Page 14 of The Never List
ButIcare. I care so deeply about this.
My pulse races as I unroll scroll after scroll, searching, searching…
The Never List.I try not to squeal in victory.Almost there, Erin. Wherever they sent you, I’m coming.I hurry through the list of names and take a silent moment to thank the goddesses that it’s in alphabetical order.
“Gray, Gray, Gray.” I whisper our surname. “Goddess, how many Grays are on this thing?” There are so many, the common surname going on for ages. Several of them havePalace Dungeonsnext to them; some of them are stricken through with a thick line of ink, which I assume means they’ve passed.
I pause when I see our parents’ names and the locationErithmorewritten next to them. I swallow around the lump in my throat, the old wound throbbing with a dull ache only decades of separation can manage.
Despite the hardship they’d faced, my parents lived a simple life and were content with the family they’d built. Their first names were never added under theGraysurname on the list until they were caught crossing borders one night, dressed above their station—my father wanted to take my mother to a tavern in Leaf and Claw for their anniversary celebration. Their punishment earned them a one-way trip to Erithmore on a fatal mission for the kings.
That was the year I turned twenty-one, reaching the age of maturity where we stop counting the years. We live hundreds of years if we’re lucky, but usually that high number is only reached by the wealthy, who can afford to live that long.
There’s no line stricken through their names, so a small hope grows that they may be alive in Erithmore.
Just as quickly that hope disappears.
They left two decades ago. We never saw them again. It’s a fool’s dream to think them anything but dead.
I move past their names, waiting for Erin’s to appear. For her name to jump out at me with the location appointed to her when she got caught here last year, whether that bedungeons or somewhere overseas. Because that’s whathadto happen, even though it doesn’t make sense.
Erin could get out of any tight situation, physically or mentally. She could charm or seduce her way out of the worst trouble with the kings’ enforcers and was practically best friends with the shadows. How did she get caught? How in the goddesses’ names did she draw enough attention to herself for them to realize she was an Ashlander?
“Gray, Gray, Gray…”
I hunch over the scroll, my eyes darting back and forth a few times, checking the aliases I’ve known her to use, too…
She’s not here.
Her name isn’t on the list.
My stomach drops to the floor, and I back away from the scroll like it might explode any second—some horrible, awful trick set just for me by the kings.
But I’m not significant enough to merit a trick from them, so I hurry to roll it back up and return it exactly as I found it.
Slowly, I walk toward the double doors, my mind whirling.
If Erin didn’t make the Never List, then what happened to her?
A traitorous image flashes through my mind, one of Erin meeting someone at the Choosing and running away with them. Starting a new life somewhere far, far away from the Ashlands. She could do it. She could succeed in the shadows, live unchecked and unmarked by the kings’ enforcers if she wished, but we’d always wanted to stay and do what we could to help the people there. Stealing food was a weekly outing we did together, along with scavengingfor clothes or medicine for those who needed it, too.
What if she wanted to put all that behind her? Saw a way out and took it?
I force the thoughts away. She wouldn’t have left me behind—
The door swings open just as I’m reaching for it.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice says, a pair of indigo eyes locking with mine. “What have we here?”
My lips slip into the innocent smile I know men love, and I tilt my head to the side for good measure. “The funniest thing,” I say as I look up at him. “I was searching for the wash chamber and found this place instead. Can you blame me for sneaking a peek?” I stroll to the nearest shelf, trailing my fingers over the spines. “I’m a sucker for a good book.”
He stalks over to me, hands sliding into his pockets. The metal mask looks more intimidating in this light, the angles sharper, the slash for the mouth more severe. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as he stops before me, leaning one arm on the shelf to the left of my face, partially caging me in.
I wait for the instincts to rise, the same ones that are triggered whenever Turner has me up against a wall, cornered and helpless.
But they don’t.
For some reason, I’m not afraid of this stranger when I most certainly should be. He’s obviously wealthy, and if he knew I’m an Ashlander? Goddess, he could have me thrown in the dungeons with a snap of his fingers.
