Page 1 of The Never List
1
Rylee
“I could arrest you for dressing like that.” A familiar, authoritative voice sounds behind me, sending a chill skating along my spine. “But you know that, don’t you, Rylee?”
I freeze on the cobblestone road. I’ve just crossed the border into Leaf and Claw—a city I’m definitely not allowed to be in.
Ifeelhim before he reaches for me, like ice in my veins. Stopping or dodging his touch will only bring me trouble—and on tonight of all nights, trouble is the last thing I need.
Turner’s hand clenches my elbow, and he drags me around the corner of a simple stone tavern into a narrow, deserted alleyway. My heart hammers in my chest. He’s boxed me in, and no one will hear us over the celebrating inside. Unless someone stumbles into the alley to take a leak, I’m entirely on my own.
“I…” I glance down at the muted purple-and-green sheath dress I’ve borrowed from my best friend, Ivy. It’s elegant, even though it’s made from common materials sourced from the city of Cedar and Silk, and it’s long enough to cover my ash-caked shoes.
As an Ashlander—the lowest class in Lumathyst—I’mnot supposed to wear clothes above my station, let alone travel across borders. But I would stick out in this city if I’d worn my own clothes—brown, threadbare cotton pants and tunic—and I thought Ivy’s dress was safer. Clearly not.
“What trouble are you getting into tonight?” Turner presses, herding me farther into the alleyway. His golden kings’ enforcer uniform almost suffocates his stocky frame, making it look like it’ll pop at the seams. His face is round, that smug, domineering grin transforming him into something I’ve come to fear the past six months.
It hadn’t been like that in the beginning.
In the beginning, he’d been a fun distraction. Seducing a kings’ enforcer is no easy feat for an Ashlander like me, and he seemed like a good ally to have. Kings’ enforcers are the power on the streets, doing the kings’ bidding to keep all of us in line, and being on Turner’s good side has kept me out of prison a time or two.
But it didn’t take me long to figure out who he really is and what hereallyliked…which is to take and punish and terrorize. He’s held me in a trap ever since, using his authority over me as a weapon.
“I’m not getting into any trouble,” I finally answer, slipping into an innocent tone. Of all the times for him to be patrolling this border, why now?
I haveoneshot at finding my sister, and tonight is it. Seeing as what I intend to do could land me in prison orworse, get me killed, I really don’t have time for this.
“That’s hard to believe,” he says, shoving me back against the wall of the building.
I flinch, then take a deep breath and slip on a mask of indifference with a side of nothing-in-my-brain. He likes itbetter when I play dumb. Likes it when I pretend that I don’t have the strength to put two thoughts together outside of sayingyes.
He slides his short sword out of its sheath, hovering the tip just in front of my neck. It takes everything I have not to draw away at the sight of that fucking sword—the one he’s threatened me with more times than I can count.
“I’m not out to cause any trouble,” I reassure him again.
“Then what’s an Ashlander like you doing wearing something like this?” He gently taps the thin fabric of my dress with the flat of his blade.
Catching me like this, Turner has grounds to throw me in the royal dungeons or ship me across the seas. Not for the first time, I fall into a well of hate for the kings who, centuries ago, decided to draw lines on a map, ensuring anyone born on the wrong side of them was stripped of rights the wealthy have naturally.
“You’re not thinking of trying to sneak into the Choosing, are you?” he asks.
I widen my smile until it hurts and graze my fingers down the hilt of his sword suggestively. “You think I’m foolish enough to do that?”
“I hope not, seeing as it’s what killed your sister.”
I blink. Slowly. Nothing going on in my mind, indeed. Definitely not thoughts of turning that blade on him. See how he likes it. Definitely not of the argument dancing on my tongue: my sisterisn’tdead.
She’s not. She can’t be.
“Wait,” he says with a hoarse laugh. “Tell me you didn’t win one of the lottery invitations and you thinkthis”—he drags the tip of his sword down my bodice—“is what royaltywears?”
Another blink. I add a mindless giggle for good measure. “An Ashlander has never won an invitation,” I say. I gesture to the wall behind me, toward the sounds of music and merriment. “The taverns. The barkeeps shower girls with free drinks on Choosing night. I just want to have a little fun with my friends,” I continue, pursing my lips in a pout. “Can’t I have a little fun tonight, Turner?”
I want to vomit from the act, from how I’m forced to behave in the hopes he’ll let me go. On any other night, I might’ve risked at least trying to fight him off, but that takes time I don’t have. The Choosing will start soon, and I only have a small window to do what I need to do.
Turner laughs so hard, spit hits my cheek. My eye twitches, but I don’t break. I have to get to Ivy’s quickly, and I don’t have time for a scene, especially not an argument that could lead to him messing up my face. I have to look pristine tonight. No ash, no dirt, and definitely no bruises.
“The things you Ashlanders do for a drink,” he says, reeling in his laughter. He looks over my body again, and my skin crawls. He doesn’t own me, and I hate…hatethat I ever let him between my legs. Hate that I ever thought he was decent, kind. It was all a show to ensnare me.The snake.
