Page 33 of The Never List
History says they’re from a forgotten kingdom but were welcomed by the goddesses when they traveled here. The most powerful among them now serve the kings as an unbiased band of scribes, entrusted to provide truthful accounts of the most important concerns to the people of Lumathyst in their daily royal posts.
They aren’t only terrifying because of their power, but because they have no stake in anything beyond relaying the facts.
“I’ve heard of them,” I say.
“Thank goddess,” she says. “The history of the Occuli is one I’d rather not rush through, and we’re running out of time. They will observe and report everything to the kings.”
“They’ll be following us,” I say, dread twisting my stomach.
“Only in public,” she assures me. “The princes long ago forbade the Occuli from entering any of their private residences. But they’re stealthy beings. Some can shift into shadows. Be on guard. Always.”
I silently thank her for the private warning.
“After the tests and the months spent with each Legend…if they deem me worthy, I’ll earn their tokens? Then at the final Choosing ceremony, I decide whether to choose them forever and go through the Athanry, where I submit myself to the goddesses to become immortal?”
She nods.
“I read that none have ever made it as far as the Athanry and that most left as soon as they could declare their rejection. The royal post never explained why.”
“Why does anyone reject another?” she asks. “Because they weren’t the right fit.”
The walls seem to press in around me. I doubt a lying Ashlander is the right fit for them, either.
“You don’t think it was the Legends forcing their hand?” I ask. “Telling the potentials not to choose them because they didn’t want a mate?”
Offense ripples over her features. “Absolutely not. Theprinces want a mate. Need one. But they need therightone. It is no small feat to love them all, especially when they’re so starkly different. And constantly being around that much power can be overwhelming. Only someone strong will be able to adapt and rise to their level. Someone fated. The goddesses ensured it when they forged the Choosing when the princes were young.”
Chills erupt over my skin. Goddess, she speaks of them in such a protective, almost motherly tone. She’s hopeful for them. For me to be the right one.
But I’m not. I’m a liar. A fake. Definitely not fated.
Guilt eats at my insides, but I shove it down. It’s lie or die. I won’t nobly sacrifice myself for their cause.
“None of the potentials have ever earned the princes’ tokens, right?” I ask.
“Correct.”
Worry makes my skin feel too tight. How will I ever win their trust if no one else has before?
“And regarding the nature of the Athanry, I’ve only heard the histories of when the kings were turned immortal,” I say. “Do you know what it will be like?”
Mirren’s eyes narrow, and something like respect flickers there for just a moment. “Already planning that far ahead? Are you so confident?”
“Not at all,” I answer honestly. “But I like to know what I’m walking into. Especially from someone as close to the events as you’ve been. Did the other potentials not ask these things?”
“This conversation is the longest I’ve had with a potential.”
I frown. “But you said you were their handmaiden—”
“Yes,” she cuts me off. “And normally, nobility doesn’t converse with servants.” Her eyes shimmer with something curious, and I swallow hard.
Already I’m not behaving like the others. Shit shit shit.
I take a breath, forcing myself to calm. The others failed. Perhaps being a little different will help me in the end. Being different…maybe that’s the key. Everything I know about the other potentials from Mirren and the stories I read paints them the same way—noblewomen, or women acting like royalty. Behaving like princesses born for the throne.
That’s not me, so it won’t be hard to stand out. I wasn’t born and raised to be a royal offering. I was bred to work and scrape and dig my way out of the Ashlands, so pretending to be a princess isn’t an option. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think that’s what the princes need anyway.
They’re dubbed the Legends of Chaos for a reason. It’s already clear to me that they’re fiercely protective and loyal—nothing and no one can threaten the things they hold dear without swift punishment. Men like that don’t need a silent princess; they need a sharp warrior, someone who will fight by their side and not cower in fear when their darkness comes out to play.
