open upon my arrival. The Royal Domain’s Supreme Trainer, Smokey Valor, greeted me at the threshold, standing rigid and astute. Beyond his stern exterior, I swore there was a hint of regret looming in the depths of his eyes. Hazel drifted close by, offering the comfort I needed to make it through the suffocating speech that I was forced to endure.
“Happy Birthday, Princess Gray,” Smokey said with a respectful bow. His smoke-gray hair was cropped short on the sides, and he was dressed in his guild finery that blocked his blue currents. I met his deep brown eyes that were continuously haunted by grief. He didn’t look a day over thirty-five.
I fought to breathe but I managed enough inhales to stay on my feet. A set of invisible chains squeezed my chest, growing tighter with each pair of eyes, threatening to shatter my bones.
Upon my entrance, silence swept across the elaborate ballroom. White marble walls shone with pristine beauty, and lavish crystal chandeliers draped high and low from an arched ceiling that depicted fresco paintings of reveling and feasting Kinetics.
A posh bar spanned an entire wall, beckoning me with an endless supply of moonshine. I planned to plant myself there for the night, eventually. The reprieve only alcohol could provide would be my saving grace.
The polished black floor glittered with a majestic radiance. Draped, floor-to-ceiling blue and gray tapestries depicting the Monroe royal crest were spaced with precision along the far wall, blocking the windows that overlooked the abandoned city. Baroque candelabras cast an eerie glow against the white walls that bled black veins.
In unison, all the Kinetics dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. I hated it; I hated how the lack of sincerity was clear in many of their tight postures. Not everyone was full of disdain. Those that weren’t scrutinizing me cast pitying gazes. Yet, they feared the king’s reproach if they got too close or acknowledged how fucked up my entire situation was. My father had worked hard to successfully isolate me from our people, and he’d succeeded.
A white raised dais loomed ahead of me, flanked on either side by an orchestral band. King Forest’s embellished throne perched atop it, primed to cradle his oversized ego.
I straightened my back and tilted my chin upward. My teeth felt like they’d shatter from my clenched jaw. Surveying the people who knelt before me, I avoided eye contact with any of them.
I felt like an intruder in my own home as the tang of bitter resentment combined with hopeless pity cascaded off them, promising to swallow me whole.
I offered a faint smile to the supreme trainer in thanks. Smokey Valor wasn’t the warmest of Kinetics, but he’d never been outwardly disrespectful toward me. Being the top-ranked trainer, my father had delegated him to oversee my training during my teen years to prepare me as an assassin. He was a warrior at heart, honorable but not the most personable. I could relate.
With the shocking disappearance of his only son, Onyx, several years before, his stiff demeanor took a dark turn. No one knew what had happened to the well-respected son of the supreme trainer, but we grieved his loss all the same, accepting that death claimed him. The loss turned Smokey into a shell of the valiant man he once was. I couldn’t fathom the sort of grief that accompanied a missing child, so I regarded Smokey with a softness I didn’t lend to others.
Revelers parted a pathway in unison, so the blue runner rug guided me to the dais. I feigned impassiveness as I glided past each disdainful face. Maintaining the pompous air I’d perfected over the years, I dared anyone to challenge me. My upper lip curled into a subtle snarl, showing my distaste for them in return.
Those that believed my father and Amethyst’s lies didn’t like me—yet they wouldn’t outwardly fuck with me, either. Not anymore, at least. Nearly every day for the past two years, many tried proving to our people that I was a fraud and not worthy as their princess. Emboldened by my father’s unsupportive behavior, some cowards would jump me in groups or ambush me when I was alone. But after I brought enough of them close to death’s door and left them disfigured or disabled, they’d left me alone. In the end, I didn’t “prove” anything except that I wanted my people dead—according to the rumors. It became the widespread belief that I was the one initiating the fights as lies deepened their distrust
Naturally, each Kinetic I gravely injured only pissed off my father. My success in self-defense earned me brutal punishments for the public to witness. The king claimed it was all in the name of justice and to set the example that even royalty wasn’t exempt from our laws. But he knew what message it sent. That he didn’t stand with me.
I faced the crowd once I reached the dais. Hazel placed a simple, silver diadem on the crown of my head, as was the custom of Kinetic royalty. The live orchestral band waned from the slow, melodious tune that sounded my arrival, signaling everyone in the crowd to rise to their feet and bow as one.
King Forest stood to my left. His broad chest puffed out in glory and egotism. A smile curled at the edges as if he held in an inside joke that I wasn’t privy to. Clad in a charcoal suit and a blood-red tie, he stood immaculately in front of his people. His notable forest-green hair and beard drew everyone’s attention as he stood stalwart and proud. I forced a breath in. His captivating energy sucked all the oxygen from the room while he basked in the effect.
“Good evening, my electrifying Kinetics,” Father’s baritone voice boomed off the palatial walls. The crowd remained awestruck at their alluring and charismatic leader, gazing at him as if he were a hallucination. “Tonight, we gather for my beloved daughter’s birthday revel to celebrate her twenty-four years of blessed life. She has devoted many of her short years to fighting for our kind with the hope,” he said, letting the moment hang before he slid in the subtle insult, “to one day become your next outstanding leader in my steed.” It seemed only I could pick out the imperceptible sarcasm.
I forced a smile at my father’s duplicitous claims. My cheeks ached and trembled from the falsity of it.
Why he adopted me to only detest my existence remained an unsolved mystery.
The king enunciated the long pause before he continued. No one dared to breathe as they clung to his energy like they were his puppets, bending to his every whim. “Tonight,” he resumed, relishing in the unified trance that swayed back and forth, as if enchanting his marionettes to life. “Princess Gray Monroe may not be of my blood, yet she is more than a biological daughter could ever be. She is willing to forfeit her life every time she steps beyond these walls in order to seek out Elementals and eradicate them.” The king’s bottomless mahogany eyes cut in my direction, a silent reminder of my recent shortcomings.
I remained standing like a hostage for sale on the chopping block.
One of the personal cooks in the King’s Quarters rumored my father adopted me because he needed an heir. She’d explained how the love of his life died in childbirth, giving birth to a stillborn baby. He apparently loved her so much that he could never settle for another woman.
According to my father, my birth parents were murdered by a pair of Endarkened Elementals in their frenzied need to deplete their energetic life forces or auras. I was only an infant when the monstrous creatures attacked my parents. They hid me behind a dumpster, which spared my life, only to be found by Amethyst in the aftermath, providing my father with a solution to his childless predicament.
I held my father’s pointed stare. The various hues of the burnt umber flecks contrasted against the darker, earthier shades of his irises as I studied him. So many secrets taunted me behind those eyes. Anger, concealed by a fireproof cloak, roared with fierce flames. Even from a distance, the heat from their intensity licked my skin.
The king dropped all pretenses as he bore the full weight of his authority upon me, determined to make me submit to his will as the silent tension deepened. Because it was custom, he wanted me to bow before him to our people. To cower. To show that I could be managed. Controlled. And if I didn’t, his glare ensured I’d pay for it. But I wouldn’t be swayed by him—never again, no matter how much pain he inflicted upon me.
I stood my ground, tilting my head back in defiance, anchoring my stilettos to the marble dais beneath my feet while refusing to bow. Instead, I gifted him a wicked grin, taunting him to do his worst.
His rich green beard pulsed with a life of its own as he clenched his jaw, unable to react in such a public and traditional forum. It’d tarnish his charming image. He broke the muted exchange to face the stunned crowd once again. The weight of the shocked silence was all-consuming. No one defied the king publicly.
I joined my father in gazing at the crowd, focusing my attention on the varying colors of the exposed currents. Red, purple, blue, white, orange, yellow, and green glowed and snaked up and down arms and necks. Although many of our people regarded me with disdain, I couldn’t help but appreciate our unfounded beauty.
Subconsciously, I searched the crowd for a particular Kinetic with slate-colored hair and gold currents. My stomach sank just as fast as I woke up to the late realization that I wouldn’t find Slate or his gold currents that represented his light magic. Longing and sadness settled in my chest as I wished he were here more than anything tonight.
In our natural form, our hair color stood to be a multitude of bizarre colors. At some point in our history, it became our custom to name our children based on the unusual hues. Most Kinetics bore monotone shades, but there were the rare exceptions. I was one of them with my black-and-white strands blended to appear gray. The crowd soon recovered from the shock of witnessing their king challenged as he droned on in a bloated speech. They once again became entranced as I fell hypnotized by the colorful currents charging the room.
“Let’s revel!” my father said, snapping me from my dissociative state.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Only that my ankles and feet were locked up from the unhinged stilettos they forced me to wear. Taking a step, I hissed from the pain.
“Ay! Revel!” a cacophony of cheers chorused, echoing off the marble walls. As if we weren’t living in post-apocalyptic times, everyone began shedding their propriety the moment the formalities ended.
I felt the heat of my father’s glare upon my profile. Turning to face him, I found he’d already made for the direction of his throne on the dais. I moved to take my leave, but something stopped me mid-stride. Pivoting, I watched as the king lowered himself onto the throne with predatory grace, placing his electrified hands on the armrests—a vicious gleam glimmered in his dark eyes.
I spotted Hazel wedged between Amethyst and Forest. Her amber eyes locked with mine. The grave expression she gave me caused my heart to sink to the depths of my bowels. Her porcelain skin paled three shades lighter. Hazel knew something, but she was locked by their sides the entire night as Amethyst’s assistant.
My fingernails dug into my palms. I surveyed the joyous revelers breaking off into groups, hoping to find anything suspicious. Nothing stood out that might cause alarm, but the alarm bells blared in my head, anyway.
Something was wrong.
At the King’s Palace, danger was laced with opulence and hidden behind perfect smiles. The wolves were out tonight, and I was the hunted.