“I am fi–ne” The words leave his mouth, and he starts to collapse. I catch his huge body. He is only half awake as I drag him with me. Panic raises. My heart thundering in my ears, chest pounding with every step we make.
“I need a healer!”
Only at the palace entrance do healers come rushing out of their rooms. They lift him off me and drag him toward a chair in the healer’s section. I hurry after the crowd helping him. Someone else rushes down the palace’s huge stairs.
Zephron.
I nod my head, leading him into the direction and he follows without asking a single question. I try to go to talk to him, hold his hand. An old man with grey hair pushes me by my shoulder.
“No visitors at the prince’s treatment,” he explains with a sour face.
I stutter.
“But I am his—”
“He is my brother and she is his duo. Now please let her see my brother,” someone interrupts me. I look over my shoulder to see Zephron walking in. His chin high, chest forward. I nod at him thankfully. My calves burn under me as I kneel in front of him, still only wearing a little top and shorts. A woman in her sixties is fixing his back. He opens his eyes and a smile comes out, as I am kneeling in front of him.
“Hi, Honey.”
I slap him with a flat hand in the face.
I shake my hand as he holds his jaw and widens his eyes as he looks at me.
“You can’t scare me like that again,” I whisper, and a healer next to me gasps. “And you can’t boss me around like I am a little maid or poppet of yours,” I hiss, but only so he could hear.
“I deserved that,” he mocks.
“Yes, you did.”I feel brave for once, but the image of that man flashes through my eyes. I have to ask him.“Did you kill that man because of me?”
His eyes go towards his brother and then back to me. He thinks of his words before telling me them.
“Yes, and because of Hazel.”
My jaw drops.
“Is he the one who killed her?” I whisper so softly I am scared he didn’t hear it.
“Yes, he killed her. That pervert should have died more painfully,” he spits out. And I would swear some people literally stopped moving. The guilt from before washes away a bit, but something else fills me. Fear—panic. My voice is stuck in my throat and sweat breaks out. I would never kill—I could never actually kill someone, I think. It makes me weak. Da says it makes me human, but I am sure people will think otherwise. I have the power to rule or ruin the world and I can’t even kill. I don’t want to and don’t have the heart for it. But that man deserved it, maybe he deserved even more. Braxton lifts up from his chair and turns around.
“How does it look?” he asks, moving his muscles in a tease. All my eyes can do is trace the scars of his past, but I don’t show him.
“Good.” I give him a little pat on the back, before walking out, letting the panic attack wash over me as I hurry outside the door all alone.
To my surprise, Braxton lies down next to me in bed when I open my eyes. My nightmare at night did not wake him, so I am probably no screamer.
I saw her. Hazel’s neck snapping in front of my eyes. The man trying to do things to her. I almost have to puke as I think of the bad dream, so I hurry to the bedroom. I sit down on the toilet and push my hands on my head. I look down at my hips, where the prints of the man’s hands are still visible. I lift off the toilet seat and turn around, pull up my shorts and puke until there is nothing coming out anymore. I wipe my mouth and walk back into our room. The sun shines through the window between the soft curtains. A piece of parchment catches my eyes. I throw the blanket away and tiptoe towards the door. The cold wood cracks under my feet. I open the piece of paper.
The next trial is tomorrow morning.
Please rest and make sure your powers work on full blast.
Be prepared.
