Page 55 of The Never List
“What was the man’s crime?” Anticipation tightens my skin, my heart thumping against my chest as I wait. Could it be because the man was an Ashlander crossing borders? Stealing food? I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, Kal’s answer holding the power to determine my next choices in such an intense way.
Kal’s anger turns his blue eyes into chips of ice. “The man was a father,” he says. “Estranged from his wife. She’d taken their child across borders in an attempt to flee from him. She came from Jax’s city, fleeing all the way into mine because of the way he treated them.”
“If she had to flee…” I say, my imagination running wild.
“He hurt them,” he answers for me. “And if that wasn’t enough, he found them here and tried to take the child against their will back to the Obsidian City. The wife begged an audience with me, told me what happened, and we Legends reacted. If you feel we were unjust in ouractions—”
“I don’t,” I say, reaching out and placing my hand on one of his fists, which rest on the railing of the bridge. “I don’t,” I say again, relief unwinding inside me.
The crime was severe. So was their action.
Kal sighs. “Pierce’s power can be a terrifying thing,” he says. “His ability to slip into any mind he wants is why so many keep their distance from him. Same as Jax. The knowledge that if he wished it, he could make you feel like you were dying, make you feel like you were being chased by a monster while doing nothing but sitting still.” He unclenches his fist, smoothing his hand into mine. “But their powers are beneficial, ensuring that when wedodeliver justice, it’s absolutely vindicated. Pierce saw what the man had done to his wife and child. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was guilty of the crime, and therefore we carried out the punishment without remorse. That doesn’t sit well with some people,” he says. “I know that. I know not everyone agrees with the way we handle situations like that.”
“And the kings spin the story to make it seem like some law was broken and you four enacted the justice necessary…to remind everybody to never break the kings’ laws?” I ask, shaking my head. “And all of you just ignore these stories? Ignore these rumors that paint you as ruthless vigilantes who take pleasure in doling out their own forms of justice within their own territories? Doesn’t it bother you?”
Kal shrugs again. “We know the truth. And our people—the ones who are invested in our cities—they know the truth as well.” He motions a hand toward the city behind us. “As I’m sure you’ve seen. It’s not like my people are spitting onmy boots when we pass them on the streets.”
He’s not wrong. I haven’t met one citizen here who seems ill content with him.
“And those rumors act as a deterrent,” he continues. “If those stories the enforcers or the kings’ Occuli weave discourage even the most basic of crimes, it’s a small price to pay, having those who don’t really know you think you’re a monster.”
I let the weight of his words settle over me, let the information sink in. Some of my worries are soothed, but I have more questions than answers.
If what he says is true, then there are many in the lower cities who deserve to know the truth about their princes. But perhaps they’re waiting until they ascend the thrones to make their true intentions known. Maybe the kings would stop any effort to explain to the people that their intentions are good and their actions are for the collective.
Or maybe it’s all bullshit. A pretty story told by a devilishly handsome man in order to ensnare a mate. I feel that’s the least likely possibility, but it’s a thought I can’t erase.
“Do you have any more questions for me?”
“You mean, do I have anything to make this conversation any heavier and more awkward?” I ask, a soft smile on my face.
Kal laughs, and I join in, the tension in my chest easing as we make our way back to the easier ground that we’ve treaded upon for the last three weeks.
I loop my arm through his, leaning my head against its bulging muscle. “What parts of the city have I not seen yet?”
“Several,” he says, his effortless smile returning. “Wouldyou like to see more of it?”
“Please.”
We spend the next hour exploring more parts of Kal’s city. Gorgeous hand-carved fountains set amongst lush gardens that separate the bustling city buildings. Delightful cafés with endless varieties of coffee. We walk by the playhouse, a gorgeous structure hewn out of stone and inlaid with rubies, where the Ruby Aire Players’ home stage is housed.
I find myself relaxing the more we tour his town, the more people we pass who smile and wave and bow to their prince, to their Legend. They do not balk or cower from him. They don’t turn their noses up in disgust. Certainly not the reactions of people who are terrified of him. There’s a respect and compassion between everybody we pass that makes me question everything I thought I once knew.
We turn a corner, exiting the theater district and moving on to the next, and come upon a large stone building that’s covered in an array of colors and swirls of paint.
“It’s a community art wall. The Ruby Aire takes pride in artistic expression. We even have a small gallery in the library featuring local artists,” Kal explains.
I admire the art along the building as we walk, but I stop in my tracks when I come across a particular section.
“Do you like it?” he asks as he pauses by my side.
The slashes of yellow and black, the way the delicate lines swirl and whirl together to create the shape of a thin black cat with yellow eyes staring right at me with cunning—it makes my heart stop and restart in my chest. I stumble closer, reaching out to touch it, as if I’ll feel wet paint and be able to turn my head and see my sister standing there, abrush in her hand.
I know this cat. Iknowthis work.
Erin found a stray cat wandering by our hovel in the Ashlands years ago. She’d tried to domesticate him, but he never allowed it. Eventually, she was content to set out what little food we could scrounge up for him, and he’d come and go at his leisure. She painted him on the wall where her cot was tucked. She’d painted a moon on my side, since I loved it so much.
“Forget me.” I read the tiny words written next to the cat’s right ear out loud, my heart clenching in my chest.
