Page 11 of The Never List
The twinkling lights above us flicker, and Ivy flashes me a concerned look. Layce bites her lip, her fingers gripping the rail behind her so hard, her knuckles turn white.
The buzzing yellow bees beside us look our way, their mouths scrunched up as if they can smell the lower cities on us—or maybe they’re so wealthy, they look at everyone like that.
The flickering intensifies, and I step in front of Layce, smoothing my cheek over hers, drawing an arm up to lean against the elevator wall. To the bees, it looks like we’re embracing. Just a friendly, supportive touch as Ivy blocks her from the other side. Girls telling secrets before the big event. They can’t see the air I’m spinning from my fingers, the cool breeze I’m guiding over Layce’s face and into her lungs. She’s always loathed tight spaces.
“Thank you.” Layce breathes the words as the elevator stops.
The bee family buzzes out the second the doors sweep open, but Ivy and I remain, not budging until we know Layce is in control.
“I’m good,” she says, the white streaks of barely contained power in her eyes dimming as her panic ebbs. She squeezes my hand and hustles out the doors, sucking in a deep breath the second she’s clear of them.
Ivy and I follow her, the heels of our shoes clinking on the floor—
“Holy shit,” I gasp, and I turn a few heads with the remark. I lower my voice, barely holding back a laugh as Ivy tugs me to the right.
Power. This is what real power looks like, to make a place like thisexist.
We’re at least three hundred floors up, and the event space is a giant balcony that juts from the side of the palace. The inky sky stretches above our heads in a blanket of stars, and the floor is made entirely of glass, the surface so smooth and polished it looks like we’re walking on starlight. A thrill sends shivers over my skin.
The most eligible and wealthy of Lumathyst are milling about the large space, draped in red and sapphire and emerald and gold, most doing their best not to look down. Fear and discomfort are evident in the tight lines of their lips or the nervous flutter of their fingers as they talk and gossip and sip the sparkling wine being served by the royal staff.
“Clever,” I say, following Ivy and Layce as they head right for the food.
“What is?” Ivy asks, delicately plucking a ripe strawberry covered in fluffy cream from one of the many serving platters scattered atop rows and rows of tables lining the balcony. I follow suit, grabbing a chocolate-covered strawberry and popping it into my mouth. I moan, unable to contain it. We never have strawberries in the Ashlands.
When I come down from my high, I motion to the crystal-clear floor. “Intimidation,” I say. “Hosting the event in a space most find terrifying.”
Ivy and Layce are as unbothered as I am by the height and the appearance that nothing separates us from falling to our deaths. We’ve been in far tighter spots before and survived—like when Erin and I concocted a plan to steal food from a duke who was hosting a party in Oak and Iron.Ivy and Layce had of course tagged along. We’d almost made it out with our spoils when the host spotted me and waved down a kings’ enforcer who’d been lingering outside. Soon we were being chased through the streets by six enforcers and only managed to lose them by climbing one of the nearby taller buildings and hiding on a thin balcony that had seen much better days. We laughed about it after, but it had been a close call. Still, we’d taken all that stolen food to a home of starving Ashlanders, so it’d been worth it.
In comparison, walking on glass is a breeze.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep, robust voice announces over the twinkling music. “Please welcome the Legends of Chaos!”
The crowd around us shifts, energy sparking with excitement and awe as four men emerge from a private elevator. They’re each wearing a mask that’s identical to over two dozen others worn by their entourage, but even from here I can tell they’re built like royalty—soldiers’ bodies, each one cut from the same cloth. Good. Now I at least know their builds, so I can avoid them the entire night.
“And your hosts for the evening,” the announcer continues over the sounds of the crowd. “The kings of Lumathyst.”
Acid claws up my throat as I follow every single person around us—even the Legends—and bow as the four immortal kings appear from the same private elevator. One is dressed in glittering gold, a smirk the only thing truly visible beneath his diamond mask. Another wears emerald green, another ruby red, and the last, glimmering sapphire. They do not release us from our bows, and while hunched over, the crowd in the center of the balcony parts as thekings make their way to the opposite side, climbing a large dais and taking the four thrones positioned there.
The one in gold, King Baydel Lavine, stands after they’ve been served drinks and finally motions for us all to rise. Bastards.
“It is my honor,” King Baydel says to the silent crowd, “to welcome you all to the Legends’ sixth Choosing.” The diamonds in his mask sparkle distractingly beneath the lights. I have to squint as he scans the crowd. “One of you will be chosen as their potential…” A collective, hopeful energy flows through the crowd, and it’s an effort not to roll my eyes. “And if the goddesses will it, you will be a fated mate by the winter solstice.” He raises his glass and motions to the four Legends waiting patiently at the foot of the dais. “So, drink, dance, eat. Converse. And may the goddesses be with you.”
“Oh,please,” I whisper as the crowd claps and raises their glasses to him. The music swirls around us once more, the chatter cacophonous even in the exposed outdoors. A plethora of dresses swarms the Legends, the women practically stepping over one another to get to them first, all not-so-subtly displaying their numbered pin as clearly as they can. “Can’t they see the way King Baydel is looking at all of us?” I say to Ivy. “More like chattel for slaughter. And look…” I nod toward the women hovering around the Legends. “They’re flocking like good little sheep.”
Ivy starts to respond, but a deep, languid laugh resonates behind me. The sound sends warm shivers over my skin. I glance over my shoulder, trying to be casual about it, but fail miserably when I meet a pair of indigo eyes, barely visible behind his full-face mask. I feel his laugh in my bones, canstill see it in the way his eyes are smiling. I’d bet my entire wealth—which isn’t much—that he’s grinning beneath that mask.
Whirling back around, I try to catch the breath I somehow lost. Did he hear me? I thought only Ivy could hear, but if he did and helaughedat it? That level of disrespect is grounds for both of us to be thrown in the palace dungeons.
Dangerous, reckless.I’m not here to draw attention to myself. I need to be more careful.
I press against Ivy’s shoulder insistently, and we work our way deeper into the crowd, bringing Layce with us. I want to kick myself for looking back, but I can’t help it.
Purple eyes find mine among the sea of masks and bodies, and my stomachflips. The man holds my gaze for a few seconds before slowly turning away. I get a glimpse of short blue-black hair, like raven’s feathers, and a lithe body draped in midnight black, before he’s swallowed by the crowd.
“See something you like?” Layce teases.
“Definitely,” I admit. “Not that I’m looking.”
