34. Ezra
Ezra
The only thing that pressed on my mind was Casimir. There was a heavy, pulling ache that twisted in my stomach.
Where was he?
“Casimir!” my voice bellowed through the halls as I ran.
My heart pounded violently against my chest as I ran down the steps into the darkness of the oasis with a torch in my hand to lead the way.
One of the male servants, Ethan, followed behind me.
He looked like he could kill one or two, so I allowed it.
He held a dagger as if he knew what to do with it, good.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my brother.
A poisonous feeling dug into my skin—something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
Don’t let it be him, don’t let it be him. I forced the breath back into my lungs. I forced myself to concentrate on the steps as I parted through the soft sands. The air was dry and chilly against my bare chest.
Ethan kept up with my large strides and pointed me in the direction Norrah came from. A flash of her pale face in my mind pressed me to quicken my steps. It felt like an eternity going through the palm trees and shrubs, but really, we had been running for maybe ten minutes.
I couldn’t live without Casimir. We were born together, and we were going to leave together. And I was sure as hell not ready to die anytime soon, and neither was he. I’d drag him back from his heaven if he left me.
We reached the edge of the oasis exactly where I had come from just two days prior with Eshe.
Out on the dark horizon, between the starry sky and the dark sandy sea, I saw a lifeless body on top of the sands. My legs burned as I ran toward the body. My mind raced sporadically with thoughts I hadn’t thought about in years. Of losing someone I cared for, losing someone I loved.
I approached the large body.
No, no, no, it couldn’t be.
Breathless and aching from the sudden sprint, I dug my feet into the sands and stopped.
I dropped my knees to the ground.
Amr.
Why was—how did this happen?
How was he here?
My brows furrowed, and I checked for a pulse.
His body was cold and dead.
Ethan came up behind me. He had finally caught up from my sudden sprint. He grazed a hand over Amr’s neck.
“He’s been dead for a few hours, possibly more than that.”
I muttered a prayer for Amr. He was my friend, the one man who knew my identity. He would have died for me and, well, perhaps he did…
I glanced at the slash between his sides. With how deep the wound looked, he most likely did not suffer for long. Dry blood was painted across the sands near him.
What could have happened?
“I saw him just a few days ago. We were talking…” My words tapered off.
I scrambled my memory. I remembered his worried face as he told me the news. He was telling me about Targon and how he was back from the dead. He was seen by two Atrovians, traveling from Zyriah to Tehara.
Targon, who knew everything there is to know about the Atrove.
Their old leader was back. Could Targon have possibly been following the Atrove instead of the other way around?
Deceiving my men? He would be the only one with the power to do so.
He was their past leader. Most likely, he was smarter than they were.
But why would he be following them—or Amr?
Maybe to get to me.
No, no, none of this made sense.
“Why were you here, Amr?” I whispered in the darkness. Just then, I began to search his dead body for any sort of sign.
And then I saw it. It was right there, as clear as daylight.
Amr’s chest was slashed in a circle and one large gash diagonally. No more Atrovian.
This was what the leader did to those who betrayed them. I’d only had to do this once.
But Amr didn’t betray me. He—
No.
No, no, no.
He was here. Targon was here.
Fucking hell.
Targon killed Amr because he was loyal to me.
“No,” I bellowed.
I have never run faster back to Eshe than I did now, with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
My legs burned, and I was out of breath when the building appeared before me. Time was getting slower, like in my nightmares. I couldn’t run fast enough to her.
I jumped the last three steps and barged through the doors. I was met with a blinding metal sword swinging down toward me.
Lifting my arm, I shoved my sword, gliding against it. With a kick into the sternum, I shoved the man stumbling down.
I took a step back.
Atrovian robes. Four, seven—no, ten of my men swarmed through, attacking my servants.
They were an attacking fringe of the Atrove, clearly loyal to Targon. Amr had come to warn me.
Without wasting a beat, I brought down my wrath, slashing, cutting, and stabbing the men who betrayed my trust. My brother appeared by my side. Thank God I trained him years ago. I prepared him better and trained him longer than I did my own men.
Ethan and my other servants did what they could, but I could already see the bodies piling on the floor.
Blood began painting these dark, marbled floors.
I roared as I slid under my third traitor’s jaw and slammed a boot into his face, ripping my sword from his skull. Casimir took a second sword from the man he had just killed, swinging it around. He had no fear.
He slid his eyes toward me for a split second.
He didn’t know these men were once mine.
One of the traitors thrust a dagger toward Casimir, and I lunged for him. I tackled him down, tumbling onto the slippery marble floor with him. A split second went by before I plunged my dagger into his face, over and over again. I screamed into his empty eyes before I jumped up.
Six more men. Possibly more.
Piercing pain flared into my side as I fell onto the floor. My jaw smashed into the marble, but I twisted my body in time to miss another strike. The side of my core gushed blood. I barely had time to attack when I lunged back to my feet and shoved my long blade at the incoming relentless traitors.
They were older Atrovian, faithful to the last. I didn’t train these men. These men were already there as I began to lead. But that meant one advantage for us: they were weaker.
As he raised his blade, my finger lunged to the base of his sword, slamming it into his teeth, knocking most of them out. I swung his blade into my possession and kicked my boot up his jaw. As soon as he stumbled back, I killed him with his own sword. Less agile.
Now, with two heavy swords in my hands, I lifted them, crossing them both, and pulled them through another traitor.
And another. Casimir slashed one of the traitors.
A few more men entered the building behind us.
I heard a sharp shout from my right, from Casimir. I whirled to see what he saw.
Yven.
She was trembling at the sight of a long sword in her chest. Crimson blood flew down her beige dress and onto the floor. Her knees fell first before the rest of her body slammed down. Dead.
Casimir went rabid.
Killing everyone in his wake.
This was my fault.
Two men stood before me, in a fighting stance, their eyes barely holding mine. I swung my sword and charged them with all my strength. Blood sprayed in my face, but it didn’t stop me from staring into their eyes until the life faded behind them.
Piercing screams of my dying servants rang beside the metal clashing into each other, and all I could think about was Eshe. All I could think about was losing her again.
I had just found her.