Page 9 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

It’s only a few moments before the elevator doors slide open again, and I have to swallow my surprise at the appearance of the kings. I stumble back a step, unsteady on my feet at being approached by them.

“Did we scare you, little bug?” Baydel Lavine asks, slipping off his mask.

Heat washes over me at the degrading nickname.

He must see something in my expression, because he points at my mask. “Bugs,” he says in explanation. “Interesting choice.” He glances over his shoulder at the other three kings, who are sampling the array of food and drink left on the elongated table across the room.

“They’re butterflies,” I say before I can stop myself.

Baydel snaps his head back around, eyes hard as stones.

Shit. Activate royalty filter.

“Bugs,” Baydel says, a harsh smile cutting across his lips.

I dip my chin, even though it hurts every inch of my pride to do so.

How did I get myself in this situation? I’m the absolute last person who should be around royalty, let alone speaking with them. Their attention is something I’ve never wanted. In fact, I’ve spent my entire life trying to stay out of their way. But here I am, in a palace room big enough to fit the entire Ashland market inside it, and all four kings are shedding their masks and studying me like I’m a creature to be dissected.

“I’m sure you’re curious why we’re here and not the Legends,” Baydel continues, switching his tone from sandpaper to honey. He waves an arm at his friends, all of whom are handsome. There’s no denying it, and there is a signature energy buzzing off them, all unique. Two of them feel like oil, slimy with a side of sting, but the other two…Jullian Erhart, Kal’s father, and Brooks Bertrand, Pierce’s father, don’t feel the same. Not as grimy but just as mysterious. I can’t tell if the kindness in their eyes is just a physical trait that helps them get defenses down or if it’s genuine. But I swear I can see regret flicker in their eyes as they look from me to Baydel.

“I suppose I’m curious about everything that will happen next,” I finally answer.

He laughs, and the sound is nothing like his son’s. This laugh is all pompous arrogance, where Jax’s laugh… goddess , that made my knees shake.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Cedar and Silk,” I say, hoping that my time spent at Layce’s will be enough to help me if he has any questions about the city.

Baydel’s lips purse at the city’s name. He shifts closer, walking toward me with such intent that I instinctively retreat until my back hits the golden pillar behind me.

“You’re an Ari from one of the lower cities?” He whispers the question, almost like he can’t bear to say the words.

I nod, dipping my head in what I hope looks like a combination of submission and shame. Goddess, if he knew what I really was…

I focus on keeping my breathing even. If any one of these kings could sense the demi in me, they would’ve already imprisoned me. For now, it seems, I’m safe from that at least.

“Brooks,” Baydel says, calling to Pierce’s father. Baydel doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Have we ever had a potential from the lower cities?”

“Once,” Brooks answers immediately. “She didn’t make it past her time in Kal’s city.”

Delight radiates over Baydel’s features. “That’s right,” he says, eyeing me again. “Cedar and Silk might serve the royal city, but it doesn’t have our…quality of character. Are you a seamstress?”

I shake my head. I could lie—I’ve seen Layce do magical things with all sorts of materials—but I don’t know enough. If they were to test me, ask me to make them a garment or curtains or sheets for their beds, I wouldn’t be able to.

“Dyer,” I answer. I’ve visited Layce where she works for one of the most sought-after seamstresses across the cities. I often hid in the back of the building when Layce had to deal with patrons, and I’d watched the dyeing process enough. There was something almost soothing about watching the dyers soak fabrics in large wooden barrels of colorful liquid.

Baydel’s nose scrunches, as if he’s trying to smell the remnants of the dyes on my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the hot swell of my anger in check.

“Only the most successful Aris receive invitations,” Baydel says as he looks me over. “So, you were a lottery winner?” he asks, eyes raking over my mask, down my torso, and back up again. I resist the urge to tense, to turn away from the examination.

“Yes,” I say, choosing the path of least resistance. If they keep records of all the lottery winners and check, I’ll be dead for lying to him before I can even wrap my mind around trying to outsmart their game.

“What is your name?” Baydel asks.

“Rylee Gray,” I answer. It’s easier this time, since I’ve already given it to the Legends.

From the corner of my eye, I see Jullian step away from the table and casually walk toward us, stopping to lean against an adjacent pillar. His suit isn’t a bright ruby red like Kal’s was; instead, it’s a softer, subtler red and is cut perfectly for his body. He’s fit and looks no older than fifty, but I know he’s much, much older. They all are.

Thanks to my own power, I can feel theirs swirling around the room. Baydel’s is the most overwhelming because he’s so damn close to me. Because of our forced education throughout the lower cities, I know exactly what each of their powers are, and Baydel’s is by far the most terrifying, especially as he keeps dragging it over me, testing me: immobilization and control.

With a simple push of his mind, he can own my body. Make me do whatever he wants—hold still, dance, jump off the balcony.

I’ve seen no less than a dozen public executions over the years. Ashlanders and residents of other lower cities are forced to travel to the royal square whenever there’s a crime the kings think merits public punishment. They want us to watch and learn, to fully understand what happens to those who aren’t loyal to them, all under the guise of never wanting conflict between our people again.

The last execution I saw had been a young demi Ashlander who’d never warranted attention before. Then he fell in love with the daughter of a duke, and the couple begged the kings for their blessing to be married. They’d been denied, of course, and they’d gotten married in secret—a direct defiance of their kings’ orders.

Treason, they’d called it.

Baydel had made the young man bend his own body in grotesque ways while his new wife watched. Ways a body should never bend. A slow, painful, brutal death.

They let the wife go, thanks to her noble status, but I don’t know if her fate was easier than her beloved’s. Living with those images…

All because they fell in love. Two people from the same kingdom but opposites in every other way.

It takes all of my will to bury my power as Baydel continues to reach out with his own, takes everything in me not to fight back. I don’t know why they can’t sense it; maybe I’m burying too well from years of practice. Or perhaps they don’t suspect, so they aren’t looking for it. Either way, it’s a blessing I don’t take for granted.

“You are quite exquisite for a mere Ari,” Baydel says, shifting to lean one arm on the pillar right next to my face. The motion draws him so close, his chest threatens to brush mine. “I wonder which noble line of blood runs in your veins.” He trails a finger down my cheek.

A wave of ice flashes over my skin to settle in my stomach. Goddess, I know what he’s doing, why they’re all here. Baydel is trying to seduce me. No, seduce would imply romancing and consent and seeking out how to pleasure the other most. This isn’t that.

This feels like what Turner did after the first time—take and take and take, regardless of what I wanted, regardless of whether or not I said no .

Can I say no to a king? To four of them?

He moves his fingers from my cheek to my hair, sliding them through the strands. Every touch turns my stomach, but I keep my face indifferent as I scramble to think through my options. If I fight it, he can just use his power and force me; if I submit, I’ll survive, but I can’t bear the thought.

I close my eyes, willing my mind to calm…

And for reasons I can’t even begin to explain, when I close my eyes, I see Jax. I hear his laugh and feel his hands on my body as we danced. I see Kal and the way he threatened the enforcer for touching me. Fire ignites in my core, burning the panic away.

I peel my eyes open, crashing back to reality with a newfound sense of confidence that is likely rash, but I can’t find the ability to care.

“You see, little bug,” Baydel says, his tone low as he continues to slide that hand out of my hair and down my bare shoulder, “we’re here before the Legends because it’s our right to experience you first, to test you and make sure you’re fit for our sons.”

That definitely wasn’t in the contract.

A wave of nausea bubbles up my throat. I knew what he was doing, but hearing him speak about me like I’m nothing more than a piece of property is impossible to swallow. How many people have the kings done this to? Not just the past potentials, but anyone else who has fallen prey to their entitled demands?

Just as that thought forms, another one follows. What if the others…wanted this? Sleeping with the four kings…maybe some said yes. Maybe some wanted them back, wanted to see what it would be like to be part of this much power. That’s fair and fine for them, if that was the case. But it’s not what I want.

I entertained the fantasy of being with the Legends. I accepted the pin, the Choosing contract, despite thinking I’d never be selected. I felt desire for Jax before he picked me.

This? The way Baydel is pressing, pushing… I don’t give a fuck that they rule the world I live in; they will not rule my body.

Baydel’s hand travels lower, down my ribs and shifting across my stomach—

I gently grab his wrist, pausing him. Warning ripples through his eyes as they meet mine.

“You will not be experiencing me, your majesty,” I say as smoothly as I can.

Baydel tilts his head, and his grin transforms into something closer to a snarl. “You are my subject,” he bites out. “I can experience you in whichever way I wish.”

“I belong to Jax, your son. He chose me. Just as I belong to Kal,” I say, flashing my eyes to Jullian, who has pushed off the pillar and stepped closer to us. I can’t read his eyes, but they’re nowhere near as evil as Baydel’s. “I belong to the Legends of Chaos, and they will be the only ones laying claim to me.”

Baydel’s mouth parts, genuine shock washing over his features. I’m certain he’s not used to being spoken to like this, just as I’m almost certain he’s killed anyone who has ever dared to try.

He presses right up against me, breaking my hold on his wrist, rubbing his cheek over mine. “Are you sure, little bug?” I cringe, trying to move, trying to push him off…

But I can’t.

I’m frozen. Not in fear or panic—though both are prevalent in my body—but by him . His power.

“You might enjoy it after we’ve gotten started,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my flesh. I can barely breathe as my throat closes.

I’ve been here before, but never so powerless. At least with Turner, I had enough control to pick my battles, to fight when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m your king,” he continues, his hands roaming over my body. My stomach tries to heave, but even it stays locked down, under his power. “An immortal. You know what I’ve learned in that time, what I can do to you? What I can make you do to me?”

A traitorous tear slips down my cheek. I feel his power peel back just enough for me to speak. He wants to hear me beg or scream or consent.

I won’t be doing any of those things.

My lips tremble, and the effort to move them is like lifting metal from mud. “Do this, and Jax will find a way to kill you. Kal and Axl and Pierce, too.”

I have no idea if what I say is true. For all I know, the Legends might enjoy this game as much as the kings. I have no right to claim they’ll protect me, but I can only count on the instincts roaring in my blood.

“You place too much value on yourself, little bug—”

“Kal almost ripped apart your enforcer for gripping my arm a little too hard,” I interrupt him. “What do you think he’ll do to you for touching me like this ?”

Baydel’s eyes meet mine, and his groping halts. Something vicious glitters there, and he goes for the top of my dress.

I’ve lost.

Goddess, I’ve lost—

“Baydel,” Jullian warns from beside us. “She’s passed. Let it lie.”

Baydel doesn’t stop—his hand is almost down the top of my dress—

“Baydel,” Jullian says again, this time with an edge of power as he grips Baydel’s shoulder and tugs him away from me.

Cool air washes over me, the effect almost cleansing, but still I can’t move.

Baydel forces out a laugh, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. “I was only ensuring she did,” he says.

Jullian releases him as the other two kings come to flank Baydel. Surrounded, Baydel finally snaps his fingers, and I nearly stumble off the pillar as his power releases me. I suck in gulps of precious air, at the same time singing my own power to sleep. It’s angry and hungry and wants to rip the air from Baydel’s lungs.

Hush , I tell it. Hush.

Brooks looks at me with intrigue and surprise while Lucas—Axl’s father—just laughs and claps Baydel on the back.

“Almost, Baydel,” Lucas says. “Glad you passed.” He turns to me, and I furrow my brow.

“Yes, little bug,” Baydel agrees, feigning a smile, but I can see in his eyes that he’s rattled. Good. Let him be, the prick. “You passed our test.”

A test? This? My ass, it’s a test.

It’s a game. This whole damn situation will be one long, drawn-out game, and I’m sure the kings, and maybe even the Legends, are used to winning.

But I’ve always loved games, especially if they came with a shot of adrenaline. Mind games are new to me, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge, and definitely not when my life’s at stake. If they wanted an easy win, they picked the wrong fucking girl.

“Come,” Baydel says to his friends, giving me a dismissive look as he heads toward the elevator doors. “There’s still a party to attend.”

Brooks and Lucas follow him. Jullian lingers behind, hands in his pockets as he studies me. Oh, goddess, did he stop Baydel only to get me alone? I give him a look that says he’ll have as much luck as Baydel did.

Jullian chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Rylee Gray,” he says. “That’s your real name, correct?” he asks, then glances down at the numbered pin on my dress.

I swallow hard and nod.

“Good,” he says. “Very good.” He gives me another once-over, taking the elevator once it returns.

I have no idea why he thinks I didn’t give my real name, but I can’t waste my mental energy trying to figure it out.

Their little test has me on high alert. I didn’t even get a second to adjust, goddess damn them. Damn them all.

I take a deep breath, shaking out my limbs to try and rid them of the adrenaline crackling beneath my skin. Think. Plan. I have to survive.

First, I need to wrap my head around the game I’m now playing. I can only win if I get the Legends of Chaos to fall in love with me. Not easy. Not with their reputation for mayhem and cruelty.

Jax didn’t feel cruel while we danced; then again, his father just held me immobile while he reached for my breasts. That kind of evil is easily passed down bloodlines, isn’t it?

Before I can think of a second step in my plan, the elevator rumbles again, the doors sliding open. I know it’s the Legends before they step into the room—their powers are that potent.

I breathe deep, knowing the next part of this game: I have to sleep with them.

That’s what the invitation said. That’s what I gave consent for by exchanging my invitation for a pin at the gates when I entered the Choosing.

Erin, what would you do? My sister was always the more confident one, the more seductive one. She had kings’ enforcers and wealthy men eating out of the palm of her hand. She taught me some tricks, but she had it in her blood.

I mentally check myself as the Legends step into the room, and I slip into that in-between space where I’m half myself and half imitating the person my sister would want me to be. Erin certainly wouldn’t cower behind these doors in a panic. She’d make the Legends beg for her by the end of the night.

Can I do that? Can I be like her?

We’re about to find out.