The Midnight Storm (A New Dawn #2)

Chapter 25 - Nick

When he was little, and he and his brother had been throwing punches until at least one of them had a black eye they would feel for a moon, Mother would first smack him in the head, then look at him with a devastated look on her face. How could a boy so calm and clever as he turn into the playing ball of the God of Wrath? This wasn't how she had raised him. He should have known better. Back then, he had hidden his hands in his pockets and promised his mother to try to defy Him. Now he was older and wiser and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Of course his behaviour was wrong. Of course it was a pointless sin. Jerking the Queen's comforting touch off his arms wouldn't unsink the Acedia's Revenge. Shooting up from his seat, screaming the lungs out of his body as he lunged towards Seb's voice wouldn't save Alex. Nor would driving his elbow into the King's chin bring Billy back to his box of straw and hay, waiting for him to bring him apples and tell him stories. Still, he allowed the madness to take over.

Because when Wrath attacked, he became a God.

The King didn't call a guard to do the dirty work. Though blind, Nick could tell. The agility with which one strong, muscular arm wrapped around his neck and a dagger's blunt handle poked him in the back meant King Thomas had seized him.

As another arm curled around his chest, he wriggled and writhed and clawed at all he could reach. The King hooked his legs behind his. Kicking and squirming, Nick wobbled. He had no answer when the King's body slumped onto his and he was pushed to the floor. The King landed on top of him, with a big thump that ended in a softer thud. 

He lay sprawled, his muscles yearning to unleash the God's renewed strength. The stacked-up energy from wasting half a moon in the hole his chamber had become burst forth in the form of coiling fits that slammed all in their vicinity. Fragments cut his knuckles open—sharp like porcelain, not biscuit crumbs.

"Don't let your uncle fight your battles!" he yelled out to Seb. "You killed Billy and Alex. It's their blood on your hands. Fight me!"

He got pulled back as Seb murmured, "No, you're wrong. They're alive. They have to be."

"You're an even bigger fool than I thought, you Muttonhead. Sinking ships suck everything and everyone down to the bottom of the sea. You can't escape the force of a maelstrom."

"No, they got out. They must have. They're not dead, Nick. You must have faith. It's Alex, our friend Alex."

"And my Billy." He made an attempt to lunge forwards.  A lousy attempt—King Thomas grabbed his waist and held him tighter. "You killed them. You're a murderer, Seb! Why can't you die?"

"I'm not! I didn't want her to leave." The squeak that came from the other side of the room revealed Seb's sobbing. "I didn't... I never... you..."

The snivelling moved closer, as did the quickening of footsteps.

"Run, Seb," Nick scoffed. "Run.I've heard that's what you do best—runaway good-for-nothing Prince Sebastian. And stay away from me forever."

"Oh, go to The Seven Hells!" Seb screamed. He banged the door shut so loudly the floor shook.

"I'm already there," Nick said under his breath.

Silence settled for less than a heartbeat. Then, the women started talking, arguing even, their quibbling as useless as his writhing. King Thomas was holding him tight—he had nowhere to go. If the God of Wrath wasn't still raging inside of him, he would chuckle. Better to laugh than to cry, especially when there were no more tear canals left to let the misery through.

"You shouldn't blame Seb," the King finally said. "It's not his fault. Blame me. Fight me if you want, but not him."

 Nick wasn't sure he heard that right. "I can fight you?"