her eyes pinned on the knife, voice delicate in the way that only a child’s can be. “I heard Momma say it’s quicker that way.”
“Did she now?” I ask quietly. “There are other quick ways as well you know.”
And I know every single one of them.
I watch her flinch as I bring the blade closer to her, watch her eyes widen as she finally allows herself to feel the terror she’s been desperately trying to hide. Then she takes a deep breath that sounds like something akin to acceptance before squeezing her eyes shut against the face of a monster in front of her.
The dagger slices, cutting easily.
The girl—
Abigail.
—sucks in a shaky breath.
After a long moment, a teary green eye peeks open. She blinks as the bindings slip from her raw wrists and land at her feet. Her gaze skips from her unharmed heart to my face before landing on the dagger in my hand. “Aren’t you gonna put that in my heart?”
My lips twitch. “Listen closely, Abigail. I cut your bindings, so now you have to do me a favor in return. I need you to stay quiet and stop struggling.” I search her face before adding, “Understood?”
I don’t wait for an answer before I once again begin leading us down streets and alleys. She must have understood me well enough because she now walks stiffly in silence, making no move to break out of my hold.
When the Scorches come into view, so do the two Imperials standing at the edge of it. They pay no attention to the family they are supposed to be watching head into the desert, now blurry figures dotting the sand. I peek my head out behind an alley wall, watching as the Imperials talk idly. Before long, they’re shrugging and spinning on their heels to head back down the street.
Typical.
I was counting on the guards’ predictable laziness and failure to finish tasks. And I hadn’t wanted the banished family paraded through the streets like they typically are, because then I would have a crowd to witness my treason.
Once they’ve passed us, we slip onto the street and head for the sand. The family is far ahead, and since I’m feeling rather lazy myself, I reach out to grab hold of one of the Imperial’s Flash ability. He’ll be out of my range soon, so I hurry to pick up the girl and dash into the desert.
We’ve nearly made it to the family when distance has Flash’s ability slipping away from me. Nathan startles at the sound of us behind him and spins, eyes wide when they land on Abigail in my arms.
Layla is running towards us and has the girl wrapped in her arms in a matter of moments with the whole family encircling the two of them. They sob as I step aside, feet shifting in the scolding sand that has begun spilling into my shoes.
And then they turn towards me, eyes burning hotter than the sun beating down on us. Nathan only offers me one word, low and laced with hatred. “Why?”
I slip out my dagger and cut the bindings around his wrists in one swift movement, meeting his gaze as I say, “I don’t kill children.”
Hypocrite.
As if that is not exactly what I’m doing. In fact, I’m only prolonging the inevitable. But at least they will all get to be together in the end—a mockery of mercy that I only bestow upon children.
I move down the line of stunned prisoners, cutting their bound hands free. I look them each in the eyes, most still glossy with tears, before turning to the little girl. The Ordinary.
Abigail.
I walk towards her slowly and lower myself to one knee, sinking deep into the hot sand so we’re eye to eye. Though she doesn’t say a thing, her eyes speak volumes. She’s only a child, and yet I see a devastating amount of determination behind her gaze.
Perhaps you may not need powers to be powerful.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out a small pocketknife from within. Its white handle is engraved with golden swirls, but its small blade is sharp. I hold it out to her.
“Every girl deserves something as equally pretty and deadly as they are,” I say, urging her to take the knife. She eyes me wearily before stretching out a small hand to pluck it from my palm. “Use it wisely.”
I run a hand through my hair as I stand to my feet with a sigh. “In accordance with our laws and by decree of King Edric, I hereby banish you from the Kingdom of Ilya for your acts of treason.”
With that, I watch as Nathan puts an arm around his wife who in turn reaches out an arm for her children to huddle into.
They turn as one.
And I watch as they walk to their doom.
