Page 15 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

White stone and wrought iron–framed windows create Kal’s gated estate. Rows of fresh roses line the base of the home, all expertly cared for and manicured. The structure sits on an expansive piece of land, and to the west, I can just see the top of the massive ruby statue of one of our sleeping goddesses—his mother, Neph. I wonder if he had the home built here so he could always see her in the distance. The house itself is bigger than any I’ve ever seen, with the exception of the palace.

Mirren guides me up the steps to Kal’s front doors—large glass doors rimmed in a ruby red border, allowing the entirety of his entryway to be seen. Golden lights flicker from the inside as Mirren slides a key into the lock and ushers us in, then secures the door behind us.

The Occuli had stopped cold outside of Kal’s gates, as if they’d been repelled by an invisible border. It’s a relief, if not a blessing.

My heels click against the polished marble floor as I follow Mirren inside. A sweeping staircase with rich wooden steps dominates the entrance, and a sitting room lined with lush furniture rests to our left, a long hallway to our right.

“I’ve already had your things brought to your rooms,” Mirren says, not bothering to look behind her as she climbs the stairs. I hurry to follow, tearing my attention from my surroundings as she reaches the second-floor landing. “Kal’s room is that way.” She points to the left down a corridor that ends in a set of double doors. “Your room is this way,” she says, turning right. “It’s the only other room on this floor.”

“I won’t be sharing a room with Kal?” I ask, unable to stop and admire the art on the walls because Mirren is walking so fast.

“You may,” she says. “That depends on you and Kal. You’ll work out the official arrangements soon enough, but for now, I assumed you wanted your own space.” She opens another set of double doors and walks inside.

The room is as grand as the rest of the house, with a layout similar to the room I spent the night in at the palace. An oversize bed, a balcony overlooking the grounds, a wardrobe, and a bar stocked with food and drinks.

Something pricks my chest at the ease with which this room was prepared for me, at the wealth one must have in order to snap their fingers and stock it in a matter of hours. What else can that wealth do if directed toward those who need it most?

I rub my chest while examining the room, scanning it for anything out of place—a habit I picked up from Erin, who always pushed me to listen to my instincts and not be lazy when it came to protecting myself. Missing her has become an entire part of my personality, so normal and consistent I’m used to the ache. What would she make of all this?

I grin slightly, thinking about how she’d give me grief for getting caught at the Choosing, for putting myself in a position like this at all.

I blink out of my longing and look toward Mirren. “Can we speak freely here?” I ask.

“It’s safe here,” she says. “All the princes ensure their homes are magically soundproofed, and only those they trust have a key.”

“You’re one of those people,” I say.

“I am.” She lingers near the doorway. “I have been for a long time.”

“I imagine there aren’t many people on that list.”

Mirren shakes her head.

“Will you tell me what happened tonight?” I ask, hopeful. I hate being in the dark, hate feeling like I’m missing something, but she has no obligation to tell me anything. I’m merely a potential mate in a long succession of those who came before me. She could view me as a fleeting part of the Legends’ lives, which would give her no reason to trust and confide in me. But she’s given me answers before, so I hope she will again.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Mirren tips her chin, her eyes as hard as glass. “Why do you care?”

I gape at her, shocked at the switch in her tone. I walk over to the little bar and select an amber-filled decanter, sloshing the liquid into two crystal glasses. I carry them and the decanter to the group of couches and armchairs across the room, sliding into one and setting the extra glass on a table between us.

“I want to know,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “because for the foreseeable future, the Legends and I are linked. Even if they don’t choose me in the end or I them, for now, we’re in this together. If I can help them, I will.” I take a sip of the liquor, the sweet burn easing the tension in my chest. “Plus,” I continue, “I know it’s been a short time—too quick, actually, to make sense—but…” I’m surprised at how true my words are. I might be speaking tactically to persuade Mirren back to my side, but I’m not just telling her what I think she wants to hear. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of them. And from the energy tonight? It looked like something bad.”

Mirren purses her lips, smoothing out her top, which doesn’t have a wrinkle in sight, before she walks over and takes a spot on the loveseat across from me. She grabs the drink and takes a healthy gulp. “None of the others ever asked,” she says. “They never bothered to care about the business of the Legends outside of their dealings with them directly.”

I silently wait for her to continue.

“Not that these particular…disturbances occurred last year, but the princes will always have Legend business to tend to. It comes with the role of ruling territories. There are always those who want to upset the balance and disturb the peace, and the princes are doing their best to minimize the damage to their people. Tonight, though, it’s a recent development.” She sighs. “But they’ve always had to clean up messes. Fix what’s broken, scare those who like to do the breaking.”

“You’re speaking in a code I don’t fully understand.”

“You’ll learn,” she says. “If you’re smart.”

I laugh softly and take another drink. “Suppose we’ll see about that one. Now, tell me.”

Her eyes dart around the room, her shoulders tensing as she finishes off her drink. “Recently, there have been attacks in random places throughout the princes’ territories. More than the regular infractions—like the enhancement-drug runners or internal fights between rivals.”

“What? Who would be bold enough to make direct attacks against the royal cities?”

The stories of the Legends’ thirst for violence are, well… legendary . I may not have seen that rage yet, but I haven’t exactly given them a reason to show me, either.

“Rumors say they call themselves the Faders,” she explains. “A group of rebels comprised of some of our own and, we suspect, those from across the sea.”

“There are people from Erithmore here?” My skin tightens at the thought. I’ve grown up hearing stories of Erithmore—the country to the north whose people loathe all things Lumathyst. The kings have issued dozens of mandatory royal posts warning of the threat they pose against us, urging us to comply, submit, and support the royal cities in order to ensure our protection against them. So many Never List missions have been dispatched to try to maintain a tentative peace with Erithmore, too, only for those put on the list to never return.

I swallow around a rock in my throat. If the kings charged Erin with such a mission…

No. It would’ve been in the records. Hundreds of those missions were listed “bound for Erithmore,” and her name wasn’t there.

“Yes,” Mirren answers, drawing me to the present.

“What’s their agenda?”

She leans back against the loveseat. “It’s too early to tell. So far, they’ve been focused on destruction in the Legends’ cities. Sometimes, in their efforts to destroy important property, some of the princes’ people get hurt.”

My heart rate kicks up, and I take a deep breath to slow it down. “Why haven’t I heard about this? Why isn’t the news a mandatory royal post?” Even in the Ashlands, we’re forced to listen to political messages in the town squares.

“The kings don’t know if the instigators are organized professionals or rebellious youths in over their heads. They’re leaning toward the latter.”

I tilt my head. “You don’t believe it’s youths,” I say, “and neither do the Legends. If they did, they wouldn’t have left like that.” Masks and jackets on, eyes ice-cold, powers crackling.

“How do you know?” she challenges. “You’ve just met them. Who’s to say they don’t rush off like that at any supposed threat to their territory? Haven’t you heard the stories of the Legends of Chaos? They rip apart anyone who tries to harm what belongs to them. Anyone who refuses to bow to them, anyone who refuses to obey their rules.”

I study her, noting the exaggerated way she says the last few sentences. “What do you think about the group, then? These Faders? Are they youths trying to show off or something more?”

She pours herself another drink. “Why does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me,” I say. “I value your insight.”

She blinks at me, shocked, before she settles back into her indifferent attitude. “I think it’s more. I think it’s happening too frequently to be youths playing at being adults.”

“Well, if the threat is real, surely the kings would step in and assist, right? They wouldn’t leave it to their sons to handle everything. They could back the Legends with all of the kings’ enforcers if they wished, and the kings would still be protected. That’s one of the reasons Erithmore has kept its distance for so long, along with the magical protection of the goddesses’ wards. They can’t match the kings’ armies.”

Mirren looks like she wants to agree with me, but all she does is take a sip of her drink.

“Whoever they are,” I continue, “they’re mad. Everyone in Lumathyst knows even thinking about rebellion ends in a dungeon or a public execution.”

“You aren’t wrong,” she says, but there is a wariness about her that unsettles me.

Considering any form of rebellion is ludicrous, but I suppose knowing the way the kings will deal with it doesn’t mean someone isn’t foolish enough to attempt it. Even in the Ashlands, where souls are broken in the mines, whispers of rebellion and change are exchanged, though they’re never acted on. They’re more like tiny drops of hope to get us through each day, of a future we’ll never see.

“And they’re harming people?” I shake my head. “The enforcer said five were hurt.”

“It seems that anyone who happens upon them or gets in their way ends up getting hurt.”

“I thought life on this side of the border was perfect,” I mutter.

“This side of the border,” Mirren repeats, slowly sliding to the edge of the loveseat.

“Yes,” I say quickly, burying the panic in my heart. “There isn’t a whisper of this in Cedar and Silk.” At least that much I know is true; Layce would’ve told me. Same for Ivy in Leaf and Claw.

Mirren studies me for a moment. “The kings will deliberately keep it that way. They’d never allow such unsubstantiated rumors to reach the cities where…unrest is most likely to take root.”

“But the more people they make aware, the more eyes would be on the lookout for the danger.”

“Maybe,” she says. “These Faders seem to be well trained. They blend in like shadows in the corners. Yet another reason to not believe it’s youths.” She nods to a shadow behind the wardrobe, and chills burst along my skin. “The Legends have yet to catch one alive.”

“What power could they possibly have to stand against the Legends?”

“That’s the question,” she says. “The one that’s driving the princes mad. The Faders aren’t regular citizens—they have power of their own. Power that should’ve long weakened many generations ago.”

My stomach turns. “Demis?” I breathe the question.

“Most likely,” Mirren says with a cold finality that has my bones frosting over. “But there is no proof. They could be using enhancement elixirs. That much hasn’t been uncovered yet. Could you imagine what would happen if word got out that the remaining demis who aren’t imprisoned are no longer loyal and are, in fact, growing in numbers? That their powers haven’t been diluted by time?”

Demis would face more suspicion than ever before. I’m not sure I’m breathing.

The power in my blood thrashes, and a small breeze flutters past the two of us. My heart pounds harder—there isn’t even an opened window I can blame it on—but it’s light enough that Mirren doesn’t seem to notice.

“The Legends have been hurt by these Faders before?” I ask, worry leaking into every inch of my being.

“A few times, a Fader has gotten lucky and taken a piece out of one of our princes, but they’re so powerful, they heal quickly.” Her eyes go distant, reliving some memory I can’t even try to contemplate. I’m too busy spiraling inside.

I knew Erin, Ivy, Layce, and I couldn’t be the only demis with stronger-than-average powers hiding in plain sight, but I never once thought there were some out there organizing against the Legends, against Lumathyst.

Even if there’s no proof, I know it’s more likely to be demis than enhancements—the tonics and powders cultivated on the dark market that give the user enhanced abilities for a short burst of time. They have side effects I’ve seen firsthand on the poor souls in the Ashlands who spend all they have on one taste, one boost that helps them escape their reality, even for a moment. Wouldn’t the Legends easily be able to tell the difference between the two forms of power?

And now that I know the Faders are attacking the Legends and their cities… goddess , if the Legends figure out what I am, they might think I’m a part of that group. They might think I’m a Fader sent to weaken them from the inside out—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I just want to survive and live long enough to find my sister.

Mirren rises after I’ve been silent too long, heading toward the doors.

“Mirren,” I say just as she’s opened it. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for caring enough about them to ask,” she says. “They aren’t used to that. The princes are used to being wanted for their power, wealth, and status. There are few out there who actually care about their safety, physical or emotional. Even some of their own fathers…” She cuts herself off. “Anyway, I hope you know what you’re doing, Rylee Gray. Hope you know what you’re getting involved with.”

My eyes widen just a fraction, but she gives me a nod and shuts the doors behind her when she leaves.

It’s an hour before I’ve calmed my racing mind, and my fear of discovery gives way to worry that Kal has not yet returned. Another hour before I’ve shed my day clothes and slipped into an oversize white tunic, leaving my legs and feet bare as I pace the room.

It’s another two before I realize I haven’t even tried to sit or sleep, too busy warding off scenes playing out in my mind—gruesome battles where Kal and the Legends are harmed, or stealthy fights where Kal doesn’t see a blow coming, injuring him beyond repair.

And just before dawn, my incessant worry transforms into anger—downright irrational anger at Kal for leaving me behind.

Something gnaws at me. A desperation shaking inside me, reaching out for the Legends in a way I don’t understand, like a thread stretched too tight over a long distance.

Kal should’ve taken me. Should’ve kept me by his side. Anything would’ve been better than this…waiting with no word. Not knowing if they are alive and safe or bleeding out in the darkness.

A deep, boiling rage builds inside me at just the thought of any one of them being harmed, and it’s powerful enough to shake my senses. I don’t know these men. Why should I care so much?

If something happens to them, I’ll be fodder for the kings. That’s the source behind the worry—

I hear the grand entryway doors open, and I’m out of my room in a heartbeat.