Waging War | The Amber Duology #1

33 | Questions with No Answers

Lloyd rested his forehead against the steering wheel of his car, a sigh escaping his lips.

It was the middle of the night, the camps were finally at peace and another exhausting day just passed by under his feet. His car was parked just a few feet away from the edges of camps, a grey mahindra with an open top.

It was his mother's car. A gift for his 16th birthday.

But even if Lloyd knew how to drive, he still preferred his dragon as a mode of transportation. Not only did Ultra cover more miles than this car ever could, the dragon was alive. A being that could also sense his emotions in ways that this vehicle never could.

However, it was the only place he could hide in for now. Or at least, the only place where he could wait for her.

Lloyd brought his head up, running a hand through his face and hair in a harsh manner. If he was being honest, he was exhausted. The physical exhaustion he felt during training was nothing compared to the stress he bore mentally.

He was falling behind on his duties, failing to deliver the General's commands on time, and failing to give his best as an assistant to Kai. Not once in Lloyd's life did he ever quit, did he ever succumb to weakness or an inconvenience.

But with his mind always racing, there wasn't anything he'd give for a good night's sleep.

Even if it was just a few hours.

No matter how long it had been, how many days and hours had passed, he couldn't stop thinking about it. How did I survive the cloud? It was already bad when he survived the first time, but a second was already a sign.

An arrow trying to point him into the right direction. The truth of who he really was.

Lloyd looked at his hands. They seemed...normal.

His palms were covered in lines that often trapped the purple blood of his enemies. They were rough from the amount of times he had a weapon stuck in his grip, his fingers were the same slender build just as before.

There was nothing about him that said he was different or that he was special. There was nothing about him that said he contained powers—he would know otherwise. So why? How did he survive in the first place?

His hands closed into a fist and Lloyd punched the edges of the steering wheel.

A loud beeeeep echoed through the camps.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath as a candlelight flickered in the distance. He hid under his seat, squishing himself to fit into the small gap.

Footsteps approached where his car was parked. Was it his father? A soldier? Had he managed to wake up the whole camp? Please don't be dad. Please don't be dad. He's had enough trouble in his mind already, he didn't need another sermon from his father.

The passenger side opened and a figure came into view. Lloyd held his breath, he wasn't taking any chances. He felt the linings of his pajamas, he always had a weapon close by just in case someone were to attack him while he slept.

When the hilt of a knife touched his fingers, Lloyd immediately wrapped his hand around it. The figure had now sat on the passenger side seat. Just in case, go for the foot. It would be harder for them to escape. With a plan forming in his head, Lloyd readied himself.

He forced himself out of his hiding spot, hand on the armrest in between the seats, and held the edge of the knife to the throat of the hooded figure. "Who are you? And what is your business here?"

Lloyd could see the heavy rise and falls of the person's chest, could feel their hot breath against his cheek. He was close, too close. But the distance was enough for him to get a whiff of a familiar scent of perfume. Expensive. He noted.