She looked up at him, pausing to give him a kiss. *** He was deathly quiet before speaking lowly. "Get out."
The tension left him and he relaxed, his hand resting on her waist. * * * He hesitated before sighing, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
She pulled away, still looking up at him. "I'm not unable to do things, but you can help if you want." *** Ezekiel looked uncertain with what to do, standing there with a slight tremor.
He took the light from her, kneeling down to light the fire. * * * (Zoop!) About three months later, the city had made strides to eliminate the nomad population. At this point, most nomads had either captured or had chosen to flee. The musicians didn't play outside of Ezekiel's balcony anymore.
She rested her hand on his back, watching him adoringly. *** Ezekiel never went out anymore. He had become even more reclusive than before, staying in his room.
After a minute or so, the flame lit up and he stood up, looking over at her affectionately. * * * One morning, there came the sound of servants running through the halls as quickly as they could. Shouting echoed into his room, commotion and panic clearly present.
She offered him a small smile, her expression adoring. *** Ezekiel frowned, opening his door and looking out.
He smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face. “Are you tired?” *** Castle staff were running. One of them noticed that he was looking out and called out. “A prisoner is on the loose in the castle!”
She leaned into his touch. "Eh. Are you?" *** He looked confused, squinting before stepping back into his room with a sigh, going back to the balcony and looking out with a frown.
“Tired of thinking,” he said with a frown. “I don’t want to worry about this anymore.” *** The footsteps faded away before shouting came down the hallway, harsh words and threats. Sprinting footsteps came to his doorway and a figure darted towards him, pulling him into a headlock and pressing a knife to his throat. As he watched, the guards followed her in. The prisoner backed up to the balcony, the knife sharp against his skin.
She pursed her lips thoughtfully before retrieving a blanket and laying it out in front of the fireplace. She sat down, patting the space beside her. *** He seemed surprised, yelping slightly as he tensed and struggled slightly, his hand reaching up to grab her arm.
He gave her a small, shy smile before sitting next to her. *** “I’ll slit his throat,” she barked, pulling back. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll make sure that the last thing I do is kill him, I swear.” The king entered, raising his hands in surrender. “You don’t want to do this,” he said lowly, stepping forward. “You’re not going to do this to him. Remember him? He was your friend.” The knife pressed deeper, bringing blood to the surface. “I will,” she hissed. “He’s no friend of mine.” The arm was bony and thin, but she yanked him back, dropping him from touching her.
She relaxed. "See? Better." *** He whimpered slightly, wincing as he looked up. He recognized that voice. "C-Clara?"
He scooted over and rested his head on her shoulder. “Perhaps.” *** She was unrecognizable. She looked as if she couldn’t weight more than 90 pounds, her face gaunt and angular. Her jawline was badly bruised, dried blood staining her skin and lips. Her golden hair had been shaved off, although it had begun to grow back in curls. There were cuts and scars all along her hands and arms. Her eyes, however, were unmistakable, a frosty grey that stared out at the guards. “I’ll do it,” she growled. “Back off.”
She rested her head over his, her gaze warm. *** He struggled again, feeling the sharp edge of the blade press into his throat as he looked to his father with furrowed brows. "Y-You told me she was dead! You've become worse than they ever have been!"
He closed his eyes, slipping his arm around her waist. “I could just stay here forever.” *** “Shut up,” Clara said harshly, backing up even more. He would feel the stone of the balcony behind his legs. Clara squinted before pushing them both back, falling over the edge.
His eyes were closed and he turned his face into the side of her neck. *** They landed on something soft, but Clara sat up, pulling at Ezekiel’s neck as she stood. They were surrounded by nomads who had stretched out a sheet to cushion their landing. Clara roughly pulled him to his feet before beginning to move. A nomad came up and tied Ezekiel’s hands together before tossing him over his shoulder, carrying him.
She put an arm around him, closing her eyes as well. *** He looked panicked, his eyes wide. "Clara! You're alive!"
He shifted slightly before lying on his back, opening his eyes to look up at her. *** She glanced down at him for a second. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving and she paused before barking at the rest of the Nomads in a foreign language. As a group, they sprinted off, heading towards the woods.
