Powerful: A Powerless Story

‘What did I say about sleeping in this shithole?’

She smiles, folding her long legs beneath her, looking impossibly comfortable atop the scratchy rugs behind the Fort. ‘Um, that you loved it and would be happy to stay again if it meant spending more time with me?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Those words certainly didn’t come out of my mouth, but I can’t argue with that last part.’

She flashes one of those smiles at me, the type that makes it hard to look away. ‘Good. Because I decided that we should visit the Fort on the night of each ball.’ She tears off a piece of sweet dough from the sticky bun I surprised her with. ‘Call it superstition, but we were here the night of the first ball, and Paedyn is still alive and well. So I plan on continuing our tradition.’

Hera isn’t.

Ignoring that thought, just as I have been every day, I say slowly, ‘Well, a visit implies that I won’t have to sleep here, so…’

‘Oh, yes you will!’ she huffs. ‘It wasn’t that bad last time.’

‘My back is still sore.’

‘It’s been a week!’

I falter at the realization.

It’s been a week.

A week since I tore that flyer from a crumbling wall, skimming it over to find that Hera was stabbed to death in the first Trial.

A week since I wept in Adena’s arms. Felt her soothing touches. Voiced my guilt, my regret, my fears.

A week since I began mourning the loss of her.

But I’ve cried enough, drowned the pain in my tears. It all feels dull now, though the memory of her is anything but. I’m tired of the tears, the constant state of despair. Hera would scold me for hurting so much at the loss of her. She would quietly tell me to pull myself together, just as she had so many times over the years.

So, here I am, attempting to do just that. Though I’ve had quite the distraction to keep me company.

‘Fine,’ I say, accepting Adena’s offer. ‘The Fort it is. Thank the Plague I only have to do this one more time after tonight.’

‘Great!’ She squeals slightly, giddy at my agreement. ‘And before I know it, Pae will be back to keep me company.’

Before I can offer my sarcasm, she’s speaking again. ‘Oh, that reminds me! We need to redecorate before she gets home!’

She frowns at the blank look on my face. I gesture around us. ‘Sure, knock yourself out, honey.’

‘Makoto,’ she says sternly. The sound of my full name falling from her lips has my own quirking. ‘It will only take a minute. Come on, up you go.’

After begrudgingly climbing to my feet, I discover that it would not, in fact, take a minute. Adena has me securing yarn on either side of the alley walls, stretching it over the length of the Fort. She then proceeds to stitch squares of fabric across it, creating a colorful banner she likes to call ‘festive but not seeming too shocked that she survived’.

It wasn’t long before I was being forced to rearrange the assortment of garbage they sleep behind, organizing the barrier in a ‘more appealing manner’, or so she believes. With finishing touches that include a seemingly new blanket and a single pillow to share, I’m finally allowed to take a seat.

‘See!’ Adena claps her hands from where she admires the slightly less shitty sleeping arrangement. ‘So much better. Pae will be so shocked.’

I bite into the sticky bun, my tone mocking as I mutter, ‘Yes, nothing says “welcome home” like a newly arranged pile of garbage.’

She puts a hand on her hip. ‘This pile of garbage is all I’ve got.’

‘I thought you had me?’

Her eyes flutter in a way that makes me wonder how to get her to do it again. ‘Do I?’

I swallow, forcing the feeble words from my mouth. ‘So long as you’ll take me.’

‘And if I don’t?’ she asks softly.

‘Then no one ever will.’

Her eyes wander over me, and I can’t say I dislike the feel of it. After clearing her throat and looking away timidly, she walks towards the barrier before phasing right through it.

Our shoulders brush when she sits beside me, and I tense at the feel of it. Not because I don’t want her, but because I’m so unused to someone wanting me. Choosing me. Finding me worth the effort.

Because I’m completely undeserving of it. Of her. If darkness is the absence of light, then that is what I am when she is not around. And I wonder how I’ve stumbled this long without her to guide me.

‘What is it like?’ Her question unexpectedly forces me from my thoughts. ‘Having all that power?’

I don’t even hesitate. ‘Lonely.’

‘Because no one knows about you?’

I nod. ‘And I know about everyone else.’

‘Everyone is told that Kai is the most powerful Elite in decades,’ she says softly. ‘And yet, here you are, sharing his power and living in the slums.’

‘Hiding in the slums,’ I spit bitterly.

She sighs, sounding shockingly frustrated. ‘Do you really think the king would kill you if he knew you were a Wielder?’

‘I think he would see me as nothing but a threat to him,’ I say dully. ‘Just like the Fatals. He only kept one of each and now has a Wielder who happens to be a son he can control.’

She studies me as though I’m one of her rows of stitches. ‘You two seem oddly similar. In more ways than just ability.’

‘Well, he’s done a lot of shit. And I’m just pretty shitty.’ I take another bite of honey-drenched dough. ‘I’m sure we’d be the best of friends under different circumstances.’

Her responding hum tells me she agrees. And, apparently, that is the only answer she cares to offer. She’s suddenly very distracted by the trail of curls falling across her shoulders, and, now, so am I. What did I say to her about them? Ah, yes. Something profoundly akin to them being bouncy.

What a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. As if I don’t admire the shine of each ringlet, or the way they cling to one another in an intertwining hug. As if I can’t stop myself from staring at the column of her neck when she pulls that curly hair into a messy knot, the forgotten strands like swirling ink down her back.

As if I can stop myself from admiring how easily a laugh parts her soft lips. The way the sun warms her skin, as though she was meant to be cloaked in light. It’s how joy bubbles out of her in the form of clapping hands and endearing rambles. It’s the way my thoughts never cease to wander towards her, my heart falling senselessly after.

And I fear that I’ve admired every inch of her.

‘I have something for you.’

She follows this admission with a soft giggle that is equally uneasy and intoxicating. Leaning back on my forearms, I voice my wishful thinking. ‘I do hope it’s a bed.’

‘Nope,’ she answers far too cheerily. ‘Even better. I hope.’

‘Little else is more appealing than sleeping through the night.’ I look up at her fidgeting form, crossed legs bouncing rhythmically. ‘But give it your best shot, hun.’

A look of immense distress contorts her face. ‘Well, now I’m nervous!’ She lifts a hand. ‘That’s it. I can’t give it to you now. It’s not ready.’

‘Plagues, what have I done?’ I mutter. ‘Come on, Dena. Let me see it. I’m sure it’s… fabulous – or whatever other fluffy word you like to use.’

Her eyes flutter shut when she takes a deep breath. So ridiculously dramatic, this one. ‘Okay, okay.’ It’s with a sudden determination that her eyes open. ‘I’ve been working on something during my free time at the castle. And I noticed that you don’t have anything to carry your knives in. Soooo,’ she draws out the word, ‘I figured I’m pretty qualified to help you with that – I mean, I made Pae’s vest, after all, and that has played a pivotal part in her thieving career—’

‘The sheer number of words you speak each day is astounding—’

‘—because the design is unique to her needs,’ she finishes, unfazed by my interruption. ‘So, I did the same for you.’

After I’ve nodded my encouragement several times, she finally slips something from the cloth bag beside her. She displays the item with outstretched arms as I run my gaze over the thick fabric paired with the same white leather used to make my Imperial mask.

I blink, bewildered by the beautiful weapons belt before me, equipped with uniquely sized holsters for each of my knives. Reaching out, I trace the patches of leather with my fingers, feeling each careful stitch and stretch of durable fabric.

I feel her eyes on me as I sit up slowly, taking the gift gently from her hands. ‘Do you…’ She trails off before starting again with a small smile. ‘Do you like it? I can extend the pockets for each knife, if you like. I wasn’t really sure how long to make them…’

‘No.’ My voice is quietly firm. ‘No, I want it exactly as you made it. It’s perfect.’

‘Really?’ she breathes hesitantly even as her face lights up. ‘Better than a bed?’

I look at her, allowing myself to share the smile reserved only for her. ‘Far better than a bed.’

She claps, and I’m no longer surprised by the action. Nor am I embittered by the joy that caused it. All I am is fortunate enough to witness it.

‘Oh, good!’ She sighs, sagging in relief. When I can do nothing but stare at it, she waves an insistent hand. ‘Well, go on! Try it on!’

I oblige with little argument and swing the belt round me, buckling it quickly. It sits low on my hips, allowing easy access to the knives that will soon line it.

I shake my head in disbelief. ‘This may be the only thing anyone has ever gotten me, but I’m quite certain nothing could be better.’

‘That sounds like a challenge,’ she remarks with a typical smile. ‘The next gift will have to be even more spectacular.’

With a blank look, I state my rebuttal. ‘Oh, there will be no more gifts.’

Making her frown like this would upset me if it weren’t for such a ridiculous reason. ‘And why not?’

I lean in, watching her eyes widen at my sudden closeness. ‘Because I know how distraught you will be when nothing can compare to this.’

She twists a loose curl round her finger – an absentminded action I catch her doing often. ‘We will see about that.’

‘Dena,’ I say softly, though it causes her head to whip up violently. ‘Thank you.’

Her smile is sad. ‘I’m sorry that I’m the first to give you a gift.’

‘I’m not.’ The words fall quickly from my lips. ‘I would have waited another nineteen years if it meant you were the first good memory I was gifted.’

Hazel eyes wander up to mine. ‘But you deserve more than one good memory.’

‘Then it’s a good thing I’m planning on keeping you around.’

She smiles at me, seeming to brighten the darkening alley around us. ‘I would like that very much, Mak.’

The words have barely left her lips before a yawn smothers them. I quirk an eyebrow. ‘Tired?’

‘Exhausted,’ she says amidst another yawn. ‘It is quite the workout walking down here from the castle.’

I scoff. ‘Yeah, remind me to add endurance training to our fighting sessions.’

She groans, giving me a pleading look. ‘And what will that be?’

I shrug before leaning back on my hands. ‘I don’t know. Make you run down the street a few times. Maybe dodge a couple of children.’ A smile teases the corners of my mouth. ‘That’ll wear you out enough to lessen your word count in the evening.’

She crosses her arms defensively, her tone even more so. ‘Well, maybe my word count and I should go elsewhere if we’re unappreciated.’

‘Oh, honey, it’s more than appreciated. I dare say it’s even admired.’

She swallows, looking sheepish. ‘And that’s why you barely look at me when I’m talking?’

I shake my head, thoroughly exasperated. ‘Dena, if I looked at you while you were talking, I can’t guarantee that I’d be paying attention to what you’re saying.’

‘Oh.’ There’s a long pause as she mulls this over. ‘I see.’

Even in the spreading shadows, I can make out her flustered features. She clears her throat a few too many times before slowly lowering her back onto the rough rug beneath us. After piling every blanket and scrap of fabric on top of her, she burrows beneath the cocoon of cloth.

A hand shoots out from beneath the mound, patting the space beside her. ‘Lay down,’ she insists. ‘Here, I’ll even share my blankets.’

I stiffen. ‘I think something just moved beneath the rug.’

‘Oh, it is so toasty under here!’ Adena croons over my concern.

‘Yeah, stay there so whatever is crawling around will burrow in there with you.’

Before I have a chance to run away, she’s tugging me by the weapons belt. I’m lying beside her in a heartbeat, unsure of how I found myself in this very unpleasant position.

‘See, it’s not so bad!’ I can hear the smile in her voice and do not bother to return it.

‘Sure, if you enjoy restless sleep.’

Her body wiggles closer to mine, pressing a bare shoulder against my thinly clothed one. The heat of her thoroughly warms me, even managing to spread up to my cheeks. She feels suddenly delicate beside me, and the urge to wrap a protective arm round her is difficult to shake.

‘I count the stars,’ she says softly. ‘To help me sleep.’

I roll my head towards her, watching her silhouette stare up into the sky. Awe laces each word from her soft lips. ‘I always wondered how something could shine so bright, even while being swallowed in darkness.’

My eyes run over the shadowed outline of her face. ‘I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.’

‘I hope they know how admired they are up there,’ she murmurs. ‘I mean, I count them before bed every night.’

I shake my head at the sight of her admiring something far duller than she.

‘I’m quite sure that even the stars are envious of you.’

Her head turns towards me, pulling her eyes from the sky and pinning them on me. ‘What?’

‘You make even the stars envious,’ I repeat softly, leaning towards her. ‘Because one day – far from now – you will be up there beside them, outshining every single one.’

I’m not sure what it is about her that has me suddenly spewing prose like a poet, but if I’ve learned anything from her, it is to no longer hide what it is I’m feeling. Even if that means admitting things I likely shouldn’t.

I can feel her quick breaths, practically hear her racing thoughts. Every inch of her is tense against me, and when my knuckles brush hers, air catches in her throat. After several shaky breaths, she whispers, ‘And will you be beside me up there?’

‘If I should be so lucky.’

‘Promise me,’ she murmurs sternly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

I nod against her hair. ‘I promise, Dena.’