After the Walls

Chapter 1

RUBEN

I can't even look at her. The wind scrapes its fangs against my forearms, and I shiver, grateful for the grounding distraction. But it does nothing to settle my churning stomach. I try to focus on my breathing. But all I can smell is the body odour of the hundred other soldiers standing in formation around me. Face forward. But all I can see is the newly erected sculpture of my brother in the middle of the palace garden. Bile burns the back of my throat, and I swallow, cringing at the bitter taste and pitiful view.

"He really doesn't look like you," Aston says. His armour clanks as he marches across the front of the crowd of soldiers and positions himself next to me. "It's only the eyes."

I close my eyes, biting back the flurry of curse words. "Yes. We have different mothers. It's not a surprise we are hardly alike."

He's silent for a moment, his bronze hair ruffling in the wind. Then he waggles his brows and smiles. "She's behind us, you know."

My jaw clenches and I take my time responding. "I know, Aston."

"She looks beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful. In case you were wondering." He shrugs and his armour clinks again.

"I know, Aston," I say again through gritted teeth. "But she's chosen to work with Edward. So, I can hardly stand to talk about her. Or look at her. It might help if you could remember what happened. Then maybe you could tell me why she chose him."

His gaze hardens with a spark of annoyance. "We've been over this a hundred times, Ruben. You know she didn't have a choice."

I grind my teeth. "She will find her way back to us. She must."

He claps me gently on the shoulder, squeezing. "She will."

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps me to attention. I look forward and roll my shoulders back. The murmur of the soldiers around me settles. A tall, broad-shouldered man strides before us, spinning the hilt of his knife absentmindedly in his hand as he eyes us all. He has long since lost all his hair and the dark skin on his arms is littered with scars from a lifetime of throwing knives and wielding whips. He was a Tranq during my father's reign.

"Soldiers, thank you for coming today. Your presence and training today will be recognised by Edward Mallory. By being here, you show you are willing to protect Edward Mallory with your life." His voice booms across the courtyard.

I feel Aston stiffen beside me. As I watch the trainer march up and down the positioned soldiers, my mind trails to the cold pint of ale waiting for me this evening. Hopefully several. Enough to drown out a pair of demanding grey eyes.

"We will begin today's session with some sword parrying," the trainer says. His earthy eyes land on me, and he quirks a brow, amusement dancing on his aged face. "Think you can do that, Ruben?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes. For Edward Mallory. Right?" My voice drips with sarcasm.

The trainer chuckles. "You got it, my boy. Now grab your weapon, find a partner, and let's take turns playing the defence. Remember, we live and breathe defending Edward Mallory and Elle Fallon."

I flinch at the use of her name.

There's a rumble of forced agreements. But I catch the odd whispers of discontent.

"She's a traitor."

"Elle Fallon betrayed the president."

"It's her fault we are his military slaves now."

Aston tenses and I clench my fists. I loosen a curse and whirl around, meeting a group of men who look around 25 years old.

"Do not speak of Elle in such a manner," I growl, voice low and laced with authority.