Chapter 1.34: I am your commander

The two walked from the wet garden into the estate. They were dripping wet, and Leila grimaced. She knew the head maid would raise hell from the mud trail they left. But she didn't want to risk using a command on Ezekiel out in the open like this. After the man had gotten up, she had told him what he'd be doing. The guard would go clean up and meet her for dinner. They would be eating alone and if anyone asked why, it was for training discussion. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be asleep, so they were able to get in and out rather quickly.

By the time they reached the dining room, their clothes had dried and her heart had slowed. It had been hammering in her chest nonstop since he kneeled. It was disturbing how it made her feel. It brought something out of her she didn't know. Part of her wondered if Cleo's feelings were in control. Whatever relationship the woman had with the blonde was affecting the teenager's choices. With anyone else, she would feel zero remorse for her actions. But since he had a history with Cleo that was largely unknown, she was being extra cautious.

"Take your jacket off and sit down." Her gaze bore into his own as he reacted. The jacket hit the floor, making her cringe and backtrack. "Pick it up and drape it behind your seat, if you will. Thank you."

It was his behavior under her control that bothered her, too. The man acted like a victim of a lobotomy half the time and a Stepford wife the other. She knew that from the book; he was unaware of the fact he was under a spell. But still, she had to wonder if there was some part of his mind that was awake. The implications of that reality kept her up at night and made her really feel like shit. If Ezekiel could be trapped in his mind so easily, anyone could be. Her hands balled into fists as she felt the weight of such power overtake her again. It was suffocating.

She sat down across from him and sighed. "Ezekiel, tell me about things you enjoy. Books, food, hobbies, anything that comes to mind. Tell me, please."

The man looked confused momentarily before blinking and answering. "I liked to cook as a child, so I believe that would count as a hobby." His monotone voice droned in her ears as she sulked.

"What meal do you make often? What's your favorite?" Leila was just trying to make the situation appear more mundane. To have some sense of normality despite the reality of it all. Because inwardly she felt her discomfort with the lack of boundaries her powers created grow the longer they sat in silence.

He blinked before speaking. “I don’t really have one. I cooked whatever was asked of me.” The way he phrased the sentence made her uncomfortable. She could tell the backstory to his cooking skills wasn’t as wholesome as she hoped.

“Who asked you to cook? And why were you the one cooking?” The dark-haired woman asked with hesitance. If his answer was something traumatic, she’d feel like shit for bringing that out of him. But she wanted to know as much as possible about the man since he wasn’t in any of the novels. His existence was an enigma she had to solve.

The man sat across from her, still as a statue. Her ears rang as she gestured for him to speak. This was the first time had ever taken his time to respond. "I was told to cook by my owners as a child. And then by my superiors in the academy due to my natural talent, I suppose. But I'm not too sure, sorry."

Slowly, Leila put her head down and balled her fists together in her lap. She felt her head hurt as she digested the man's words. The idea of Ezekiel being a slave as a child never occurred to her. She was furious, honestly. She wanted to demand the man tell her who his masters were. The anger she felt towards the people who abused him wasn't at the surface level. The dark-haired woman knew that Cleo was influencing her right now. Whatever relationship the two had in the past made her enraged. She was engulfed by the desire to get revenge in bloodshed.

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The heiress also was hit by the realization she had put the man back into the role of slave. He was answering these personal questions only because it compelled him to do so. A part of her wondered in disgust if his past was influencing his willingness. If the memories of being a child slave were affecting him with every command she made, that would be extremely horrifying. Leila debated asking him more about his past enslaved. She wanted to know how a slave met Cleo and befriended her sister. If his past master was still alive as a family friend, she would kill them. She already had blood on her hands and she had no problem adding more.

"Ezekiel, how long were you owned by those people? Did they sell you to work as a soldier?" Leila had to know. Her purple eyes flashed aggressively as she returned to staring directly at him.

Ezekiel looked back at her with mild confusion. He was mulling over her words and how to answer correctly as she fired them off at him. "I was under their control since I was a toddler. I don't know why they bought me, but I know for how long. And they never sold me to be a soldier. I chose to be one."

"Why would you choose that? Wouldn't you be better off going back to your home country?" It was obvious to anyone that the man was a foreigner. His golden skin and matching eyes made it blatant.

"I choose it as your father instructed me to. And by then, my home country changed too much for me to assimilate well. Besides, I barely remember the language and culture, so there was no point." His robotic voice failed to mask his hurt. The memories of the event haunted the man, and he froze up.

Her jaw dropped, and she dug her nails into her palm. So, Cleo's father had some level of control over Ezekiel's autonomy to make him join the academy. A place where loyalty to the royal family and its values are beaten into its students' skulls. The man must have kept Ezekiel around to make him into a soldier after her sister's death. The words of Ezekiel from the day they met added to her suspicions. Cleo's father was using the man, and she figured he had a hand in his enslavement. The retired soldier might even have bought the younger man from whatever noble family owned him.

There was only one way to know for sure. "Did my parents buy you after my sister's death? And did they blame you for what happened to her?" Her volatile emotions were bubbling over as she felt her headache expand into a monstrous migraine.

"Your father purchased me after she passed. I felt like it was my fault, but your parents feel otherwise. So I'm grateful for their charity towards me." Leila jumped up from her seat, knocking it over. The heiress startled him, making the man gawk.

She stalked over to him with her eyes blazing dark violet as she hissed. Her steps echoed aggressively in both of their ears as she stared down at him. All she could think was that she needed to kill both of Cleo's parents. They could have freed Ezekiel. Nobles had that power and so did numerous states. The two mercenaries could have given him a name that he owned and allowed him a sense of humanity. She was so angry knowing that under her nose, the two bastards worked in the slave trade. The same trade that got their daughter killed. Oh, it was sickening, and her head felt like it was about to explode.

Her hand reached down without her awareness to grab his chin. Roughly, she forced the man to look her in the eye as she knelt down. "Ezekiel. From this day onward, you will not feel gratitude towards my father or my mother. You will feel nothing but contempt for the life they robbed from you."

"I will redirect any positive feelings you ever had for them toward me." Leila knew it was risky saying this, but she couldn't make him into a walking ball of misery. He had to feel a loving emotion towards someone in his life. "You won't ever be able to love or care for my parents again."

What she was saying could backfire, but right now, she was too mad to care. She hated that she didn't think that someone willing to kill wouldn't be ready to buy a slave. It made her feel nauseous, knowing that her father was just as cold-hearted as her mother. Both were heartless, thoughtless monsters in her eyes that needed to be dealt with. She would make sure when she burnt this world down, they'd be among the casualties. The mere image of that made her heart blossom with a cruel strike of joy.