Page 85 of The Nightmare Queen

“Tuah.” Spit lands at Max’s feet. “A shitty one, Abrams.”

The two go round and round, meeting steel every time. Toeing the line of landing a blow. Electricity crackles around the hilt and pommel of Max’s sword as he goads Axel. Meanwhile why they spar, I wait like a sitting duck listening for the whistling sound of Orem’s magic.

My fingers tighten on the hilt of my sword.Swoosh. Swoosh.The weight of it swinging like a pendulum in my palm. “Come out. Come out, little Abrams. You can’t hide in the dark forever. That’s my favorite place to play, dear.” A blur of red crosses my peripheral. I bring my sword up, angling behind me just a little and swing.CLANK!The impact sends pain up my wrists reminding me why I’ve always preferred daggers or stars to swords. They’re light and quick to make their marks in comparison.

He vanishes again and within seconds, I am yanked into Oblivion my hair wrapped tightly around Orem’s hand. His blade positioned at my collarbone. “You…ugh!Fight dirty, little Abrams.” His palms are sweaty causing his hold to give a little.

All around us, darkness clouds. Only the wink of stars to illuminate wherever it is he’s brought us. Orem’s magic while similar to Armond’s Void magic. It’s uses are much more expansive and a lot less precise. Absorbing any who cross their wrath into Oblivion. Whether you go in or out, seen or heard, is at the command of the one Wielding it.

His voice echoes all around us. “I thought you liked the dark, Majesty.” With his grip loosening on my hair and the weight of his sword dragging his hand down I seize my opportunity. My hand lands smack in the center of his face. Causing him to yelp, letting go of me completely. Ipull all of my magic forward. My tendrils sweeping out of me, they slither and search for their mark. I plunge into his mind, breaking through every mental wall and barrier.

Images of his parents, of Max, of Millicent -interesting- surface. His fears becoming palpable and malleable.

Just as I bring the first of his fears to light, taunting and twisting it to reality, he lets out a guttural scream. His shadows unravel from the inside out and we both tumble to the ground, swords clattering beside us.

I keep a few tendrils wrapped around him as I pin him to the floor. “Do you yield?” Orem sucks his lip between his teeth as he fights to switch our positions. “Does it..look..like I fucking..yield?” He bites.

I drag my finger down his jaw. “Tsk tsk tsk. Such foul language from such a young, pretty face.” He squirms underneath me. “Call it, Mecham!” I shout over my shoulder.

“She wins, brother.”

Orem’s face screws up in contempt and he shoves me off of him. A finger jabbing into my face. “You cheat.”

I stick my tongue out, “you Wielded first. Sore loser.” He helps me up anyways, flicking my ear before walking away to his brother. The other soldiers in the room stare at us, too stunned to speak at the spars they witnessed. Over their heads and in the shadowed corner stands Ezra, watching and by the looks of it waiting for me. I dust myself off and pass the weapons to Axel.

When I walk over to the corner where Ezra stands, he doesn’t say anything at first. We lean against the wall watching the three others go again quietly for awhile until Ezra turns on his heel, a subtle command in his departure.Follow me.

He holds the door open for me into their apartment and then again into his bedroom. He shucks off his armor next to the bed resting on the edge of it. The gold velvet duvet looks worn, half crumpled across the unmade bed that has no posts to frame it. The room is in complete disarray, something so contradictory to his personality. The simple walnut wardrobe in the corner has clothes pulled out and hanging off the hangers. The narrow desk that’s pushed against the wall under the window has his papers and correspondence all. strewn across it.

I mover quietly over to the desk and sift through the papers,

“Any updates I should be caught up on?” If there is one thing I trust he and Armond to do, it is to correspond with Felix and the general on my behalf. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what exactly the correspondence is about.

“Uh.” He stands up coming up beside me. “Well, Vada’s still missing. But they’re uh they’re working on cleaning up the cities that were taken over.” His voice is gravelly and tight and his fingers drag on the wood, curling around the papers and wrinkling them in the process.

My hand raises to his shoulder, “Ezra…”

“I don’t get it.” The pain in his voice is nothing compared to the rawness in his eyes as he turns to look at me. “How can you stand to be near him. How can you stand to touch him, to sleep near him, to call him the things you do in front of everyone?”

I stand there searching for the words to say. “Because I have to. To get close to his parents—”

“OH BULLSHIT EVEERA!” He shouts grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “This isn’t about his parents?! Maybe it was once but not now. No, you’re in this for yourself too.”

My mouth drops, not liking the feeling that takes hold as his words settle in. “I-I’m not!”

His lips press into a firm line. “You are. Five years, E. You think I don’tsee? That I don’t watch? I’m your head guard. It’s my whole purpose; watching you. And the way you look at each other? It’s not hate.” His laughter was cruel. “But it never was for him. And now….with you…” His face turns in disgust before his eyes drop to my lips. And much to my shock in the next second his lips slam down onto mine. Hard and bruising. Nothing sweet, nothing like his usual behavior. It’s frantic and rushed.

“Ezra.” I say in between kisses. Both my hands coming up to push on his shoulders. “Ezra, no. No.” He doesn’t relent on his pressure at all. My nails are clawing at his tunic, clawing athim,but it only makes him squeeze me tighter his hips pushing me up against something hard.

He breaks away to trail his rough kisses down my neck then back up to my mouth. “Five.”Gasp.“Years.” He pants, his tongue spearing into my mouth is an unwelcome intrusion.

I pull my head back trying to catch my breath, “Ezra, let go of me.” I try again, turning my head so that he can’t kiss me again.

Let go of you, or let go of your heart?The voice in my head taunts. His hair has come undone falling around his face as his forehead meets the crook of my neck. The hard thing he pushed me up against turns out to be his desk, the two of us awkwardly leaning on it.

“I love you…” he says, voice cracking. The edge of brokenness to it twists in my gut. I thought it would be disgust but this feels more like pity. Pity and guilt.

“Let go, Ezra.” It’s all I can muster out and that’s all it takes. To break the spell winding around his grief as he leaps off me like he’s just touched hot coals. Casting his eyes away from me again.

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