Page 32 of The Never List
I nod, grateful. “Were you handmaiden to the previous potentials?”
She nods.
I smile. “Brilliant. I’ll need your help. I want to know what to expect.”
Mirren laughs. “I could tell you verbatim every detail of every previous potential’s experience, and you’d still not know what to expect. Every day is new and different, depending on the princes’ moods.” Her voice trails off, her lips forming a stiff line. “They aren’t predictable, and there is no formula to win them over,” she continues as she rearranges the dishes on my abandoned tray. “The sooner you learn that, the better.”
The oversize bath is lined with glass bottles in vivid greens and royal blues and golden ambers, all filled with luxurious scents I can’t begin to place. I grab a rose gold one at random, enjoying its crisp smell—like a summer breeze—and get to work. I’m tempted to stay in the hot bath all day, but Mirren fusses at me through the closed door far too soon.
I hurry to dry myself, working the strands of my hair into a half-up, half-down style. I’ve never been more grateful than when I realize that one of the perks of being a potential is access to makeup as I settle myself at the crystal vanity in the bathing chamber. All the shades match my skin tone, and there is a rainbow variety of eye makeup, enough to last me two lifetimes.
I shake my head at the excess but hurry to cover up the mark on the back of my neck. I’ll have to keep a compact of cover-up with me at all times and never wear my hair up if I don’t want the mark discovered. The Legends wouldinstantly recognize it if they saw it.
I swallow down the fear, focusing on my eyes. I’ve never done my own makeup. Whenever I’ve worn it before, Layce or Ivy did it for me, but I have to look like I know what I’m doing or Mirren will question why I didn’t allow her to do it for me. I settle for a neutral tone on my eyes—a simple shimmery white mixed with the slightest hint of cobalt at the corners of my lids that makes my blue eyes pop. After a quick brush of ink on my lashes, I close the gold silk robe around my body and step back into the room.
“Ready,” I declare as if I’ve won a medal.
Mirren stops tidying the room—the leftover breakfast trays and bedding are gone—and purses her lips at me. “Wearing a robe to the Ruby Aire would certainly make a statement,” she says.
“Did you just make a joke?” I ask, grinning.
She waves me off, scoffing for good measure before she points to the sitting area and takes a seat. “You have twenty minutes before you need to be clothed and ready for me to take you downstairs. Ask your questions, child.”
“Thank you,” I say, hurrying into the chair opposite her. “I’ve only seen illustrations of the previous potentials in the royal post,” I start. “Do you think physical appearance plays a role in being…pleasing to the princes?”
Mirren sits up so straight, I wonder if she’s comfortable at all. “The previous potentials have all been high nobles, except for one Ari, but even she maintained her appearance to the level of royalty. Proper clothes, proper manners. Those things matter when the people are scrutinizing their potential future queen. But,” she continues, “not one of them looked like the others. So no, I don’t think yourgoddess-given looks matter to the princes…they’re more concerned about substance, in my opinion.”
Good to know. I remember reading about the previous potentials, but only when spending time at Ivy’s. Ashlanders get select bits of information from the kings, and a full recount of the Choosing events isn’t one of them.
“The order of events,” I say. “The Choosing happens, and then I travel to each of the Legends’ cities. And it’s there I’ll be tested, right? By the kings? In what way?”
Mirren sighs. “Did you choose not to read about this in the previous royal posts?”
“Sometimes,” I lie.
“Some tests are simple—little trials set up by the kings to test you. I believe it’s their way of inserting themselves into the rules set forth by the goddesses.” She shrugs. “Sometimes they don’t test you at all. Sometimes they delight in creating situations curated to find out if you’re delicate or intelligent or deviant, and so on.”
“Mind games,” I whisper, nodding.
“Yes,” Mirren says. “Other tests…”
I swallow hard, a pit opening up in my stomach. “Other tests?”
She shrugs again. “The princes are known for protecting the citizens of their cities. They can do so in chaotic ways. Some tests are crafted to test your reactions to such…brutality.”
Dread slides over my skin. I’d read about one potential being badly wounded during such a test, but I assumed the story had been embellished for shock value. Another way for the kings to keep us living in fear. But if the discomfort on Mirren’s face is any indication, the story wasn’t anembellishment.Shit.
Will I be forced into a test that will make me fight for my life? Or will I be forced to dole out punishment right alongside the Legends?
I clear my throat. “How…how would the kings know if I passed any of these tests? Do the Legends relay the information or—”
“You truly haven’t been paying attention at all for the last six Choosings, have you?”
“I’ve had work to do,” I say, doing my best not to bite out the words.
“Clearly it wasn’t preparing to be a mate potential,” she says, shaking her head. “The Occuli,” she continues. “Surely you’ve heard of them?”
Every hair on my body stands on end as I recall the illustrations I’ve seen of Lumathyst’s ancient conjurers. They’re an elite group of magically inclined people who do all manner of things for the royals, using their magic to power a variety of materials that Ashlanders like me can barely fathom. Each Occuli varies in appearance save for one unnerving characteristic—their eyes are pitch-black, void of emotion. Beyond that defining quality, you could spot them in a crowd due to the dark-purple robes they wear, a symbol of their magical status and connection to the royals.
