Page 2 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

I barrel through Ivy’s door and slam it closed behind me as if Turner had chased me the entire way here. He hadn’t, but damn him for rattling me so deeply. I rub at my now sore wrist, sucking in deep breaths to calm my nerves.

“What happened?” Ivy asks, eyes wide as she rushes across the room toward me.

“Turner,” I say, and it’s answer enough. My friends know my history with him.

“Asshole,” she says, glancing at the fresh dusting of purple on my wrist in the shape of his fingerprints.

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I just need a moment.”

Ivy nods, gaze on mine as she inhales, breathing with me until I’ve found a way to shake off the anxiety.

“Better?” she asks.

“Better,” I say on a sigh. “It’s a blessing Turner didn’t arrest me when he caught me crossing the border.”

“Hopefully that’s a sign the goddesses are on your side tonight.” Ivy grins at me. “Want to see it?”

“Yes, please,” I say, relief uncoiling the tension in my body. Distraction is exactly what I need right now.

And then focus. Because Ivy’s right: I really do need the goddesses on my side tonight.

“Layce’s not here yet?” I ask.

“No , you’ll have time to bathe before she brings the rest of our ‘disguises . ’” Ivy laughs. “But first…” She leads me across the room and stops next to her small vanity. My mouth falls open as I take in the identical invitations laid there, with delicate gold script printed beneath a beautiful illustration of an intricate mask.

The Kings of Lumathyst

Present

The Choosing Ceremony

Hosted for the Legends of Chaos

Exchanging this invitation for an entry pin upon arrival at the royal palace constitutes a binding contract between yourself and the Legends of Chaos. By agreeing to participate in the Choosing, you are giving enthusiastic consent to intimate acts with one or all four of the Legends of Chaos if chosen as a mate. If you aren’t comfortable with these terms, do not accept a numbered pin at the gate and enjoy the festivities.

“‘Enthusiastic consent,’” Ivy says in a singsong voice.

I run my fingers over the invitation, noting the thickness of the cardstock as I turn it back and forth. The gold-and-black ink glimmers under the lights. It feels expensive, like the kings infused it with stardust. With their power and wealth? They probably did.

“Are you going to enthusiastically consent ?” Ivy asks as she waters the dozen or so plants that fill her small space.

I set the invitation on her vanity and smile at her.

“Absolutely,” I say with enough sarcasm to make her laugh. “Who wouldn’t leap at the chance to sleep with four men at once?” I stick to teasing despite—or perhaps because of—the truth rattling inside me. I have thought about the possibility of having to uphold the contract, allowed the fantasy to play out in my mind. I’m not opposed to the idea. It’s likely the forbiddenness of it all that intrigues me; it’s only innocent daydreaming.

“These aren’t just any men,” Ivy says. “They’re the Legends of Chaos. The part-god royal princes of Lumathyst. Letting them have their way with you?” She shudders as she moves on to the next plant.

“Oh, come on,” I tease. “Wouldn’t you be curious?” I bite my lip, my mind wandering down a delightful path that has nothing to do with what’s at stake tonight—my life, my sister’s. Thinking about this is easier than all of that.

I’ve only seen paintings of the Legends and the kings, splashed on posters plastered around the Ashlands to ensure we remember who we bow to. The royal artist painted them as formidable men with mysterious smiles and vibrant eyes. Powerful beings capable of weakening knees and stealing breaths.

Four at once…a warm shiver races across my skin.

“There is a fine line between curiosity and self-destruction,” Ivy says, pulling me back to the moment. “You’ve heard the rumors,” she continues. “Just last week, I heard a story about the Dreamer flying a man up to the tallest building in the Ruby Aire because he stole from one of his beloved shops. The enforcers said he dropped him and caught him over and over again before the other Legends joined in.” Ivy shudders. “The Mind manipulated the man’s reality, making him see nothing but his worst fears, and the Nightmare twisted his emotions to match.”

I swallow hard. “I heard that one, too. They said the Player almost drowned him in a sphere of water he controlled.”

“See?” Ivy says, holding her watering can to her chest. “Curiosity and self-destruction,” she reiterates. “Not to mention, the stories about the Nightmare’s Playroom are renowned. They say he delights in chaining women up for days, playing with them only when he feels like it.”

An image takes shape in my mind: me in chains with no purpose other than to be used for pleasure. Social classes don’t matter when you’re stripped down that bare. A drop of heat lands in my belly at the thought, but I quickly force it away.

Maybe someday, I’ll have time to look for the kind of lover who can make me feel safe and excited, understood and destroyed all at once. Someone I can be myself around and trust with all my heart’s desires.

A fool’s dream, but it’s one I can’t deny. Add it to the list of dreams that aren’t meant to be mine.

Ivy comes to stand next to me and glances down at the invitations on the vanity, a glimmer of pride shining in her eyes.

I motion toward my identical invitation sitting next to her real one. “That is some of your best work, Ivy.”

She beams at me but shrugs as she reaches out to touch a Strelitzia plant that’s drooping in its pot. Her red nails gleam as she twirls her fingers, and the plant perks up like it’s taking a much-needed deep breath. The neon orange petals brighten and bloom with restored life.

She lowers her hand. “I would say that is some of my best work. But you know I adore compliments, so please, do go on.”

I laugh, admiring it. Not the forgery that’s her secondary passion but her actual goddess-given power.

Power that neither she nor I are supposed to have. Power that could get us arrested if anyone outside our little trusted circle knew about it. But I guess you can say that’s what brought us together in the first place.

I met Ivy when I was young. I’d crossed over the Ashland border, sneaking into Leaf and Claw, desperate to breathe air that didn’t leave the taste of dust on my tongue. My older sister, Erin, had warned me not to go in broad daylight, but I’d known if I spent another minute carting ore from the Ashlands’ mines, I would explode. In that moment, I didn’t even care if the kings’ enforcers caught me and threw me in the royal prisons. I needed something new and vibrant and fresh.

And that’s exactly what I got. I ran into a secluded little glen and saw a girl my age surrounded by wildflowers. I stopped at the tree line, thinking I’d been caught, but she didn’t notice me at first. As I watched, I realized the wildflowers were growing before my eyes—the girl was making them bloom and spread with magic. I still remember how wide her eyes had gone when she heard my gasp of surprise, how quickly she’d leaped atop me, ready to pummel me if I threatened to expose her secret. Little did she know, I was hiding the same one: we were both demis.

The demis—descendants of those blessed by the goddesses—had fallen out of favor with the kings centuries ago, back when they’d each ruled over their own territories, like the Legends do now. The brief era of peace ended quickly when the vicious infighting among demis mounted. Soon, demis were known only for bloodshed and greed, said to be corrupted by their goddess-granted powers. The kings stepped in before any of the factions could overthrow them and the goddesses and take full control of Lumathyst.

Against the combined power of the goddesses and their kings, the demis didn’t stand a chance. Most of the rebels were killed, but others were given the option to live. Their ancestral surnames were placed on the Never List, ensuring no one from that lineage could ever rise to high status again, despite the fact that the power in their lines dwindled over time and only randomly appeared in one generation or the next. Like mine. Like Ivy’s and Layce’s. Power our non-magical parents managed to keep secret because our marks didn’t show on our skin until we were ten.

Over the years, the Never List evolved to include anyone charged with a treasonous crime or really anyone the kings deemed a threat. And when the entire kingdom strives for the noble status the kings dangle in front of their people—should they only work hard enough—no one ever wants to be on that damned list.

Being on the list means you’ll never achieve a higher social status than the one placed on you at birth.

Being on that list means, if called upon, you’re required to serve in royal assignments overseas, where you’re not protected by the goddesses’ wards.

Being on that list is almost always a death sentence.

There are demis who live openly in Lumathyst, but they’re forced to work for scraps and are regarded by nobility with intense suspicion. They often find themselves arrested for things nobility gets away with on a daily basis, like traveling across city borders and trying to purchase goods or marrying whoever they wish—luxuries Ashlanders aren’t afforded, either.

Which is why those like me and my friends keep our powers a secret.

The second I’d sent a blistering wind at Ivy, tossing her little body off me and across her patch of wildflowers, we became best friends. And sneaking across invisible lines that separated the haves from the have-nots became one of my favorite and most dangerous pastimes. It’s a risk to cross borders to see my friends, but I’ve done it so many times now, I barely register the danger. Likely why Turner spotted me tonight—I’ve gotten too casual about breaking laws.

I trail my finger over the invitation once more.

“Enthusiastic consent.” I repeat the words, then laugh at the binding contract. Every noblewoman in Lumathyst who received a legitimate invitation will have trained for this moment the entire year; some, their entire lives. Lying in their rich feather beds, dreaming about the chance to be the Legends of Chaos’s mate. Anyone selected as a potential earns a higher social class after the event, whether they decide to choose the Legends or not.

“You’re serious? Despite all the stories we’ve heard about the Legends,” Ivy says, turning me to face her. “I’d wager you’d actually enjoy being with all four of them. I’d bet my entire flat that you’d leave them all panting for more.” She laughs. “You’re always seeking that next rush. I swear on the goddesses above, it’s going to bite you in your pretty little ass one day.”

“At least if I were chosen as their mate, I’d be able to make a difference for the Ashlanders,” I say.

“No potential has ever made it longer than a month,” Ivy counters. “The past six left the second they could. Took their elevated-social-status prize and ran in the opposite direction. Vying to be the future queen of Lumathyst is no small feat.”

“And yet wouldn’t it be worth it if it meant one of us could bring about change?”

Ivy looks at me more seriously. “What of the Athanry? Does that not frighten you? The process of becoming immortal? The stories say it nearly killed the kings when the goddesses chose them centuries ago. That’s likely what sent half the potentials running the past six Choosings, alongside the Legends’ chaotic nature.”

She’s not wrong, but I laugh at the concern in her eyes. “Relax, Ivy. I would never put myself up as a potential mate,” I assure her softly. “Contrary to my daily complaints, I like my life. Dying in the name of being the queen of Lumathyst is the last thing on my mind.

“And besides, Ashlanders are forbidden from the Choosing. If they somehow picked me? I’d be dead the second they realized where I’m from.” The truth of that statement settles like a stone in my stomach. “You know the reason I’m sneaking into this event, and it’s most certainly not for the princes…or the drinks,” I add with a laugh.

“Hey,” Ivy chides. “The drinks are worth the risk.” She grins at me, but there is a sincerity in her eyes that doesn’t match her playful tone. “Do you need to look at the palace map again?”

I swallow around the nerves tangling in my throat. “No,” I say, tapping my temple. “I have it all up here.”

“You paid half a year’s wages for it,” she says. “You better have it memorized.”

“I just hope it’s accurate.”

“I told you,” she says. “My friend works in the palace. You can trust them.”

I purse my lips. I rarely trust anyone anymore, but Ivy has more access to the royal cities than I do. She’s from the city of Leaf and Claw, which makes her an Ari, a middle class that has privileges Ashlanders don’t. She can own her accommodations, rather than renting, and can shop in the royal cities. Aris can’t request an audience with the Legends, like nobility can, but Aris don’t live in squalor and can move freely about Lumathyst without fear of being imprisoned.

And as much as the kings claim anyone (as long as their name isn’t on the Never List) can elevate their social class by working hard enough and earning a royal blessing, it’s a rarity to see an Ashlander rise in rank. Marriages between classes have to be approved by the kings, and since Ashlanders are mostly descendants of demis or recently freed criminals, they rarely receive a blessing. Not that I would ever be allowed to try, since my family name has been on the Never List since my ancestors took up arms against the kings centuries ago.

Still, Ivy’s Ari status gives her access to connections I never would’ve secured on my own, and getting this map for me is one of those perks.

I’ll never be able to repay her for tonight.

“You really think you’ll find answers?”

The hollow space in my chest twinges as Erin’s face fills my mind. “It’s been a year, Ivy.” A year since my sister also snuck into the Choosing and never came back. “We know she wasn’t chosen as a potential, and she didn’t come home. That means someone had to have found out she was an Ashlander and shipped her off on a mission overseas or threw her in the prisons. I have to know what happened. I have to find her.”

The Choosing is my only shot at getting into the palace and searching for answers. I’ve spent the entire year planning for this moment, all the while desperately wishing she’d walk back through our door, telling me she simply lost track of time. She’s done that before. Erin loves to go wherever her instincts take her, and she’s run off on monthlong adventures before.

But never this long. And never without letting me know she was leaving first.

Ivy wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a warm embrace. Her crisp scent of orchids and pine envelops me, filling those empty spaces inside me with memories. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry I ever forged her an invitation—”

“Don’t do that,” I say as we break apart. “Don’t blame yourself. It could’ve been any of us.” Ivy has been to the Choosing the past six years and has never once come close to being chosen as a potential mate. Her invitation is always legitimate, but she’s never had any real interest in becoming the Legends’ mate—thanks to the stories we’ve heard about them—so she’s kept to the shadows, enjoying the luxuries of the event without drawing attention to herself.

I’d thought Erin would do the same. The goddesses blessed her with the unique ability to get out of tight places, assess danger in a blink, and thieve anything she wants even if her target is staring her straight in the face.

So, what happened that night? What happened that meant she couldn’t escape, couldn’t charm or seduce her way out? She may enjoy disappearing on adventures, but she wouldn’t have run away without telling me. Wouldn’t have left me to rot in the Ashlands. Not when we’re the only family we have left.

Once again, I curse myself for not going with her. Erin always asked me to come, but the idea of mingling with the royals of Lumathyst, who would rather watch Ashlanders starve to death than offer a helping hand, always turned my stomach. An arrogant pride that quite possibly lost me my sister.

And I’ve hated myself for it ever since.