Throughout the rest of that week, Neymar and Abel’s relationship developed into a constant competition.

Abel dusted Neymar’s doormat, only for him to deliberately muddy it up an hour later. Abel accompanied the cook to market, brought back special fruit, and left it on Neymar’s plate for dinner. Neymar gave it to Madam Fenharrow while daring to look Abel in the eye the entire time.

Abel didn’t mind. He knew Neymar to be the kind of guy who was accustomed to getting his way, who often would drive away people with a mere sneer simply because he was larger and buffer than those around him. Now that Abel was challenging such a power, pettiness came out, hoping to chip away at Abel’s resolve to get him to back down, for as much as Neymar peacocked his physical prowess, he had never actually proven he could commit to it.

And so Abel persisted.

Abel sought out and brought tools to Neymar’s bedroom for his sink, advising him to stash away a wrench from the set to have on hand at any moment.

The implication that Neymar would steal did not bode well with him.

“Are you serious?” Even the question felt more like a threat. Abel pretended not to notice.

“I assumed you wouldn’t mind, given your reputation.“ At Neymar’s cocked eyebrow “Dmitri told me how Madam Fenharrow found you.”

“That little..” Neymar grunted in annoyance. Abel suddenly disliked Neymar very much and couldn’t explain why.

“Let me make it clear. I’m not interested in whatever schemes you’re trying to pull.” Neymar stood at his full height in front of Abel. Great. More peacocking.

“Touch a damn thing from the Fenharrows and you’re dead.” He swore, and ended the conversation by slamming the door in Abel’s face.

Which left Abel with plenty of newfound extra time to imagine all the ways he could strangle Neymar.

And truly, the only thing stopping Abel was a little pulse of fear. A lingering reminder in the back of his head that he may not yet untethered from the Commander.

Once he let his impulses go, would he be able to regain control again? Could he stop himself?

—

Dmitri’s time in the Capital was coming to a close.

The day Dmitri was set to leave, Captain Ciella Najem appeared at their breakfast table and admonished Dmitri for delaying his departure, clearly eyeing Abel as the one responsible for such a decision.

Before Abel could react to it, Dmitri waved for his attention with the flourish of an envelope in his hands.

“Fear not for idleness while I’m gone, Abel. I’ve got confirmation that you have been placed in one of our city’s secondary schools right here.” Dmitri ceremoniously tore the paper open and unfurled the contents within. It was a short letter, no more than a page.

But that short letter was enough to freeze Dmitri in his place.

“This can’t be right.”

“What is it?” Abel’s fist clenched, adrenaline preemptively rushing through him.

Dmitri rubbed the bridge of his nose, twisting his round glasses askew. “You’ve been assigned to the Metalworks’ Collegiate Academy.” Dmitri spoke with a gravity to his voice that Abel hadn’t heard in a while. “What were they thinking…?”

“That’s in the Altiman Quarter.” Neymar piped up. Abel could swear he heard concern in Neymar’s tone and felt a faint bit of satisfaction. But wait, focus.

“I assume people from the Altiman nation live in the Altiman Quarter?” Abel could already anticipate the trouble he could find himself in if an entire section of the city was dedicated to housing the mage-less tribe, moreso the mage-less tribe whose kin had stolen him from his home and enslaved him seemingly without remorse.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

“The district is a designated part of the city that, according to the Empire, doesn’t exist. It’s walled off, with a single security checkpoint to get in or out. It has its own police, its own laws, everything. Most Capital residents don’t even know what goes on within or how many people really live there.” Reyna explained, an uncharacteristic frown twisting her features. “It was the only way the citizens of the Empire could agree to housing all the Altiman folk who fled their countries after war broke out. Several early spy and terror scares made the people here skittish.”

“It’s practically slums. Folks warn their children to stay away from the walls just in case a riot breaks out.” Neymar clarified, folding his arms. “It’s needlessly dangerous to go anywhere near there.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Abel was silent for a long while, turning over the situation in his mind. He should have known the Empire would try every tactic in the book. They were placing him in an environment uniquely bred by the war, to both meet the demands of the promise they gave him and to prompt him to ask more of them. They expected him to be dissatisfied with this option. They expected him to ask more from them, which meant they would have leverage to extract more information from him.

Information that would certainly put his family back at the Citadel in the firing line.

Well, better not play into their hand. A school’s a school.

“I’ll go.” Abel announced.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Neymar was the first to speak up. Dmitri wasn’t even listening, trying to dissect all the alternatives they could propose to the courts.

“He could go to the Grand Library Secondary School. It’s right across the river road, and makes so much more sense than trekking halfway across the city, through a checkpoint, just to go to school— they can’t do this to him—“

“Dmitri.” Reyna cautioned.

“I can talk to the officers in charge of his case—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going.” Abel reiterated. “I want to, and this school is a proper school. You need to return to your duties anyway.”

And return to them Dmitri did, much to his own objection. Once he accepted Abel was far more stubborn than him, Dmitri departed with Ciella by carriage, disappearing into the twists and turns of the labyrinth city.

—

Neymar was waiting for Abel at his room door when Abel finally left his vigil at the front door of the inn.

“I know you’re hiding something.” Neymar snapped at Abel the moment he appeared in sight. “You’ve been trying to get me on your side this entire week, and now decide to dive into some masochistic mission just to go to school. You’re playing some game.”

Abel coughed the saliva he choked on in surprise, using the time to press down the doubts that rushed into his mind. There was no way Neymar would suspect he knew more about the Citadel. He likely didn’t know it existed to begin with.

“Why would I be playing a game? I was just pulled out of a warzone. I’m not exactly trying to crawl back to it. If this is what I’m given to start a new life, I’ll take it and make the most of it.” Abel reasoned, putting on an easy smile. “You don’t have to join me at the academy, by the way. I’m sure it’s not your first pick.”

“Like hell it's yours either!” Neymar fumed. His anger was unexpected. For some reason, it made Abel feel better.

“I’m sorry I upset you.” Abel mumbled. “I can cut us fruits in the downstairs kitchen—“

“Stop. Just stop.” Neymar lifted a tense hand, closing the distance between them. “Aren’t you at least a little mad? How can you be this calm when you’ve only been here for what— a few days? Before then, the Empire sent people after you. We tried to murder you. And still—” Neymar grabbed Abel by the shirt collar, shaking him. Abel didn’t fight him. “Still you break bread with us. You go to the market. You think about us—“

Abel placed a warning hand over Neymar’s. Control yourself. Keep it together. Abel needed space, but he wasn’t letting go.

“How can you sleep soundly, keep it together, after all that shit when I—“ Neymar bowed his head, shaking against the emotion welling within him. Rock crystals were growing along the backs of his hands, rough to the touch.

“—I still have nightmares of a goddamn river I’ve never been in?”

Ah. Abel finally understood, and felt sorry for him.

“Sounds like you think about that river more than you think about your own parents.” Abel observed.

And that's when Neymar threw the first punch.

The full force of solid stone smashed into Abel’s cheek, leaving it raw and bruised.

Abel stumbled a few steps, his hands immediately raising in a defensive stance for the next blow.

Surely Neymar knew what would happen if he started a fight with Abel. He knew what Abel was capable of, the blood that had once strained his hands, the bodies he left behind.

And yet he fought anyway.

And that only made Abel pity him more.

Neymar surged forward, attempting to grab him by the neck. Abel parried his grapple and twisted around behind him. Neymar swung wildly as he spun, smashing a fist into Abel’s shoulder. Abel staggered and moved to create distance.

“Of course I have nightmares. Of course I look around me and sometimes all I see are a den of monsters.” Abel ducked as Neymar swung wildly for his face again, then launched a sharp jab to Neymar’s chest, a warning to stay away. Neymar grunted in pain, but remained firm, shoving him back. It seemed the hit only fueled his rage.

“I’ve thought about ways to escape, what I would have to do if I was suddenly a target again.” Abel lifted his arm to block an incoming kick, taking the force of the blow.

“But here’s the thing. I’ve already met my enemy and survived.” Now Abel surged forward and grabbed onto Neymar’s fully formed stone claws, wrestling with him to keep him at bay. He thought about when he saw Neymar for the first time. He thought about the night with the broken sink, and how Neymar’s powers alight at the slightest bit of tension—

“Does your fear rise when you even look at running water? Are you so much of a coward as to tremble before something without a mind of its own? It will not change for you.” Abel demanded, wincing through the pain of stone crushing his knuckles.

“Shut up!” Neymar slammed Abel against the wall. Abel took it, smiling.

“You’ve survived where others have not. Do you think so little of your own life that all that was meant for it was anguish? Don’t you deserve to enjoy it, even if it was by some mistake that you’re not dead too? Are you married to pain?”

Neymar let out a yell and gut-checked Abel, then slammed his bruised shoulder into the wall again. Clearly Neymar wanted Abel to marry pain instead.

Maybe pain was polyamorous.

And feeling a bit spiteful of the sudden relationship thrust upon him, Abel flung it right back at Neymar with a headbutt right into the rock crystal formations along his forehead. The force sent them both reeling, collapsing to the ground.

Abel was the first to shuffle and lift himself by his arms, blinking back stars at the corners of his vision.

“Urrgh… If you’re looking for someone to punish you because you feel shitty about yourself, look elsewhere.”Abel grimaced as he struggled to turn over. “I’m nobody’s villain. I’m tired of fighting. I’m not going to do it anymore.”

He wondered how ridiculous they looked, two bruised boys writhing on the now-bloodstained hallway carpet.

Neymar grabbed Abel by the shirt, dragging his body closer to scowl in his face. But the scowl soon faded and his grip released. A softness replaced his eyes. “You’re a fool to think that, but fine,” was all he said.

It was as close to an apology as Abel could fathom Neymar was capable of making.

“What’s going on here?” A voice startled them both. Neymar forced himself upright at the speed of light.

Down the hall, Reyna Fenharrow stood with her arms folded. Her expression seemed to take on a cast of shadow, now that she was absent of Dmitri’s presence.

Suddenly, Abel recalled Neymar’s words from a few nights before, and realized it might’ve been a caution.

Don’t presume that you know the Fenharrows.