Chapter 8 Death wonders how long Blair Archer can pretend to read her book. After five days of imprisonment within her own room, the Tele remains on the same page. Mara, selfishly, finds this rather vexing, as she would very much like to continue reading over her shoulder. Although, such feigned engrossment is rather clever on Blair's part, as it helps to curb Gingersnap's (the Tele's nickname, of course) appetite for constant commentary. Rather than standing outside the door, Lenny has taken a liking to joining the Tele in her boredom-and subsequently, Mara's. Their relentless quarreling has thoroughly entertained Death over the past few days, complete with the mental throwing of objects and several detailed threats. Lenny manages to complain about his stiff neck nearly every hour (he sleeps on a patch of floor with the occasional gifted blanket), while Blair stares glassily at that book, blissfully ignoring him. They have yet to tear each other apart, but Death is holding out hope. It is a good thing Mara still enjoys their company-though draining at times-because she has no other souls to stalk at present. After the parade bombing, Death thought it best to adamantly avoid the king until she was prepared to answer what questions he will undoubtedly have. You see, she hadn't planned to appear under such circumstances, but Kitt's immediate danger in that moment had drawn Mara to him. Their connection is one she has never experienced, for Death feels his fading soul as if it were her own. This human's demise is unique-but he need not know that. You see, Death clutches the truth closely, as it is the only thing one is allowed to bring with them into the afterlife. Blair drops the book onto her bed, sighing in relief when Lenny slips from her room for the second time this evening (he drinks a lot of water, and the Tele has banned him from using her washroom). So, Death settles onto the comforter beside her and watches the sun slowly sink beyond the line of windows. She finds this rather peaceful, but Blair's scowl at the sight seems to indicate otherwise. Ahh. Mara understands (unlike the rumors, she is not entirely void of empathy). Life is slowly slipping by-without the Tele. She seems to blame herself for this, as though such a punishment is deserved. Mara often wonders about this young woman-who she is and what she wishes to become. Blair Archer is a mystery that Death intends to solve. The Tele throws a pillow over her head. If Mara were to guess-she often does when it comes to humans-it seems to her like Blair is attempting to smother a memory. This theory is only confirmed when the Tele sits up suddenly, gasping for air. Death blinks at the outburst. Then at the look of defiance Blair summons to her features. The bizarre woman clasps her hands together. Swallows thickly. Mara watches her pick mindlessly at the skin on her left palm. It is a habit she's observed before. Yes, what is it that haunts a woman of such formidability? The distant sound of someone approaching draws the attention of both Blair and the shadow of Death beside her. Click. Click. Click. The Tele rolls her eyes, fervently. She seems to know this approaching person. The realization summons a short woman with unnaturally stern expressions. She throws open the door (she, too, must have a key) and clicks toward Blair in a pair of tall heels. "Unacceptable." Cropped brown hair swishes with the declaration. "Absolutely unacceptable." Mara flicks her gaze between the women. Their scowls alone bear enough resemblance to deem them related. This must be the Tele Tyrant's mother (again, not Death's nickname). Blair swipes up the book to continue her charade of reading. "This should be good," she mocks. Hmm. Not particularly close with her mother, Death gathers. "It has been five days, Blair." Based on the Tele's hardening expression, it seems the use of her name is hardly a good thing. "Five days that should have been spent training and apprenticing with your father," the woman seethes. Her heels click against the floor until she is looming over the bed. "But no. You are trapped in this room because even the king thinks you can't handle an Ordinary." She meets her daughter's gaze before landing the final blow. "And he is right." To Blair's credit, she keeps her head high and her mouth shut. It seems the woman despises a lack of reaction, so she happily spits more malice into the silence. "I didn't raise you to be weak." "Really?" Blair finally snaps. "Because weakness runs in your blood, not mine." It happens so quickly, the slap across Blair's face. Even Death is startled by this mother's willingness to strike her own daughter, though not entirely surprised. It is those closest to us who are often most cruel. Mara knows this firsthand, for she, too, had been wronged. But Death was quick to remedy that grave error. The force of that strike has the Tele's head whipping to the side. And yet, she still manages to emanate that typical smugness. For it was she who struck the harder blow. The woman breathes heavily beside Mara while her daughter's cheek grows red and splotchy. Blair stares up at her mother, decidedly unafraid. It is a look that has likely been well practiced over the years. "I won't let your inadequacy ruin this family," the woman declares. "You will continue our legacy." Blair forces a biting smile. "I'll disgrace us all." "Then you will have proved me right." The woman's tone is smug. Death sees where Blair gets it from. "And I know how much you hate that." They glare at each other, displaying the harshness they share. A long moment passes in which they revel in their joint animosity. Then the Tele's mother clicks her heels toward the open door. "Oh, and that Ordinary is engaged to the king," she says over a shoulder. "If she becomes queen, you will answer to her. And she will never set you free." Engaged. This is news to Death. Blair blows out a shaky breath when her mother finally strides from the room. She then lifts a hand to her stinging cheek, anger flooding her features. "Well, she seems lovely." The Imperial's sarcasm only has Blair rolling her watering eyes. He steps hesitantly into the room, his brow creasing beneath that white mask. "Does she always speak to you that way?" Now his tone is genuine. This human is kind, Mara observes, not for the first time. His soul is warm, inviting-the type that will be mourned. This thought has something within her, long dead and cold, twinging with jealousy. With a deep breath, the Tele wipes all emotion from her features-straightens her spine, lifts her chin. "Why don't you just eavesdrop on our next conversation to see how it compares?" "No, I wouldn't do that." Lenny sounds offended. "I only heard because the door was open, but I wouldn't go out of my way to invade the little privacy you now have." "So," Blair starts, disinterested, "you have super hearing but don't use it to eavesdrop?" Mara is beginning to better understand this Hyper ability of his (such possession of power is used loosely, remember). The Imperial folds his arms over the rumpled uniform he slept in. Death has begun to realize that he owns little else. "Not if I don't want to. It's... it's like a dial," he explains distantly. "I can turn my senses up or down whenever I want." This still does not explain how he recognized Mara's presence-yet another mystery for her to decipher. Blair's gaze flicks back to the book she is still pretending to read. "How disappointing." "Yeah, we get it," Lenny sighs out in defeat. "I have a shitty power." "Well, yes." The Tele doesn't bother looking at him. "But it's even more disappointing that you aren't using said shitty power to your advantage." The Imperial simply stares at her. "Oh." "I have fun with my ability all the time." The words have hardly left her lips before that purple ball Lenny so loves to bounce is hitting him in the face once again. "See?" This object is frequently materializing to cause bodily harm, Death observes quietly. "I know what you're doing," the Imperial declares while rubbing his forehead. "You're deflecting. Why won't you talk about your mom?" "Because she's a bitch," Blair answers simply. Lenny snorts. "Must run in the family." "No." The Tele snaps her book shut. "We are made this way." The Imperial voices Death's confusion. "Are you referring to, uh, bitches in general? Or...?" "If you're so concerned about my relationship with my mother," Blair bites, "help me escape it. Our deal is almost up." "About that." Lenny sits on the edge of the bed, ignoring the abhorrent look on the Tele's face. Mara sits beside him, and to her veiled disappointment, no one objects. "I ran into Paedyn on her way to dinner with the king. And..." He chuckles darkly. "She still very much hates you." "Obviously," Blair snaps. "You tell me that instead of mentioning they are engaged? With how much you talk, I at least figured the important stuff would slip out." Lenny smiles timidly. "Right. Sorry about that. I forget you don't have a shitty ability that allows you to overhear conversations." His words tumble out in a rush. "See, the day we started this unfortunate assignment, Pae came and visited me outside your door. I figured you heard the commotion she caused trying to get to you, and our conversation about the engagement." "Well, I didn't." The Tele swallows her snarl. "What the hell is Kitt doing marrying that Ordinary?" "The right thing," Lenny supplies. "Despite Ilya needing resources, uniting the Elites and Ordinaries is the right thing to do. And Paedyn can help do that." "Of course you would feel that way." There is a sharp edge to her voice. "You are practically an Ordinary yourself." "Fine," the Imperial admits. "I may be next to Ordinary, but you're the one who is trapped in this room, powerless." A fine point, Mara thinks. She finds herself continually rooting for this young man. Even Death has deemed him quite enjoyable. "Powerless?" Blair scoffs. She is, regrettably, a bit harder to enjoy. Smugly, she adds, "I can walk out that door whenever I like." "So why didn't you?" Lenny throws his hands up in exasperation. "No one was stopping you from running away until a few days ago. You had your whole life to leave. But you didn't." Mara flicks her gaze between them. The Imperial's expression remains earnest, imploring. But the Tele wears a mask much colder, cutting. It is as though she wavers on the edge of something egregiously irreversible. Like a terrible truth sits on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she settles on a deflecting demand. "What is the plan?" The shadow of sadness that darkens Lenny's face does not go unnoticed by Death. He wishes to understand this temperamental Tele, bridge the cavern between them. But Blair refuses to meet him halfway. Humans are such difficult creatures, Mara has come to remember. They have a nasty habit of making everything exceedingly harder for themselves. "Fine," Lenny sighs. "But you're not going to like it." "That's hardly surprising." The Imperial paces a crooked path across the floor. "Okay, well, as I mentioned, Paedyn wants you dead. You want to flee Ilya without anyone looking for you. And I want to still have some dignity left by the time we're done with this." "If you had any to begin with," Blair sneers beneath her breath. "You know what?" Lenny shakes his head. "You are almost funny, Blair Archer. If only you used your powers for good." She almost smiles at that. Death nearly does as well. The moment is fleeting. "So?" The Tele huffs. "Get on with the plan, gingersnap." "All right, all right." He looks slightly concerned for his safety. Blair seems to relish the sight. Death is thoroughly enjoying herself. "So... Paedyn kind of needs to kill you." In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...