Page 18 of The Never List
“You can do this, Rylee,” Layce says. “If any one of us can pull it off, it’s you.”
“Even if,” I say, “and that’s a giantifI can get them to fall for me, there’s the Athanry to contend with.” Spiders dance down my spine at the thought.
“One impossible situation at a time,” Ivy says, shifting back enough to wind her fingers through my own. “You survive,” she demands. “I don’t want to go through this life without you.”
“Me either,” Layce adds.
I glance between them both, a sliver of air working its way into my lungs.
Another breath as I focus on their scents, theircomforting embrace—my best friends, my sisters not by blood but bybond.
“Now,” Ivy says, her eyes widening as the kings’ enforcers draw near, the crowd still clapping in awe around us. “Pull up that mask of confidence you’re so damned good at and go win over four mates.” She smirks, adjusting my butterfly mask where it tilted. “And then relish as they fight foryourapproval.”
When she puts it that way, it seems so easy. Impossibly so, but I cling to the fantasy as they both release me.
“I love you both,” I say as one enforcer gently tugs me away from them.
Ivy and Layce mouth the words back, their smiles stretched but believable as they clap with the crowd, but I can see it in their eyes, despite Ivy’s confidence. There’s true panic there, and fear, and maybe a little grief. Because the three of us know the odds of me escaping this alive.
It’s more likely that I’ve just said my final goodbye to my two best friends in the world.
“Right this way,” the enforcer says as he leads me through the crowd, his hand on my shoulder directing me, as if I had a choice to go any other direction.
I close my eyes for the briefest of breaths, digging and clawing up the mask I’ve worn more times than I can count—the one that fools nobility on the regular. I’ve never tested it like this before, though. Never with actual royalty. And even as I slide it into place—drawing up a sugar-sweet smile that would make any noble Lumathyst citizen who vied for the role of potential mate proud—I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being escorted to my execution with a melody of applause behind me.
“Address the kings first,” the enforcer says, his voice gruff, his grip tightening on my shoulder enough that I have to physically stop myself from pulling away from him. Stop myself from twisting out of his grasp and laying him on his ass. Erin and I spent countless hours sparring with each other back in the Ashlands, ensuring we could defend ourselves against enforcers who liked to take liberties. I could do it. I could make him wish he’d never touched me…
But that’s not what a potential mate would do. Not one who actually wanted to get chosen.
My heels clink against the glass dais stairs as he draws us up them, stopping us before the kings, who haven’t budged from their thrones.
The enforcer drops his touch, and I suck in a deep breath, holding my smile in place as I survey the kings.
What the goddesses am I supposed to do now?
Think, think, think. What would a noble do? Goddesses, what wouldIvydo?
With no time, I count on my instincts and make my way to the king on the farthest left, bowing so deeply my black skirts flare about the dais, hiding my legs.
“Rise,” the king says. Jullian Erhart. That’s who I’ve bowed to first. He gives me a simple nod before I can study the eyes behind the mask, and I take my dismissal, moving on to the next king. I repeat the process until I come to the last king.
Baydel Lavine is more animalistic-looking than the others, despite the mask. I think it has to do with the way he’s surveying me like I’m a meal he’s in desperate need of, and he’s the only king who sticks out his hand.
At first, I almost move to shake it. But that’s ridiculous.Kings don’t shake hands, and with the way he’s holding it, palm down, his fingers loose and hanging toward the dais, I know what he’s demanding.
Acid claws up my throat. This prick wants me tokisshis hand.
Another tremor racks my body, but I lock my muscles down before inching my way toward him, still bowed, still wearing that ridiculous grateful smile as I press my lips to the back of his hand. For half a second, I envision sliding two of the jeweled rings right off his fingers, but I quickly squash the instinct.
Once a thief, always a thief.
“You may stand,” Baydel says, his voice rumbling over the crowd. Everyone goes silent at the sound. “Turn and face them,” he says a little lower.
I obey despite wanting to protest on principle. It feels wrong to turn my back on the kings.
Most of the crowd is smiling up at us, their eyes hazed from drink behind their masks, but there are more than a few women shooting me death glares. I hold my grin but sharpen my gaze across them. I’ve never been one to take kindly to judgment—credit can go to everyone spitting on Ashlanders my entire life. It just twists me up the wrong way.
But a higher-class lady wouldn’t stoop so low as to glare back at the jealous crowd. So, I tip my chin up, searching the sea of faces for my friends. I find them wearing expressions of approval, hands clasped as Ivy sends me an almost imperceptible nod. I can practically hear her in my head, saying,Good, make them fall. Make them all fall.
