Page 5 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

“Invitation,” the enforcer at the gates of the palace says in a gruff tone as we stop before him.

I hand mine over first, proud when my fingers don’t tremble. I deserve to be here. I deserve answers.

“Take a pin if you agree to the contract.” The enforcer holds out a silver bucket filled to the brim with glittering jeweled pins. I hesitate, but only for a second, before plucking one from the pile and securing it on my dress above my left breast. Ivy and Layce do the same.

My friends are right. The money I can get from selling this after the event outweighs the risks of being selected as a potential mate. I won’t go near the princes—just like Ivy and Layce said—so I won’t get chosen. Knowing I can feed a starving group of Ashlanders with the money earned from this pin makes it worth it.

I glance down at the jewel-encrusted gold pin as we follow a herd of other event guests up the palace steps and inside. The large, gilded base holds four tiny precious gemstones from the Legends’ cities: a ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, and a black diamond. The four gems surround a smaller cluster of clear diamonds in the center of the pin, making up a number that is now linked to my invitation.

Thirteen.

I do my best to think it’s a coincidence that I drew an unlucky number and focus on the relief barreling through me as we’re directed toward a hallway filled with glistening golden elevators. I made it through without a hitch. Not that I ever doubted Ivy’s forged invitation.

“I hate this part,” Layce whispers as we slide into the elevator.

“Deep breath,” Ivy says, her shoulder brushing Layce’s as we’re crowded into a corner.

Four other people pile in beside us: two giggling women our age, dressed in bright-yellow dresses with sparkling masks that look like they’re made from real honeybees, and an older couple that seems to be their parents. I glare at them for their lack of empathy for the creatures, knowing full well they could’ve used fabric for the design, like my mask. But that’s Lumathyst nobility for you—entitled, never thinking twice about a resource before exploiting it.

I tear my eyes from them. I wonder what it would be like to be here solely for the chance to be selected as a potential mate, and not to illegally search for answers about my missing sister.

A groove appears between Layce’s brows as the elevator jolts upward, moving at top speed as it carries us toward the roof of the palace. Ivy told me about it beforehand, but there’s nothing quite like experiencing it for myself. I can’t stop my grin at the rush, the knowledge that this tiny gold contraption now holds our lives. One break and we’ll all plummet to our deaths.

I let out a small, excited laugh. Maybe I’m as mad as Turner always says I am. As everyone says.

Maybe I don’t care. It’s easy to laugh at death when you’ve got nothing to lose.

The twinkling lights above us flicker, and Ivy flashes me a concerned look. Layce bites her lip, her fingers gripping the rail behind her so hard, her knuckles turn white.

The buzzing yellow bees beside us look our way, their mouths scrunched up as if they can smell the lower cities on us—or maybe they’re so wealthy, they look at everyone like that.

The flickering intensifies, and I step in front of Layce, smoothing my cheek over hers, drawing an arm up to lean against the elevator wall. To the bees, it looks like we’re embracing. Just a friendly, supportive touch as Ivy blocks her from the other side. Girls telling secrets before the big event. They can’t see the air I’m spinning from my fingers, the cool breeze I’m guiding over Layce’s face and into her lungs. She’s always loathed tight spaces.

“Thank you.” Layce breathes the words as the elevator stops.

The bee family buzzes out the second the doors sweep open, but Ivy and I remain, not budging until we know Layce is in control.

“I’m good,” she says, the white streaks of barely contained power in her eyes dimming as her panic ebbs. She squeezes my hand and hustles out the doors, sucking in a deep breath the second she’s clear of them.

Ivy and I follow her, the heels of our shoes clinking on the floor—

“Holy shit,” I gasp, and I turn a few heads with the remark. I lower my voice, barely holding back a laugh as Ivy tugs me to the right.

Power . This is what real power looks like, to make a place like this exist .

We’re at least three hundred floors up, and the event space is a giant balcony that juts from the side of the palace. The inky sky stretches above our heads in a blanket of stars, and the floor is made entirely of glass, the surface so smooth and polished it looks like we’re walking on starlight. A thrill sends shivers over my skin.

The most eligible and wealthy of Lumathyst are milling about the large space, draped in red and sapphire and emerald and gold, most doing their best not to look down. Fear and discomfort are evident in the tight lines of their lips or the nervous flutter of their fingers as they talk and gossip and sip the sparkling wine being served by the royal staff.

“Clever,” I say, following Ivy and Layce as they head right for the food.

“What is?” Ivy asks, delicately plucking a ripe strawberry covered in fluffy cream from one of the many serving platters scattered atop rows and rows of tables lining the balcony. I follow suit, grabbing a chocolate-covered strawberry and popping it into my mouth. I moan, unable to contain it. We never have strawberries in the Ashlands.

When I come down from my high, I motion to the crystal-clear floor. “Intimidation,” I say. “Hosting the event in a space most find terrifying.”

Ivy and Layce are as unbothered as I am by the height and the appearance that nothing separates us from falling to our deaths. We’ve been in far tighter spots before and survived—like when Erin and I concocted a plan to steal food from a duke who was hosting a party in Oak and Iron. Ivy and Layce had of course tagged along. We’d almost made it out with our spoils when the host spotted me and waved down a kings’ enforcer who’d been lingering outside. Soon we were being chased through the streets by six enforcers and only managed to lose them by climbing one of the nearby taller buildings and hiding on a thin balcony that had seen much better days. We laughed about it after, but it had been a close call. Still, we’d taken all that stolen food to a home of starving Ashlanders, so it’d been worth it.

In comparison, walking on glass is a breeze.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep, robust voice announces over the twinkling music. “Please welcome the Legends of Chaos!”

The crowd around us shifts, energy sparking with excitement and awe as four men emerge from a private elevator. They’re each wearing a mask that’s identical to over two dozen others worn by their entourage, but even from here I can tell they’re built like royalty—soldiers’ bodies, each one cut from the same cloth. Good. Now I at least know their builds, so I can avoid them the entire night.

“And your hosts for the evening,” the announcer continues over the sounds of the crowd. “The kings of Lumathyst.”

Acid claws up my throat as I follow every single person around us—even the Legends—and bow as the four immortal kings appear from the same private elevator. One is dressed in glittering gold, a smirk the only thing truly visible beneath his diamond mask. Another wears emerald green, another ruby red, and the last, glimmering sapphire. They do not release us from our bows, and while hunched over, the crowd in the center of the balcony parts as the kings make their way to the opposite side, climbing a large dais and taking the four thrones positioned there.

The one in gold, King Baydel Lavine, stands after they’ve been served drinks and finally motions for us all to rise. Bastards.

“It is my honor,” King Baydel says to the silent crowd, “to welcome you all to the Legends’ sixth Choosing.” The diamonds in his mask sparkle distractingly beneath the lights. I have to squint as he scans the crowd. “One of you will be chosen as their potential…” A collective, hopeful energy flows through the crowd, and it’s an effort not to roll my eyes. “And if the goddesses will it, you will be a fated mate by the winter solstice.” He raises his glass and motions to the four Legends waiting patiently at the foot of the dais. “So, drink, dance, eat. Converse. And may the goddesses be with you.”

“Oh, please ,” I whisper as the crowd claps and raises their glasses to him. The music swirls around us once more, the chatter cacophonous even in the exposed outdoors. A plethora of dresses swarms the Legends, the women practically stepping over one another to get to them first, all not-so-subtly displaying their numbered pin as clearly as they can. “Can’t they see the way King Baydel is looking at all of us?” I say to Ivy. “More like chattel for slaughter. And look…” I nod toward the women hovering around the Legends. “They’re flocking like good little sheep.”

Ivy starts to respond, but a deep, languid laugh resonates behind me. The sound sends warm shivers over my skin. I glance over my shoulder, trying to be casual about it, but fail miserably when I meet a pair of indigo eyes, barely visible behind his full-face mask. I feel his laugh in my bones, can still see it in the way his eyes are smiling. I’d bet my entire wealth—which isn’t much—that he’s grinning beneath that mask.

Whirling back around, I try to catch the breath I somehow lost. Did he hear me? I thought only Ivy could hear, but if he did and he laughed at it? That level of disrespect is grounds for both of us to be thrown in the palace dungeons.

Dangerous, reckless. I’m not here to draw attention to myself. I need to be more careful.

I press against Ivy’s shoulder insistently, and we work our way deeper into the crowd, bringing Layce with us. I want to kick myself for looking back, but I can’t help it.

Purple eyes find mine among the sea of masks and bodies, and my stomach flips . The man holds my gaze for a few seconds before slowly turning away. I get a glimpse of short blue-black hair, like raven’s feathers, and a lithe body draped in midnight black, before he’s swallowed by the crowd.

“See something you like?” Layce teases.

“Definitely,” I admit. “Not that I’m looking.”

“You should always be looking,” Ivy encourages as Layce brings us to a stop in the center of the crowd. We have a perfect line of sight to the space in front of the dais.

“Why here?”

“You don’t want to miss the show,” Layce answers. “Being your first time and all.” She smiles and winks at my confusion.

The magical orbs of light hovering over us dim on cue, and the music softens to a barely audible hum. The kings shift on their thrones, delight flickering over their features as they eye the empty space before them expectantly.

“The Tale of the Four Goddesses,” the announcer says. Ivy and Layce mouth along to the words. Spotlights erupt near the dais. “As portrayed by the Ruby Aire Players!”

“In the beginning,” Ivy whispers in a mocking lilt under the announcer as he shifts to a narrative tone.

“There were four men who stood above the rest,” the announcer continues, the spotlight trailing over the kings. “And there were goddesses who walked among us.” The lights shift to the space before the dais. “Four goddesses who fell in love.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan to Ivy. “We all know this story—”

“Shh,” Layce says, nudging me. “Look at the costumes, the details .” She gazes longingly as each actress performs onstage.

“Evaluna,” the announcer says as an absolutely stunning woman draped in royal blue silk and stardust, her hair as black as night and eyes rimmed in streaks of silver, dances in smooth movements along the stage, “goddess of the moon and stars, chose King Baydel Lavine as her mate, imbuing him with immortality and powers the likes of which Lumathyst had never seen.

“Tareena,” he continues, “goddess of earth and water, chose King Lucas Dawson…” A gorgeous actress sheathed in hunter green and ocean blue glides with fluid movements onto the stage. “Eirdis,” he says, drawing out the name like er-deeze , “the goddess of wisdom and time, chose King Brooks Bertrand…” This actress wears purple, her hair an array of beautiful curls, the symbol of a spider laid into the delicate folds of her dress. “And finally,” the announcer calls, and my breath catches. “Neph, the goddess of sky and sun, chose King Jullian Erhart.” This actress is covered in gold, her hair done in a wide fan around her face, her eyes resembling the sun itself.

Neph is the goddess whose gift runs through my veins. The cloud birthmark practically burns on the back of my neck as the actresses fall on their knees before the kings the goddesses once chose.

I wonder, not for the first time, what the real goddesses looked like, wonder if our goddesses would be pleased by the portrayal or offended by it. Shouldn’t the kings be bowing to them? Not the other way around?

“Together, the Kings and the Goddesses of Lumathyst created our beloved kingdom,” the announcer goes on. “Together, they loved and lived in a passion that can never compare, and the goddesses walked among the people of Lumathyst, blessing those they deemed worthy.

“But the imbalance of power became a catalyst for betrayal by their people, so the goddesses wanted to ensure their sons, their only heirs, would never suffer the same fate. They used their magic to call forth for their sons only one mate who would connect them all, to act as their tether to the people of Lumathyst and ground them if their hunger for power ever grew too large.

“And all too soon, Lumathyst suffered attacks from those overseas who wished to conquer our prosperous land. The goddesses were heartbroken. They did not want their young sons to grow up during a bloody war. And so they sacrificed their current lives, putting themselves to sleep, using their inherent powers to act as protective wards against those enemies who would threaten their mates’ and their sons’ future.”

The goddesses on the stage fold in on themselves, sadness coloring their features. But I barely see them. Instead, I see the kings poised on their thrones, the four Legends still near the dais before them, surrounded by wealth. I see no hint of sadness in the kings’ eyes, no ounce of regret or longing. They don’t look like mates being reminded of those they lost.

They look like men with the power of the goddesses, intent on doing anything, killing anyone to keep it.

Why would the goddesses go to sleep when they could’ve likely created wards on their own? That part of the story always rubbed me the wrong way.

“And so it has been, with the kings working tirelessly to ensure Lumathyst prospers…” The story progresses, but I shake my head.

“The only reason they have any wealth is because those beneath them dig it out for them at the expense of their backs,” I mutter under my breath.

Layce gasps at my side, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard me.

But a familiar laugh sounds again, this time right behind me, right at my ear, and a shudder runs down my body.

“That mouth,” the deep, masculine voice says.

I turn around, looking up into those indigo eyes.

“I bet it gets you into all kinds of trouble,” he whispers, and this time I can’t tell if he’s smiling or intrigued or offended. The metal mask covers too much of his face.

“Maybe it does,” I say as the play continues behind me. “Who’s asking?” I arch a brow and feel my black butterfly mask rise with the movement.

His eyes roam over my face, down my neck, over my body, lingering on my pin for a few seconds. “No one important,” he says, then nods past me, to the play. “You don’t seem to agree with the pageantry. Why?”

“The pageantry is fine,” I say, turning back to the show. I feel him move closer behind me, and something inside me stretches toward him like a cat begging for attention. I don’t have time for this, whatever this is, but I can’t deny that I like it. It’s been a while since I felt that spark with someone. That itch to discover and touch and play. And I haven’t even seen this one’s face. “Beautiful, even,” I say, watching as the goddesses on the stage appear to turn to stone. “It’s the writing that bothers me.”

Ivy flashes me a warning look.

A low, amused murmur rumbles in his chest, and I swear I feel it between my thighs. Who is he?

“Are you a writer?” he asks.

“No,” I admit.

“Then what bothers you about it?”

I swallow hard. Telling the truth is grounds for imprisonment, and I’ve already run my mouth past its allowance tonight.

“Is it the romance?” he whispers in my ear when I don’t answer. I can feel the heat of him, can smell his smoke-and-leather scent as it curls around my body. “The history? Or is it the unbelievable parts that are hard to swallow?”

Surprise flits through me, and I glance back at him. He’s so close, my lips almost brush his mask, but then again, we’re all crowded together. “Which unbelievable parts?” I whisper. There are so many.

The performance ends, and Ivy and Layce clap along with the rest of the crowd.

He could be talking about the goddesses blessing the people of Lumathyst and making them demis for no reason, or the fact that they fell in love and chose non-gods as their mates—

“The part where the goddesses leave their beloved sons for the sake of a threat they could’ve easily wiped out with half a thought,” he says under the sound of the crowd’s approval.

Shock tightens my skin. He could be baiting me, or he could merely share my thoughts on our kingdom’s founding mythology. Either way, I can’t take the risk. As much as my body is begging me to keep talking to him, keep standing near him, keep inhaling that intoxicating scent and getting lost in those indigo eyes, I didn’t come here for that.

It’s not to eat and drink and dance. To gossip and laugh and flirt. I’m here to find my sister, or at least discover where she went.

So, I turn around and give him my best, most nothing smile. “No honorable citizen of Lumathyst would say or agree with such heresy,” I say.

His eyes flicker down to my lips. “Who says I’m an honorable citizen?”

The words send lightning through my veins. “Well, I most certainly am,” I manage to say, my voice cracking slightly. “And I must do my duty.” I bow slightly to him. “And submit myself to the Legends as a potential choice.”

Those eyes grin like a cat catching a canary. “With all the other sheep?”

I’m already backing away, but I don’t break his gaze. “Baa,” I say, then wink at him before whirling around and losing myself in the crowd.