Chapter 7 Eveera
Eveera
He came back with more tonics that night.
I fell into a deep sleep after my discussion with Axel, his presence lulling me into a place of safety. That was until I woke up, choking down the bitter metallic liquid.
Fighting for my breath, my nails score down Ezra’s already scarred neck, forcing him to leap back from my touch.
The scorch marks turned scars from Max’s apparent outburst after the battle are still a sore spot for him.
Though I’m sure the fear-filled memory of the corporeal claws I favored so much contributed to his reaction when my nails met his flesh.
The tonic is acrid, more so than usual, and tears threaten to fall from the corners of my eyes while I struggle against swallowing.
“Just breathe, Nightmare.” The voice inside my head whispers. His voice. I can’t, I internally scream, my body convulsing as the tonic’s magic snuffs out my Wield even farther.
My wild movements managed to leave jagged scratch marks down Ezra’s neck, which he rubs, wincing. “I have to meet with someone in the city. You’re coming with me.”
“Joy.” I rasp, the word coming out as smoothly as sandpaper. Tangling my fingers into my curls, I wind my hair into a large knot at the crown of my head.
Shoving my feet into my boots, I march my way over to the sink in the corner of the room. The cold water hits my face, and I stand there for a minute. My body is prone over the bowl, my hands braced on either side as I feel the cold droplets slide down my cheeks and off my chin.
I don’t dare look at myself in the dingy mirror.
I can feel how sickly I am. The cocktails of magic suppressants he’s forced on me have drained almost all of my energy, and I don’t have to look at myself to know how harrowed I’ve grown.
How haggard I am. It’s why he glamors me anytime we’re in a public setting.
That and he doesn’t want anyone recognizing you. My conscious notes. The thought’s almost laughable.
The only people outside my own court who’d recognize me would have to be Obsids — or the handful of Vellarans I’d come into contact with. But, given the current militaristic situation over in Vellar, I highly doubt we’d run into anyone.
Which leaves only one other reason he’s Wielding on me – power.
And as if he’s reading my mind, I feel the nauseating sensation of his magic cloaking my skin. Glancing down, I watch as the Wield takes hold. My serpents disappear, my skin tone changes hue, and I can feel the ends of my hair brushing just under my chin.
“Let’s go.” He grunts, tugging on my wrist.
SQUEEAAKKKKK!
The hinges do us no favors as they screech loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. “Subtle,” I murmur, my feet following reluctantly out the door after him.
Briefly, I think about what could happen if I tore my wrist out of his grasp, slammed the door, and locked it behind him.
I’ve mapped out pushing him out that window half a dozen times – I’m sure I could jump.
But he’s too aware. He’d know my plan as well as I would, and by the time I’d take the jump, he’d already be at the bottom waiting.
Besides, just escaping wouldn't be enough satisfaction for me. No, he deserves to suffer as much as I have. He deserves to feel the same as I do. To face those two roads without the choice of going down the one he wants.
Death will be merciful – and I am anything but merciful.
He brought us to a brothel.
A bloody fucking brothel.
The place is packed full of sad, pathetic, and sweaty patrons. Looking at the clientele, I feel sorry for the men and women who have to cater to them.
However, I feel the most sorry for myself.
I’ve been stuck inside a dark corner booth and forced to watch Ezra disappear and reappear every so often in the crowd.
And each time he shows back up, his face looks more deranged and desperate.
Good. I think to myself, my arms crossing tightly across my chest. I hope he’s struggling with whatever he saw fit to drag me out here for.
He could’ve saved himself the energy of using his Wield if he’d just kept me at the inn. But his insecurity clearly got the best of him, because here I am, with a front row seat to Ezra scurrying around like a cockroach caught in daylight.
You could just leave. Run. My conscience suggests. That would fall under the same group as escaping. We agreed that wasn’t enough. I reply.
“Explain to me why you haven’t gotten up yet? Screamed for help even? You’re prideful, E – but not that prideful.”
Axel’s voice has me jumping in my seat. Slowly, my head turns to see the bastard grinning at me from across the booth, his brown eyes glinting in the dim light.
“What… the… fuc– H-how the hell are you–”
He lifts his calloused hand, that grin closing into a smirk. “I’ll stop your stammering there. You needed me, and so poof,” he waggles his fingers around, “I appear.”
“Oh-kay… that answered nothing. I’m not asleep right now.”
“You are drugged, though.” Axel shrugs, leaning forward to take in the place. “Where’d he go?”
I roll my eyes and slump back into my seat. “I don’t bloody know. He camped me in this booth, demanded I stay put, and–”
“And you listened?” My bottom lip rolls between my teeth, ignoring the question, because the only answer I can give him is the same one I’ve been giving myself. I can’t leave without his head coming with me. And I can’t do that without these fucking shackles off and tonics gone.
I scratch at the faded rune on my wrist. “Can they see you talking to yourself?”
I shake my head back and forth, replying, “no. He’s got me pretty well concealed.”
His eyes widen, “you’re telling me he’s influencing this entire room?”
“Mmhmm.”
“How did he manage it?” He asks, a hand moving back behind his head, exhaling loudly.
I snort, “he’s a lucky fucking bastard.”
My fingernails give a little, and I look down to see the skin broken over the rune, a small bead of blood bubbling up.
–
“Did you – did you do that to yourself?”
I point to the door, “out.”
“Eveera, did you do that to yourself?” He asks again, harsher this time the tone of his voice dropping an octave.
–
The memory hits me so quickly, I have to suck in a breath just to return to my bleak reality. My gods, he was out of the room so fast I could barely keep up, and the way that he so effortlessly Wielded, forcing all of our men out of their rooms to face him.
Fucking overbearing man. I half expect him to barge into my head with some stupid comment about how he was “protecting me when my own guards should have already been doing that.” And I would’ve argued that it wasn’t his place.
Axel’s fingers tap rhythmically on the wood, breaking my cycle of thought.
I give him an apologetic smile, “Ax.” His eyebrows lift, and he hums in question, “thank you.”
Confusion lines his brow, “for…?”
I reach my fingers across the table, extending them out until they reach his. “For protecting me.” His eyes go glassy, and the two of us stay there in that moment, the noise of the brothel dying down until–
“Did you hear what’s been happening in Sorrel? Whole buildings full of people – dead.”
The voices of passing patrons gain our full attention, the group of them walking by us while none the wiser to our presence. Dead? I think. Buildings full?
I shake my head, “did you catch that–” I start, but his lips thin, and his chin jerks to the left.
“Heads up.” He says. I follow his gaze to see what he means and am met with Ezra’s scowling mug.
I push my lip out into an exaggerated pout. “Oh, someone doesn’t look too happy.” I quip, hopping down from the booth. “Didn’t get what you want? How disappointing. Can we leave this fucking brothel now?”
“Stop it, Eveera.” He bites, a tired hand scrubbing down his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, can we leave this fucking brothel now, please?” My tone is more saccharine than sweet, and he knows it.
Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he grabs hold of me by the crook of my elbow, ushering us through the crowd. Much to my shock, he doesn’t lead us out the doors, but instead to a back stairwell, yanking me up the steps after him.
“I said I wanted to leave, not become a full-time harlot.”
“Will you just be quiet?” Ezra snaps.
Once we’re at the top of the stairs, he jerks his free hand around in his breast pocket, digging for what I can only assume is the key to the door we’re camped in front of. He finally finds it and pushes me inside the gaudy red velvet room.
I lift my hands to my chest and hold them there, careful not to touch too much. “This isn’t sanitary.” I grimace, looking at the well-used bedding.
“Just lay down and go to sleep.” He snaps again, his eye glued to the peephole.
“Let me guess – this is you somehow protecting me?” I mock, searching the room for a towel to lay on top of the comforter. Ezra waves me off, fusing his eye to the peephole. “I feel so safe here.”
These fucking overbearing men.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Gods.” Ezra hisses, his forehead knocking against the wall with a loud, THUNK! I can’t help the low rueful laugh that rattles through my chest, and gives me a dark look, blatantly displeased.
Good.
“What are you laughing at?”
“No-nothing,” I say through the fit. “Just you – ha. You made us come here. Made a new prison cell for me out of a pleasure room. And now you’re all unsettled because the people next door are fucking? In a brothel?”
He scoffs, “and… this is funny? My discomfort?”
“Oh, I couldn’t give a damn about your discomfort. See, we–” I wag my finger between the two of us, and I watch as his eyes go from blue to navy, “have that in common. So, yes, it’s hilarious watching how a couple of grunts and groans are making you so miserable.”
Ezra focuses back on the wall, the cacophony of noises somehow growing louder. If I squint my eyes enough, I can see the beads of sweat forming on his neck, the pale skin turning bright red.
A satisfied smirk twitches at the corner of my mouth as my eyes fall closed, and a semi-relaxed sigh leaves my lips.
“Unbelievable,” Ezra grumbles, and I crack a lid open, peering in his direction. “You’re actually able to fall asleep with this going on?”
“By this, you mean am I about to drift off to the sounds of someone moaning? Sure.” I shrug, closing my eyes again. “I did it plenty of times when you were the one making the same noises. At least now it doesn’t involve me putting in any work.”
I don’t stay awake long enough to hear his reply, if he even had one, but I was pleased enough with his silence. In fact, I would’ve enjoyed more of it.
But much to my irritation, morning came too quickly, and my wakeup call included an arm nearly being ripped out of its socket.
Ezra pulls me up off the bed and rushes the two of us out of our room.
While we were tripping down the stairs – the crust of sleep still in my eyes – I suggested that we should stay.
That I’d grown comfortable with my new accommodations.
He didn’t find that idea to be as funny as I did.
The brothel was completely silent at this time of morning. All of its workers and patrons were most likely exhausted from their antics the night before, making it an easy exit for us.
Once out of the building, it didn’t take long for us to notice that even though that establishment was quiet, the city was not, and even at this hour, the streets were packed.
Dozens of people shove and push past one another, while others wait in long lines for their turn at the merchant’s street tables.
Our markets aren’t nearly this busy in Oriya, but then again, we’re also not as densely populated.
We prefer distance and space.
Something this kingdom clearly knows nothing about.
Ezra keeps a firm grip on my elbow as he weaves us through the streets.
The touch sets my skin on fire, and I try to peel his fingers off, but he doesn’t relent.
I resort to shouting; the sound of the bazaar is deafening to the point that even though I’m shouting at him to let go, no one can seem to hear me.
No one seems to take notice that I’m struggling to be free of him; they’re all too preoccupied in the bustle of the morning – Ezra included.
He keeps our pace brisk as we make it out of the fray, and the inn he has us holed up in comes into view, bringing us directly to the back entrance.
We’re halfway to the stairs when I overhear a conversation similar to the one I’d heard last night. “There are whispers that what happened in Sorrel is going to happen here, too.”
“Oh, what makes you think that, Mevis?” I crane my neck to find two older men, huddled in the corner of the front sitting room.
The shorter gentleman shrugs. “Just something I heard, Colm. But let me tell you what I won’t wait around for – someone to come and kill me. Uh-uh. It was apparently an inn just like this one, too.”
“All I heard is that whatever killed them was brutal, eyes were bloodshot and the veins under their skin – burst!”
“What would cause that?”
“The only time I’ve known something like that to happen was during the raids – a result of the poison some rebels used.”
Ezra stops dead in his tracks, and I slam into his back. Colm’s last word ringing in my ears -- poison. A cruel smile inches up my face
Rorin.