The door swung shut with a quiet, dull thud as Ezek stepped out into the crisp night air, the cool breeze brushing against his flushed face. He let out a long, heavy breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his leather armor. His broad jaw was set tight as he stared out across the sprawling, moonlit gardens of the courtyard.
He felt a deep, dark burn sitting right in the center of his chest, a sharp, irritating knot of pure frustration. He wasn't even angry at Reiner. Gods knew he couldn't be mad at him if he tried. Reiner's terrified, saucer-wide eyes and the frantic, warm weight of his small palms slammed over Ezek's mouth were still burning in Ezek's mind.
No, Ezek was angry at himself. He was a respectable guard, a man trained to keep his composure under the threat of a drawn sword and amid the political traps of the court alike. Yet around Reiner, he felt like a clumsy recruit who couldn't even hold a sword properly.
