King Hall (9 page)

King Kincaid’s dark orbs met mine, and he nodded once. “Yes, it is that easy when I’m King.” His smile was feral. “You’ll figure that out soon enough.” He stepped back, making room for the others.

King Venclaire gave me a warm hug but, since he already knew Antonio, he didn’t take long in the line. The two mates in the Kings’ group came next. The Prodigies after them.

Pearl gave me a bruising hug before Gideon wrapped me in his arms. It was a small blessing to see Pearl alive and well. And, my God, could she go on endlessly with Antonio. She truly knew all about him, even referencing a few monumental parts of the war he had apparently starred in, and also wanted time later to speak with him alone. Antonio took it better than I would have.

Jack kissed my cheek and yanked me out of Antonio’s embrace, practically crushing me against his solid chest. “I’m so sorry.” God, he was strong. “I’m just…
so sorry
.” He also surprised me with his level of remorse, since he was so nervous about mates.

Returning his hug, it felt as if I comforted him instead of the other way around, my voice mild. “Thank you.” The same answer I gave everyone.

Antonio gently, but firmly, pried me away from Jack’s embrace and greeted him.

I watched them but, after a few moments, I felt physical heat on my right side.

Ezra was there, staring quietly at Antonio. He didn’t wear the impressed mien the rest did. Instead, his expression was more of stunned wariness. Neither did he give his condolences. Instead, he dipped to my level, asking quietly, “How do you know him?”

“Um…” Trying to think of the safest answer, I decided on the truth. “He helped raise me. I’ve always known him.” Just not exactly
who
he was.

Ezra stayed lowered at my side. “Curious.”

“Is it?” I turned to look at him better. He was acting peculiar.

Ezra shrugged, his nose crinkling a bit as he eyed Antonio, his spikes all sorts of crazy today, using more gel than normal. King Venclaire shot him a stern glance for seemingly taking too long, even though Jack was just finishing with Antonio.

Ezra snorted quietly, but pulled me in for a tight, but gentle, embrace.

Lifting on my tiptoes, I returned his hug.

He whispered quietly against my ear, “Welcome to Ruler’s purgatory. It’s the special club you love to hate.”

I actually
snickered
against his shoulder, appreciating that he wasn’t going to give me any generic line of comfort. That wasn’t what I needed right now. “Maybe I’ll actually kick your butt on the mats now.”

He chuckled quietly, leaning his head back with a black eyebrow cocked. “Never
ever
going to happen, but if that’s what it takes to make you feel all mushy at night, you can keep on fantasizing.” He was trying to lighten the mood. Much appreciated.

I merely rolled my eyes.

He gave me another quick squeeze before moving to stand in front of Antonio. Both of their heads were slightly cocked, and they studied one another. Ezra still looked slightly wary, but also thoughtful. Antonio appeared a smidge irritated, and amused, all at once.

Antonio was the first to break their silence, holding out his hand. “Antonio Farrar. Elder. It’s a pleasure to properly meet the elusive Ezra Zeller.”

Ezra’s lips twitched, shaking Antonio’s hand.

My thoughts wondered what the hell that was all about, especially when their handshake extended far too long and both of their eyes started glowing, their powers whispering in the air.

King Venclaire had already stepped forward at their greeting, but now he stood directly at Ezra’s back, hovering. More than a little protective. It appeared Antonio was respected, and feared, by all. Good to know.

“Yes,” Ezra purred, his eyebrow cocking, even though their knuckles were turning white and their eyes were glowing fiercely. “It’s a treat to officially meet you, Elder Farrar.”

Silence enveloped our group as they continued this.

Ultimately, I elbowed Antonio softly in his ribs, muttering, “You done yet?”

Antonio’s smile was wicked as he released Ezra’s hand, the flare of his golden eyes steadily quieting to normal and, gently, so did Ezra’s. Antonio asked softly, “You’re very good, but are you good enough?”

Ezra only stared back, unflinching in his silent regard, even while King Venclaire pulled him back to stand beside the others.

“Let’s see now,” Antonio muttered, breaking the hush and peering at King Kincaid as he swung his arm back over my shoulders. “Do you have another room here I can use? I’d like to stay close to Lil,” a squeeze of my shoulder, “just in case she decides she likes trees more than politics.”

My eyes closed, and remained that way. Of course he would stay around to make sure I didn’t run off again. I whispered quietly, “I hate you.” Sighing softly, I opened my eyes to see King Venclaire and Ezra watching closely, definitely having heard my comment.

Antonio chuckled, even as King Kincaid and Fi practically fell over themselves making sure they had a room available, and he whispered back, “I love you, too, Lil.”

I crossed my arms, knowing I would be watched like a mutant, diseased cockroach.

Antonio squeezed me even tighter as King Kincaid told him they had a room close to mine he could have for as
long
as he wanted.

Perfect Hell.

Antonio sniggered again, giving me a brief, two-armed bear hug before releasing me, his golden eyes steadfast on mine. “I need to pick up clothes and such.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys, handing them to me. “You need a car, since yours was taken.” I stared at the Hummer’s keys, not even knowing my truck had been stolen, and he mumbled with a sigh, “You’re welcome.” Hands back in his pockets, he clarified, “I’ll be back before nightfall.”

I glared.

His eyes crinkled in mirth, but I abruptly stood stunned. One minute he was there, the next, he was just gone. No glowing skin. No flaring eyes. Only,
poof!
Not there anymore.

Into silence, Ezra mumbled, “He raised you? One of the harshest, most vicious heroes in Mys history?”

I nodded dumbly, staring where he used to be.

“And you still can’t fight?”

“Shut up.”

He shrugged. “Just saying I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

My middle finger made an appearance.

“
Get up
,” Ezra snarled, scowling at where I lay flat on the mat, frustration hardening the unforgiving lines of his features even further. “I said go left, not right! You need to listen!”

Two and a half months ago, when Ezra had said he had his work cut out for him, well, he had hit the nail on the head, and my little one-finger salute had only egged him on, not helped the situation. He didn’t like being argued with. He didn’t like anyone telling him no. He didn’t like being told what to do. Or, apparently, being flipped off — I should have figured that out the first day I had met him, but no, I was an idiot — since he had laid into me from that day forward.

Even more so now than before.

These new, unimproved, extra morning sparring sessions were followed directly by meetings — right before school — with the Kings and the other Prodigies, since we were at a “Level 5” threat worldwide, compared with previously being at a “Level 10” after Dominic died. An example of peaceful times would be the day before his death. We had been at a “Level 1” then.

That had shown just how complacent the Mys community had become: we had not been clued-up with the intel that a Prodigy was being targeted, much less, all of the Prodigies by the Coms. Our intelligence agency had taken a major hit, to say the least. Only thirty-five percent of those employees still had their jobs within the MSA (Mystical Shield Agency), owed mainly to King Kincaid’s fury. The new, and fresh, sixty-five percent were all hardcore, dedicated to the dangers we now lived in.

Pushing onto my side, I glared. “No. You said right, then left!” Sucking in a harsh breath, I realized Ezra had badly bruised my left shoulder blade. Letting my head fall, I bit my lip and blinked tears away. He was so strong. Not to mention, he was so fast I could barely track him.

He growled, stalking me in a circle as I pushed onto my hands and knees. “No. I didn’t. Pay attention!” He squatted, glowering into my blinking, glistening eyes. “And there’s no damn crying when you spar with me. Learn. Get better. But don’t you dare cry.”

I closed my eyes. Some days it was so hard to even get out of bed, and when I did make it, the mornings still dark outside it was so early, I had to deal with this. My life. Purgatory had been an apt description by my current tyrant.

At least I was feeling regular emotions again.

“Leave her alone,” Pearl muttered from her perch on a soft, cushioned chair. Lucky her. Both she and Jack came over early daily to watch the morning sparring held in King Kincaid’s exercise room, since we had to meet in a half-hour anyway. “And your directions weren’t very clear.”

He grabbed my bicep. Yanked me to my feet. The force almost made me fall. “Again.” Grinding his teeth, he ordered harshly, “And this time, left, duck, right.”

“Fine,” I grumbled tersely, gingerly rolling my aching shoulder, but stayed on the balls of my feet, knowing he would be coming without notice.

I was right. He came at me, and I punched left. Ducked his roundhouse kick. Punched right. Then, he pulled an Ezra move, swiping my feet out from under me when I thought we were done. I grunted as my back hit the mat, and quickly rolled, escaping the foot he slammed down where I had been a second ago, but missing his elbow that hammered against my stomach as he dropped. In these last three months, if I wasn’t Mys, he would have killed me.

I gasped, punching blindly through the hurt.

He merely grabbed my wrists, smashing them above my head. Nose-to-nose with me, he whispered harshly, “Not good enough! An experienced Com could take you down. Even with your strength.”

Trying to catch my breath, a scowl was all I could manage.

He pushed himself up, stalking across the mats, muttering under his breath.

There were days I could run far,
far
away, never to see any of these people again.

“Don’t even think about it,” Antonio groused, eyeing my expression as he stood from the couch where he and King Venclaire had been diligently watching — they always observed our sparring — and privately talking. He was dressed simply in a pair of black cargos, grey t-shirt, no shoes.

I wished I was wearing that much. Instead, Antonio demanded we wear what King Hall had determined as the best attire. Not enough clothing, even if it improved maneuverability.

Me: black sports bra and tiny, black cotton shorts.

Ezra: soft, loose-fitting, black cotton capris.

Moreover, to add to my never-ending misery, it was freezing down here in the basement where the exercise room was located.

Antonio started toward me, and I quickly rolled, pushing to my feet. Whenever he became physically involved in my training the hurt always doubled. Strolling easily, he snapped his fingers at Ezra and crooked a finger, but the obstinate Vampire just stared, not coming as bid. Antonio sighed heavily, muttering, “Ezra, get over here. I don’t have time for your attitude today, and her,” an agitated jerk of his hand, “flight risk.”

Ezra only planted his feet further.

“You know, I want a different teacher,” I panted, still breathless, but my conviction was there. “We don’t work well together. All he does is yell. All I do is hit the mat. Find me someone else.” I crossed my arms, wanting a teacher who wasn’t such a drill sergeant. More importantly, someone who believed I could do this, and Ezra certainly didn’t.

Ezra spoke then, crossing his own much larger arms. “You won’t find anyone better than me. Not Shifter. Not Vampire. Not Mage. Not Elemental.” He smiled. It wasn’t nice. “I’m the best here, sweetheart.”

Glaring at Antonio, I ground out, “Find me someone else.”

Startlingly, I actually liked Ezra outside of the mat, especially when he had quit bringing up my Com slang. Rude, crude, and blunt he may be, but remarkably, I got along with him just the way he was when my back wasn’t being slammed against a mat repeatedly. Just like I got along with Jack and Pearl. All three of them had been wonderful and supportive since Dominic’s death; all of us were frequently together because of the elevated threat level. I was beginning to consider them friends, but if Ezra and I kept this up much longer, it was a real possibility I would begin to hate him. Politically, it wasn’t wise to continue risking our future civil relationship.

Ezra opened his piehole, ill-mannered thoughts written all over his features. “I’m the only man foolish enough to even
try
to train you—”

“Both of you, shut up,” Antonio barked loudly, harshly.

We did.

Antonio hardly ever raised his voice, but when he did, it was prudent to at least contemplate obeying.

“Ezra, get over here.” He paused, shoulders rising and falling, and added, “Please.” When Ezra nodded at the more polite request, his feet moving in our direction, Antonio turned his frustration on me. “He’s right. He is the best fighter here. You’re stuck with him, kiddo.”

My lips thinned, but I didn’t argue further, not right there.

Antonio pointed. “Ezra, stand directly behind her.” Ezra moved behind me, which elicited a flinch on my part. Having him there usually meant pain on the mat. Antonio rolled his eyes, griping, “I said
directly
behind her.” He reached over me and grabbed Ezra’s shoulder, jerking him forward. Ezra banged against my back, and I almost fell. Antonio nodded absently, dropping his hand, and muttered, “There. That’s about right.”

About right?
Ezra was flush against me. I could feel his chest rising and falling against the back of my head; his body and mine were so close we could have been glued together.

Ezra’s chest vibrated my head as he asked, “Now what?”

“I have no chance getting away from him starting like this.” I tipped my head back, glaring at Antonio. This was going to hurt even more. “I tell you I want a different instructor, and instead, you make the beat down that much easier?”