Chapter Two

Fin.

In truth, I’m not heading to Selene. I have no reason to visit the Capitol. No, I need to head to the Sovereign’s estate. Again, I remove the letter from my bag.

'Greetings Fintan Toya,

It is with great joy that we extend to you a formal invitation to participate in the Trial for the Crown. With the sudden and tragic passing of Mancer Districts, Sovereign, we must, with heavy hearts, lay to rest Alexander Hart, Forty-fifth Sovereign of the Eos Council of Legacies. With his passing, a new Sovereign must rise to the chair. Alexander’s only son, Edward Hart, will rise to become Sovereign. As with tradition, Edward may not claim his chair on the Council until married. You have been hand-selected to run for the crown. When the seven days of district mourning have passed, please arrive promptly at the Mancer Estate to participate.

With hope,

Legacies Council of Eos.'

I begged Kano for this letter. Now it is meaningless; of course, they would wait to hold the trial until after the district mourning has passed. Now I’m forced to sneak onto government property.

As a citizen of an outer village, my allowance to travel is limited. Though it is a good reason to travel at night, it is not my primary one. Sneaking into the estate is my only option. When you show up at the gates, you are required to get your background run. Mainly for proof of vaccination, as legacies are almost entirely immune to most non-legacy illnesses or diseases. But your background file holds all your information. If they run my file, they’ll see my village has been flagged for treason; they’ll see why, and they’ll find it oddly suspicious. They’d never let me through. Let alone during the event of the Sovereign’s passing.

I knock on the door hastily and suck in a deep breath of air. Amelia opens the door, and her face lights up when she lays eyes on me. “Oh my god, Fin! I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?” She asks with a lazy grin as she leans against the doorway.

“What? I can’t show up to see my soul sister?” I smile and pull her into a hug, savoring the contact. I take in a lungful of that soft smell she’s always had. Her shoulder-length auburn hair tickles my nose. I pull back and smack a kiss on her cheek. “So is Kano home?” I chew my bottom lip and try to act as normal as possible.

“So that's what you’re here for. Really smooth, Fin.” Amelia teases as she crosses her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes. I’ve known Amelia since I was nine; she’s always had such peculiar purple eyes—big, catlike, and almost too shiny. She sticks a thumb towards the backyard and huffs. “He’s out back playing with his sword.”

“You're a lifesaver, Em. I’m sorry we can’t hang out; there’s a bit of an emergency.”

"Yeah, whatever. You owe me though; he’s totally pissed for some reason. He said not to let you back if you show up. Don’t tell him.”

“My lips are sealed,” I say, crossing my heart. She grabs the collar of my shirt and plants a kiss on my cheek. I head towards the gate to their backyard, blowing a kiss in Amelia’s direction. I love Amelia. Her brother? Not so much.

I sigh, make my way to the backyard, and lay eyes on Kano. Shirtless. The muscles of his back flex with each sure stroke of his sword. The Syn of Mancer is especially striking against Kano’s skin.

The Lichtenberg mark spreads across the expanse of his back like the branches of a tree, reaching to the strong muscles of his neck; it’s darker than his skin, at least three shades. I groan. He’s hacking away at a wooden dummy with strong, even swoops of his sword. His legs are slightly spread apart, and his grip on the handle is firm. He is, of course, extremely fit; you have to be when you’re an enforcer. Scars crisscross his neck and shoulders. In my opinion, though, His best feature is his hair. It’s beautiful—thick and glossy, with heavy waves. Right now it's pulled into a now disheveled bun at the top of his head, loose pieces curling around his ears. As he strikes the dummy, his muscles ripple and flex.

I take a moment to admire how large and beautiful he is. I think he’s more suited for dancing. We used to dance. I grimace. He was graceful on stage, moving his body languidly. His large frame is akin to water.

The moment is broken when he stops, turning his head to pin those intense green eyes on me.

“What are you doing here, Fin?” His voice is deep and smooth, like thick honey. He tosses his sword aside and regards me carefully as he strolls closer.

“You know why. I need your help. I’m running out of time, Kano.”

“And you know I told you I’m not helping anymore. I did enough.”

“Kano, the trials won’t happen until after the seven days of mourning. That gets me nowhere!” My voice rises in pitch, and my frustration is bleeding into my words. I scratch at the skin of my wrists.

“I got you the letter; I got you the seven days. I’m not a part of your mess.”

“Come on, Kano, I just need you to get me into the estate. I can do the rest from there.”

“No.” He turns his back on me, a clear indication he wants to end the interaction. I am far too desperate to let that happen.

“If you don’t help me, I’ll tell everyone you schemed with me. The letter will be clear proof. They don’t extend Crown invitations to outer village girls. Especially not one from a village flagged for treason.”

Kano freezes, his body going rigid with tension. He turns, and in a blur of motion, he’s directly in front of me. “Fuck you, Fintan. I’m not going to jeopardize my job. Just because you got to breeze through fucking life doesn’t mean everyone else did too.” He says the words so calmly and measuredly that you wouldn’t think he’s mad. The cord of his neck and the tight set of his jaw are clear indications that he’s absolutely livid.

Too bad. I am an animal being cornered; I would rather chew off my leg than lay down and die. Lie down and take it. No, I refuse. I barely understand his words. I didn’t breeze through life.

“What the hell are you talking about? I'm trying to stay alive.” I tug my fingers through my hair and tilt my chin up, squaring my shoulders.

“They’re not going to fucking kill you, Fin. Grow up.” He crosses his arms over the wide expanse of his chest.

“Then what will they do? I killed the goddamn Sovereign; I burned him alive! They'll do what? Slap me on the wrist. No! They kill me in a public execution in front of everyone. The best I can hope for would be life in prison, and that's a stretch.” I hold his gaze, grinding my molars as I clench my fists.

“And if I don’t turn myself in, they’ll burn down the village and execute us all for treason! I don’t want to die. I know I sound like a child, but I refuse to just... just give up! You can help me, Kano.” I’m practically begging him at this point; I need him to see reason. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t die. Gila needs me; my mom isn’t fit to raise her, and she can’t live in Selene as a legacy.

My mind circles back to the same place it always returns. Just tell him. Tell them. Tell someone. Fire licks up my throat, and I want to vomit. I should, but no, I need to tell Kano why I deserve his help. But what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks it's my fault? Should I have just lied there and taken it?

The authorities couldn’t care less why I killed Alexander, simply because I did. It’s easier to blackmail Kano; it’s easier to have this little control over the situation than to bear myself to him and wait for him to burn me back. That voice in the back of my mind reminds me how weak I am. I push it away; bugs are crawling on my skin. This will work.

If he’s mad, then I’m not sure who I am when I think back to what happened that goddamn day. I feel as though I’m being filled with something hot and sharp. It pokes at my skin, causing small, searing burns throughout my entire being.

The quiet moments I have alone taunt me and remind me how weak I was. I never want to feel that helpless again, and yet here I am, a slave to my fear. Other times it’s akin to petulant rage; I want to throw a tantrum like that of a toddler, crying and screaming and going on about how it isn’t fair. I don’t deserve it.

Kano swallows, his eyes softening a degree, and I see it: pity. Pity for how royally I fucked my life. Pity for how I’m nothing but a desperate coward too scared to die. To face the consequences. It’s not my fault. It’s the honest truth. So why am I being punished like this?

“Beat me in a fight. You won’t turn me in. If you win, I’ll help you.”