Page 17 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

“So, tell me more about the Legend side of your life,” I prompt Kal as we walk along the Riverwalk in the Ruby Aire.

It’s been three incredible weeks here…something I never expected. Kal has been a gracious host, showing me his city and introducing me to his people, contradicting everything I’ve ever heard about the prince before.

He’s kind and generous, but I haven’t seen the side I’ve heard rumors about. And as our time runs short, I finally work up the courage to ask. I feel like I have to know this side of him before I have any chance of asking for his help finding Erin, no matter how generous he may seem.

Kal pauses in the middle of the bridge, leaning his forearms over the stone railing, glancing out at the winding river below. It’s midday, and we just finished a fantastic lunch at another wonderful restaurant Kal introduced me to. The foot traffic is low—there’s no one else on the bridge right now but us.

He glances away from the river and at me, where I’ve come to lean next to him. “What do you want to know?”

I shake my head. “Can I be honest with you?”

“After the past three weeks together, I thought you’d know by now that I prefer it that way,” he says, and the slightest pang of guilt hits my chest. I’ve mostly been myself these past few weeks, but I’ve hidden those pieces of myself that could get me killed. I probably shouldn’t have phrased the question like that, but the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more comfortable I’ve grown and the less of a filter I’ve had on my mouth.

“I’m having a hard time reconciling the Kal I’ve seen these past few weeks, the one I’ve grown to know on many levels”—my cheeks flush at the way his blue eyes darken at that insinuation; we’ve been intimate many times, each better than the last, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think we matched on every level in that regard—“with the stories I’ve read in the royal post or have been told by the enforcers. They don’t really align.”

“My friends and I stopped reading the royal post years ago,” Kal says. “Why don’t you enlighten me on some of those stories you’ve heard about the Legends of Chaos?”

A dozen stories come to mind, most of them overheard or deliberately spread throughout the Ashlands by the kings’ enforcers, but I’m apprehensive about sharing them if he doesn’t already know.

“You won’t offend me,” he says, clearly noticing my hesitance. “I promise you, Rylee. You’re safe with me. Hit me with it.”

I shrug, trying to not give weight to the rumors I’ve heard. “There are so many,” I say. “I heard one not too long ago that some nobility decided to steal from one of the Legends’ establishments. Someone from the lower cities. The stories didn’t say why or what he stole, but they did emphasize how the Legends dealt with the man.”

“And how was that?” Kal asks, nothing but intrigue in his eyes.

“They said the Mind slipped into the noble’s thoughts, finding proof of his crime. That the Player laughed as the Nightmare dangled him over the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, ensuring he manipulated his emotions to feel the most genuine terror, all while the Dreamer stripped him of his titles and wealth, so no future dreams could come true.”

Kal’s lips part slightly, and I swear there’s a hint of pain in his eyes. “What else?” he asks, an edge to his voice. “What else do the rumors say about us?”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” I whisper, a weight on my chest.

“I want you to ask.” He shifts his body to face me. “I never want you to be afraid to ask me anything. I’m just suddenly hit with curiosity. What else could they possibly be writing about us in the royal post?”

I swallow hard. “They say that the Dreamer is one who steals dreams—denying out-of-status marriages, denying wealth stipends to those in your cities who are not as wealthy as the others. They say that the Player finds pleasure in placing bets on whether or not criminals in his cities can hold their breath long enough as he controls water around their heads. They say the Mind will alter your very reality, making you believe you’re falling from the highest mountaintop or drowning in the darkest seas, all while choking the life out of you with those bands of energy he can control. They say the Nightmare laughs while he manipulates your emotions, making sure there’s so much terror running through your veins, you loose your bowels. That the Legends sometimes do all of these things…in the name of entertainment.”

Kal blows out a breath. “I knew the stories were bad,” he says, “but I hadn’t realized how bad.” He lifts those blue eyes to mine. “And what do you think, Rylee? You’ve been with me for three weeks now. You saw me rush off on Legend business before, saw me return. You’ve seen me with my people. What do you think about those tales?”

I worry my lip between my teeth. He’s not immediately denying the stories.

“I think they’re believable,” I say, noticing his slight flinch. “Believable if you have no contact with the Legends,” I continue. “What is everyone supposed to believe if there isn’t evidence to counter the rumors? They ensure that those who don’t really know you are afraid of you.” I shake my head. “But, after getting to know you…” My voice trails off as I silently question everything. “The way you are with your people, the kindness with which you approach everyone…I don’t think those stories are true about you, but perhaps they are about the other Legends? I don’t know them like I’ve gotten to know you. But if they aren’t true about any of you, I have to wonder why such rumors are around in the first place.”

“That’s a fair assessment,” Kal says as he nods. “I can’t say that some of the elements you’ve brought up aren’t true, especially about our powers. It’s no secret that the four of us are incredibly powerful, and the kings more so, but they aren’t as involved in territorial disputes because they’re ancient and uninterested in anything that happens outside of the royal city.” He sighs. “As long as everyone is still loyal to them, still paying their taxes, still paying tribute to them and supplying their armies with people, they don’t care. But I care. I care about what happens in my city. Pierce, Axl, and Jax care about what happens in theirs.”

“And outside your cities?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Who cares about them?”

Kal’s brow furrows. “The lower cities?”

I purse my lips. “Yes,” I say. “Those like mine.”

“We do our best to handle conflict in those cities when we can,” he explains. “But our fathers have put rules in place about the amount of aid we’re allowed to give.”

Emotion clogs my throat. “And you’re content with the way things are?”

“No,” he says. “And I have a sense you’re not, either.”

I shift my weight. We’ve never danced this close to the truth before…not this truth. “I think there’s a ton of work to be done in the lower cities. And after the wealth I’ve witnessed here, I know it’s possible.”

“That’s something you’d want to do?” he asks. “If…”

His voice trails off, and my heart flips in my chest from the weight of that if.

If I choose them in the end.

If I survive the Athanry.

If. If. If.

“Yes,” I finally answer. “I think there’s a way to help the lower cities without resorting to all the tactics the rumors speak of.”

Kal nods. “I won’t lie to you and pretend I’ve never used my powers to intimidate someone.”

My chest tightens at his admission, and suddenly I’m analyzing the last three weeks, wondering if the only reason he’s treated me so well is because he needs me so badly. Needs me to choose him, choose all of them so the powers he speaks of magnify to a point they could overthrow the kings if they wished.

“My city isn’t perfect,” he continues. “I don’t believe any city is. There are good people here with good intentions, and there are people here with bad intentions, too. When those intentions get bad enough to merit the Legends’ attention…” He shrugs. “We meet them with the full force of our powers.”

“And who decides what merits your attention? The kings?”

“Sometimes they advise us on investigating one crime or another,” he answers. “But usually, these matters are brought to us specifically by the citizens being affected.”

“Are you saying anyone in your city can have an audience with you? No matter their station?”

“I know that the laws in Lumathyst set forth by my father and the other kings say no,” he answers. “But my people know that there’s no fear when requesting my presence to discuss a grievance or a dream. Regardless of their station.”

I study the lines of his face, searching for those signs of deception I’ve gotten so good at reading thanks to a life of dealing with the kings’ enforcers—dealing with Turner and all the lies he spun before he showed his true self.

I see nothing like that on Kal’s face, nothing that would indicate he’s lying to me, telling me exactly what I want to hear in order to keep me invested in him. All I see is a heaviness in the set of his eyes, a tenseness along his broad shoulders, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he silently pleads with me to understand.

“So, you and the other Legends determine which people merit your intimidation or not?” I ask. “Was the first story true?”

“No,” he says, then tilts his head. “Not entirely.”

“Not entirely.” I repeat the words, my stomach sinking.

“The story got the intimidation practices right,” he admits. “Jax did dangle a man off a building while making him piss his pants. Axl made a bet on whether or not he would soil himself next. Pierce held his mind to have absolute proof of his crimes, and then I stripped him of all his titles and wealth.” He shakes his head. “But the reasoning behind it, that was a story spun by the Occuli and our fathers to be beneficial to their laws. What’s the point of printing a story if it doesn’t have some tie back to the kings and the laws of the realm they rule over?”

“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 our actions—”

“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 we do deliver 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 on my 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. “Would you 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, a brush in her hand.

I know this cat. I know this 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.

Forget me?

“Rylee?” There’s an edge of concern in Kal’s voice, and I blink a few times, remembering where I am and who I’m supposed to be. He reaches out to touch my shoulder. “Do you like this one?”

“I do,” I say, doing my best to hide the trembling in my fingers.

Erin used to do something like this in the Ashlands, sneaking around at night and dodging the enforcers so she could splash little bits of paint here and there on different buildings. There was always a buzzing whenever anyone saw a new painting of hers, but then we were all quickly forced to wash them away. The enforcers never allowed such little intrigues to happen freely.

When did she do this painting? Had she gone out of her way to stop here before heading to the royal city last year before the Choosing? Ivy and Layce never mentioned taking the time to do that.

“Do you know how long this has been here?” I ask, hoping he thinks it’s mere curiosity.

Kal scans the massive building, noting all the different illustrations, the variety of painters laying claim to a blank space and making it their own. He points at the cat, his eyes reflective. “This one…I believe is relatively new?” He says it as if he’s not entirely sure. “From here to there,” he says, pointing from the cat to a few feet down, where there are other random paintings, “I would say all happened in the last six months or so.” He says more confidently, “I came to the art district around that time when the Ruby Aire Players were performing a fairy tale. I made this walk, and a great deal of this was still blank.”

My heart races in my chest and my legs tremble. Six months ago. Could he be right? Or could his memory be faulty? It would be easy enough to not recall the exact time this was done. But if he’s right…

That means Erin was right here in the Ruby Aire within the last six months. She was alive then. Tears gather in the backs of my eyes. The relief morphs into something else, and my body tenses.

She was here, finding leisure time to paint, while I sat grief-stricken in the Ashlands, wondering what happened to her.

Anger and desperation and grief strike me so hard, I’m sure they’ll bring me to my knees. I reach for Kal’s arm, as much for stability as for comfort. My entire world feels as if it’s crumbling around me, more questions and uncertainties threatening to swallow me whole.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, ripping my eyes away from the painting that’s mocking me. Mocking my grief. Mocking the tears I’ve shed over Erin.

Maybe she really did meet somebody and run away without a second glance back. Maybe I didn’t know my sister at all.

No, that can’t be right. I shove away the irrational anger, forcing myself to breathe.

Forget me.

Erin knew me better than that. Knew that if I did happen upon this painting, I wouldn’t just accept forget me. And she certainly wouldn’t want me to forget her if she was out there living her best life. Which means…

She wants me to forget her because she’s in danger or in some kind of trouble she doesn’t want me involved in.

Or it’s nothing like that, and she painted the cat and titled it forget me as some sort of apology for the fact that she hadn’t been around to feed the cat in months. I had, and whenever I couldn’t, one of the children from a family living next door took care of it for me, knowing I’d bring them back whatever treats I’d been able to steal during my outings across borders. Damn, I’d owe the kid a mountain by the time I got back to the Ashlands… if I ever got back.

Ugh. Too many possibilities. But one thing is certain: she’s not overseas. Or wasn’t, in the last six months.

It doesn’t change things. Doesn’t change the fact that I want to find her. Only now I feel more like throttling her than hugging her for making my mind spin like this with worry.

Kal and I continue our walk, and his eyes light up as we near a pillared building with a set of grand stairs. “Would you like to see the library?”

“I would love to,” I say, nothing but honesty in my words. “You said there is a gallery with local artists there?”

“There is,” he says, smiling down at me.

I love books, though I doubt I’d be able to appreciate them right now. My mind keeps wandering to my sister, even as we ascend the stairs and enter the building.

I need to see that local artist gallery. Need to see if Erin left anything in there, too. Maybe it’ll give me another hint or some kind of answer to soothe my racing mind. The only thing I can cling to is the fact that Erin might be alive. Alive and well enough to paint. I should take more joy in that, more comfort, but I find myself confused and agitated at the uncertainty more than anything.

I’m in awe as we cross the polished marble floors, arching my neck to look up and up . Dozens of levels wrap around the building in a spiral, each set of stairs offering a new floor with new possibilities and stories to escape into. The place is drenched in the smell of parchment and leather and the hint of coffee brewing somewhere nearby. It’s a comforting smell, and my heart expands.

There are numerous people in here, some searching the stacks, others scribbling on parchment in little alcoves with tables and mugs of coffee. I glance over my shoulder, holding back my groan of irritation at the Occuli who followed us inside. They’re so out of place with their green flames in a space that contains mostly parchment.

“Your Highness.” A young man approaches us, bending low at the waist, a tome in his hand.

“Earl Marcus. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. Might I beg a minute of your time? I’ve been researching the strain of plants we discussed weeks ago, and I found some riveting answers.”

Kal glances at me, and I nod and wave off his silent question. “I’m going to find that art gallery,” I say, leaving the two to their discussion.

I wouldn’t have been able to resist a look around even if I’d been ordered to, but of course Kal does no such thing. With the help of a map posted near the stairs, I locate the art gallery Kal mentioned on the fourth floor of the library. The walls are adorned with pieces similar to the ones on the building outside, done by amateur artists who somehow create works that look even better than the ones hanging on the palace walls.

After a full turn around the room, I’m convinced none of the works here are my sister’s. Another dead end.

It’s not that I wanted my sister to be on a Never List mission or locked in the dungeons. I never wanted her to be in danger. But this? Why would she do this?

I come across a private room behind a closed door. The etching on the glass reads Royals Only . I peek through the glass and see tomes laid out on the table and more art decorating the walls inside of it. There’s another painting of a cat, but I can only see a fourth of it from this angle. Glancing quickly up and down the hall to make sure I’m alone, I open the door and walk in without a second thought about the sign.

My heart deflates, the breath rushing out of my lungs when I’m close enough to see that the painted cat is nothing like the style my sister uses. I pride myself a little on being able to recognize her work so certainly but hate the disappointment that rings through me that it’s not hers.

What did I think would happen if I found another one of her pieces, anyway? That there’d be a note under it with the name of the artist and the address of where they’re residing? That she’d write something else other than forget me and help me piece together her thought process? How ridiculous of me.

I turn away from the painting, more than ready to explore another level. I reach for the glass door, pulling it open—

An Occuli stands in the entryway, making me jolt backward. Those green flames blaze as it shakes its head. “You aren’t allowed in here.” An otherworldly voice rings out through its mouth.

Ice drenches me as it takes another step closer.

“Only royalty,” it continues as it herds me into a corner.

Magic I can’t see but feel snaps against my skin like a slap. I flinch as more blasts hit my skin. The power in my blood starts to rise, threatening to burst free—

“Stop.” Kal’s demand echoes through the room.

The stings stop, and the Occuli immediately stands up straighter, turning and bowing toward Kal as he enters the room.

“Leave. Now,” he orders.

The Occuli continues to bow as it shuffles out past him. Kal shuts the door behind it, waiting until it’s out of sight before crossing the distance between us. He draws me into an embrace, holding me against his warm body.

“Are you all right? Did they hurt you? You’re trembling,” he says, holding me tighter.

“Its magic,” I say, my voice cracking. “It hurt . I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” I can’t get the words out, the events of the day threatening to break me completely. “The door was unlocked—”

“They’re the ones who shouldn’t be crossing lines,” Kal says. “They have no business testing you like that.” He pushes me away just enough to cup my cheeks and look into my eyes. “It’ll never happen again. I promise,” he continues. “You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

I nod, my head spinning with adrenaline and my power still rushing in my veins. “I know,” I manage to say, relaxing with his assurance.

Goddess, just a little test of magic and I’m trembling. I can blame it on the vulnerability still clinging to me from seeing Erin’s painting, but the Occuli have always rubbed me the wrong way. I’m sure it’s reporting back to whichever king it’s attached to, gloating about the way it scared me.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I’m still playing a game here, and since my life is in the balance, I need to remember that.

“I know,” I say again, running my hands up his strong arms, slipping them behind his neck to pull him closer to me. “I know.” A restless energy hums in my skin—the adrenaline in my blood needing an outlet.

Kal leans down at my urging, and I graze my lips over his, softly at first, drawing back to look up into his eyes for a moment before kissing him with more fervor.

I grip his shirt to hold him closer. This. I need more of this. His kiss chases all the cold, dreadful feelings away, replacing them with the warmth of a dawning sun. The longer I spend with Kal, the more I realize he’s so much like that comforting warmth—powerful yet safe, passionate yet understanding.

He shifts me gently, walking me until my spine hits one of the shelves lined with books, never breaking our kiss.

I cling to him. Cling to the safety and the sensations he’s creating within me. Each masterful stroke of his tongue helps erase the grief and confusion and fear that are threatening to drown me. When he kisses me like this, I’m not thinking about Erin or the secrets I’m hiding. When he kisses me like this, I’m reduced to nothing more than a woman vying for his heart.

“Kal.” His hands roam over my body, hoisting me up until I lock my ankles behind his back. “More,” I beg, slanting my mouth over his again.

I can’t get enough, and each part of my being soars at every point of contact.

“Rylee.” Kal groans my name.

Every time we connect, as if our lives depend on it, is a claiming and a submission…

One we’re both powerless to stop.