Page 4 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Jax

“You summoned me,” I say, dragging out the words as I stride into my father’s ornate office.

The walls of the great and powerful Baydel Lavine are lined with books I’m sure he’s never actually read, and a monstrosity of a marble desk is centered against a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the royal city. The sky is ink black, but gold sparks flicker and burst around the outer gates far below—the magical lights beckoning the Choosing guests into the palace.

“You could’ve come more quickly,” my father says. He stands on a raised step in front of a gilded trifold mirror, admiring himself as his tailor fusses around his ankles.

“I’ve heard that’s an ailment for some.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “Old age getting to you?”

He’s almost as old as Lumathyst itself, though he doesn’t look it. All people in Lumathyst age slowly after reaching maturity, thanks to magic the goddesses flooded the lands with when they first claimed Lumathyst as their own. But when my mother, the goddess Evaluna, chose my father as her mate, she bestowed him with a drop of her power and made him immortal . His face only shows minimal signs of aging—a few wrinkles around his green eyes and snow- white hair that he keeps short.

He glares at me in the mirror, unamused.

I slide my hands into my pockets, leaning against a pillar and propping one boot behind me. “You’re going with gold again, I see.” I motion to his suit. It’s clean, simple, not unlike mine, but the color is unspeakably garish.

“And you went with black,” he says with a condescending sneer. “Shocking.”

Irritation rolls off him in waves. I can taste it on my tongue. The power in my blood rises, begging me to alter his mood. I quash the urge. Anytime I’ve even attempted it, he’s checked me with his power—which is still infinitely more potent than mine.

“Dark and foreboding certainly attracts a mate,” he continues sarcastically.

Maybe this year will be different , a traitorous voice whispers in my ear. I bury it along with any hope I’ve ever had of outpowering my father.

The tailor finishes, and Baydel dismisses him with a flick of his wrist. The man practically runs from the room, skittish as a mouse. My father gives himself an approving look in the mirror before crossing to his desk. He scoops up his mask—made entirely of diamonds—and slides it over his eyes.

“If you called me up here for compliments on your outfit, you’re wasting your time, old man.”

“Watch your mouth.”

I smile—a sardonic, overstretched smile. The same smile that has been the last thing so many have seen before their deaths. The smile that earned me my nickname, the Nightmare.

He has the decency to look unnerved. “I called you up here to discuss tonight’s event—”

“Been to six of these Choosings,” I cut him off. “Nothing new to discuss.”

“You and the other Legends have failed for six years.” He stalks over to me. We’re eye to eye in height, but I can feel his power rising in the room.

I shrug. “I don’t see your mate anywhere,” I say.

He raises a hand but stops before he lands the blow. “If it was any other night than the Choosing, I’d slap that smile right off your face.”

I laugh, slow and frigid. If my mother were truly here, she’d never allow him to harm me. She wouldn’t have allowed him to turn into the bastard he has, either. But she abandoned us long ago, along with my friends’ mothers, the goddesses Tareena, Eirdis, and Neph.

“It’s your year,” Baydel says after a breath. He straightens his gold jacket, the shimmering fabric hanging well past his hips. “Your turn to choose one for the Legends. Try to pick one who will actually make it past a month this time.”

“It’s not our fault they get squeamish once two or more of us take her to bed at the same time,” I argue, ignoring the sting in my gut. Not from any scorned affections I had for the previous potentials, but from the sheer terror that’s overcome them all after barely getting to know us.

“It is your fault,” he says. “You could tamp down your powers when all four of you are together with the potential.”

“Why should we change who we are? The potential mate won’t survive the Athanry if she can’t even handle our collective powers, in or out of the bedroom.”

Baydel steps closer, and I shift off the pillar to meet him.

“You need to take this more seriously,” he says. “Now more than ever.”

Curious, I tilt my head. “What are you keeping from me?” Besides everything, the bastard.

“You know the stakes,” he grumbles. “The goddesses in stasis can only remain and act as powerful wards while you and the Legends offer them drops of your powers yearly. Those are the terms they set when they went to sleep decades ago to protect us. They wanted connection to their only sons to assure them that Lumathyst is still worthy of their protection. Among the other important reasons to find a mate, they created the Choosing for you four to find one and prove the royal traditions will hold.”

Guilt gnaws at my chest like a trapped rat. The last thing any of us want to do is let down our mothers. The Legends, including myself, have been doing our duty to them since we came of age and into our own powers, years ago; before then, our fathers handled the offerings. But Baydel’s sense of urgency raises my hackles. He’s never been fully honest with me. I can taste the calculated lies he weaves daily. But what exactly he’s lying about, I don’t know.

“It’s more important than ever that you find your mate,” he continues. “Especially with the significant threat across the seas. You know how Erithmore hates us. And do you think your people will continue to serve you if they know their rulers can’t appease their goddesses? The people will turn on you the second they aren’t being provided for, and then we’ll have another rebellion on our hands. Erithmore would love the opportunity to ally with rebels. The people can smell weakness—”

“Lumathyst is not weak. Our mothers made sure of it,” I snap.

“If your mothers hadn’t written the rules of the Choosing, I would simply audition girls until I found one who could actually tolerate the lot of you,” he snaps, shaking his head. “Lumathyst may be strong, but you Legends are making a mockery of our royal line.”

The power in my veins rumbles, demanding to be unleashed. I could make him terrified, make him believe his worst nightmares are tapping on his shoulder, sliding their fingers around his throat—

My father smiles knowingly and flicks his hand. In an instant, I’m immobilized. My body is entirely under his control.

“ You are weak,” he whispers. “Just because you and the other Legends take care of the traitorous filth littering our streets doesn’t make you powerful men.”

He releases me, tipping his chin, waiting. He wants a reaction, wants a fight.

So, I don’t give him one.

“Has Erithmore been mobilizing?” I ask as if he didn’t just violate me again. Didn’t just use his power against his own son.

Baydel smirks as if he’s impressed. I know he isn’t.

Lumathyst is the largest kingdom in the Crescent Sea. Vleyica and Cardrayton are our allies to the south, and our biggest threat is Erithmore to the north. We’ve had a tentative peace with Erithmore for decades, but as the second-largest realm, they are always in competition with us.

They hate our monopoly on trade from Vleyica and Cardrayton. If Erithmore’s armies ever outmatched ours, they wouldn’t hesitate to try to conquer us. Luckily, the goddesses’ dormant powers offer protection within our borders, making the idea of conquering us a fool’s dream.

“Nothing concrete yet,” Baydel says. “You know how they envy us. We need to keep it at envy and not ambition. Plus, there is always a concern of demis organizing—”

“You and the other kings either banished the ancestral demis to the Ashlands, stripping them of all wealth and privilege and hope, or work them within an inch of their lives. Most demi lines have been diluted to minimal powers, if any . There hasn’t been a whisper of them scheming against the royals in centuries. You can’t honestly view them as a threat?”

“We intend to keep their loyalty and submission,” he says, “so another uprising doesn’t happen.” He motions toward the door. “Finish getting dressed. I’ll see you up there. Watch for my cues on who to pick. If you listen this time, perhaps you’ll actually choose someone correctly.”

I give him an acidic smile and stride from the room, taking the golden elevator up to Axl’s floor. We always meet in his rooms when we stay in the palace. I use the ride up to steel my nerves, but it does nothing to quell the restless energy inside me. Thanks to my father’s power move, I want to break something. Or better yet, cut into someone. My fingers itch as I trail them over the hilts of the blades strapped beneath my jacket.

“How is your old man?” Axl asks as I enter his room.

I plop down on one of his leather sofas, kicking my feet up on a glass table. “Prickish. Yours?”

“Same,” Axl says, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror across the room.

“Did you comb your beard?” I tease. His long black hair is secured with a leather tie, his full beard trimmed and immaculate. Normally he looks as wild as the sea he loves so much.

“Choosing night,” he says, a wide grin stretching his lips.

I shake my head, but I feel the corner of my mouth tug up slightly, unable to stop the effect his adventurous energy has on me. It’s better than the rage my father invoked.

“Aren’t you even a little excited?” he asks, sinking onto the couch opposite me. He reaches for the decanter in the middle of the table and pours two glasses of amber liquid, sliding one toward me. “It’s your year to pick.”

I take the glass, clinking it against his before throwing back the contents in one gulp. The burn is just what I need, so I pour myself another. “About that…”

“You two about ready?” Kal calls, sauntering into the room, his dark-brown hair perfectly combed, his face clean-shaven, looking every inch the part of the golden boy. If we hadn’t grown up together, I’d probably hate him for his ability to make calm, collected, and confident look effortless. Lucky for him, I love him like he’s blood.

“We’re waiting on you and Pierce,” Axl says, pouring himself another drink. “It doesn’t take much to make me look this damn good.” He stretches his arm over the back of the couch, crossing an ankle over his knee.

Kal laughs, straightening his red suit jacket. “My father held me up,” he says. “Pierce’s, too—”

“I’m here,” Pierce interrupts, joining us. “Did each of your fathers express the urgency of selecting correctly this year? Or just mine?”

Kal nods. Axl groans and drops his head back dramatically. I can only smile bitterly.

“They’ve never been quite this invested in our pursuits,” Pierce continues. His dark-brown eyes go distant in that way they do when he’s analyzing a situation. His nickname is “the Mind” for a reason—he sees angles others don’t and has more knowledge rattling around up there than a hundred Lumathyst historians. “Why do you suppose that is?”

I set down my empty glass, and the crystal clinks against the table. “Baydel mentioned appeasing our mothers’ wishes.” I sigh. “And a threat from Erithmore.”

“My father mentioned the offerings, too,” Axl says.

“Did Baydel refer to a particular group in Erithmore?” Pierce asks.

“No,” I answer.

“How vague,” Pierce says, brows pinched.

Axl grips the back of the couch a bit harder. “What fools would have the courage to threaten the kings?”

“That’s the question,” I say. We fall silent, and I immediately feel restless. “But about tonight. Axl, why don’t you take my pick?”

“Why would I do that?” Axl shrugs. “It’s your turn.”

Kal rounds the sofa, sitting in the armchair next to me. Pierce smoothly leans against the armrest of Axl’s sofa.

“You know me,” I say, as if that’s explanation enough. “I don’t care either way.”

“But if we pick right…” Axl’s voice trails off. “Imagine,” he continues. “A mate strong enough to handle all of us? It’d be—”

“A fairy tale,” I cut him off. Not that I haven’t thought about the benefits of having a mate before—having someone who understood us in a way only a mate could. Someone who could take on all of us and beg for more, someone who wouldn’t cower in fear beneath us…

Again, a fantasy.

There hasn’t been a potential yet who could handle each of us on our own, and not one has ever actually enjoyed our company enough to choose us. None earned our tokens—our sacred items that we’d award the potential at the end of our individual months with her, a symbol of our promise to her. We tried, though. We always try .

A fuck is easy to find, but a mate?

Not that I’ve ever fucked any of the potentials before. I left that to Axl, Pierce, and Kal. Sure, I watched, but not one of the potentials has ever been brave enough to try to seduce the Nightmare. Not when they know what I can do, what I’ve done to anyone who has crossed me.

“You don’t think this year will be any different,” Kal says, not asking. He presses his lips together, his blue eyes going all broken heart on me.

I glare at him. “Maybe I’m not excited to select another potential only for them to reject us before reaching the Athanry.”

Kal’s shoulders drop, and I instantly regret the outburst. He’s chosen twice, and both of them left the instant they could. Our mothers made the contract magically binding but would never force anyone to love us, so they included the option to leave after a month. So many have left us then, taking their compensation and never looking back.

Kal takes it the hardest out of all of us—not that we don’t all feel the sting of rejection—but that’s Kal, the Dreamer. His heart is his weakness, though it’s about the only one he has.

“I haven’t lost hope,” he says, but a muscle in his jaw ticks.

I hit a nerve, but let’s face it—that’s what I do.

“I don’t want your choice,” Axl says, shaking his head. “You should at least see who’s out there.” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and grins. “You never know. This year could be different.” Axl’s excited energy is contagious; it’s one of my favorite things about him. He’s rarely ever dismayed by obstacles and is always down for anything—especially all my bad ideas.

“Come on,” he says, standing and motioning toward a long mahogany table across the room. “I commissioned new masks for the occasion.”

We follow him to the table. It’s clear which mask is meant for each of us; though most of their design is identical, they’re easily distinguishable by the gemstones set under the left eye slits that match the official colors of our cities: Kal’s has rubies, Pierce’s has emeralds, and Axl’s, sapphires. Mine has black diamonds, a nod to my Obsidian city.

I run my fingers over mine, admiring the detail in the metalwork. It’s a full-face mask with a vertical opening from beneath the nose to below the lower lip and two horizontal ones for the eyes. The rest is covered with intricate designs that whirl toward a sharp chin.

We scoop them up, sliding them over our faces in a move that almost feels rehearsed. Something shifts among us, our powers snapping through the room. United and strong, the Legends of Chaos are something to be feared.

And tonight, I suppose, the woman I select will be the least terrified of them.

Axl claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll take your pick if you haven’t found anyone by midnight. Deal?”

I give him a nod as we head out the door and file into the elevator.

“She’s out there,” Axl says hopefully.

“She has to be,” Kal adds.

“And if she isn’t?” Pierce counters, always one to explore both sides.

“Then we go another year without our mate,” I answer plainly. “And risk losing our mothers’ protection of Lumathyst.”