After the Walls

Chapter 1

One of them, a tall, slender man with hooded eyes and patchy facial hair smirks. "You just can't handle that she chose your brother over you, Ruben."

Heat creeps up my neck. "She has done things, terrifying things, your coward ass would quiver at the mere thought. So shut your mouth, mate. You are on dangerous ground."

Aston claps and steps between us, shooting me a tight glare. "Let's just keep Elle out of training discussions. Okay?"

The man lets out a braying laugh. "Trust the two obsessed with Elle Fallon to get their knickers in a twist over some light banter."

Aston rolls his eyes and faces the front. I hold the man's eyes for several more beats before clicking my tongue and turning back.

"Idiots," Aston says under his breath.

"Time to get going, fellas!" the trainer barks, clapping his hands, and spurring us into action.

Aston and I face one another, creating several feet of space between us. He pulls out his sword, grinning with an arrogant glint in his eyes as he spins the hilt, the blade catching in the sunlight.

"Don't worry, archer. I'll go easy on you," he says, chuckling.

I bare my teeth, mocking a laugh. "Cheers, mate."

Taking turns at defence, Aston and I parry with one another. The gardens become a cacophony of grunts and swords and armour clanging together. The stench of body odour lingers in the air. Sweat drips from my temple. When we finally call it quit for the day, I practically barge my way into the showers. Edward built a training warehouse for his soldiers in the rear gardens of the palace. With weapon storage, locker rooms and showers.

As I stand in the shower, letting the scalding water pummel my aching back muscles, I can't help but think of her. I know she must have a good reason for being with him. But she hasn't spoken to me in months, not since the battle beyond the walls. Scarcely cast me a glance. But I know she can see me.

I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth, images of her in the same room as him flashing across my mind.

With a sigh, I grab my towel from the hook, wrap it around my waist and slip out of the cubicle. I dry myself in the locker room, pulling on a pair of loose black pants, and a white shirt. The guys around me cracking jokes and laughing are a mere drone in my ears as I gather my things. Aston waits for me just outside.

"Ready to go home?" he says.

"How about the pub first, and then home?" I say, raising my brows.

He rolls his eyes. "Say no more."

We make our way through the building, about to exit the palace grounds and find a horse and cart to take us across the river. But the trainer, Sandler, materialises from his office, stepping in front of us, cutting us off.

"Ruben. Aston," he says, nodding at us. "Ruben. Can you please meet Edward Mallory in the conference room in the palace? He has called for you."

I can feel Aston's side glance at me as my hands clench and shoulders tighten. "Yes." My voice is clipped. "See you at the pub, Aston."

He gives me a small wave as he hastens out of the building. When he's gone, my heart hammers against my ribs. I feel both too small and too big in his absence.

"I will go to him now, Sandler," I say, nodding to the trainer.

I trudge out of the building and enter the palace through one of the garden doors. My boots squeak against the marble floors and I swear my pulse reverberates against the walls. I focus on my breathing, on navigating my way through the all-too-familiar hallways to the conference room. The air is chilly despite the fires burning in the hundreds of rooms. I suppose there are too many ghosts haunting these halls. My father's being the iciest. I shudder. Sometimes, I swear I can feel him. His judgemental glare. His sharp hand across my cheek and the venom words stabbing my heart. Mighty coward of a man. What kind of man am I?

I can feel eyes staring at me as I make my way through the halls. The wrong brother in the palace. How ironic.

The conference room doors are etched with carvings of animals who existed before the rising seas and the plague. A time well before the walls. I reach for the glossy brass handle when the door shoves open from the other side and she slips out, slamming right into me.

Her red curls smell of coconut. She glances at me and the colour drains from her face. Tightening her jaw, she brushes past me, those grey eyes distant and hollow, pretending I'm not there.

Hurt bruises into anger and I whip around, glaring at the back of her. "How do you do it?" I say through gritted teeth. "How do you pretend you don't love me?"

She flinches but keeps walking away.

I let out a dry laugh. "Of course. Ignore me and keep me in the dark."

As she stalks away, I notice the limp in her step. Her too-thin frame. Cuts on her forearms. I draw in a breath and watch her slip around the corner as every fibre of my being screams at me to chase after her.

Tears prickle my eyes and I blink them away. Curse words crackle on my tongue as I turn and walk into the room with my brother inside.