Short story and title photo by Wanda Sonnemann

He stands next to her, a slender figure compared to the towering queen.
His eyes are dark; I think he doesn’t see me. Her Eyes are pale and keen, as if she can look right through my bones.

She orders him to attack. He draws his gun at me.

“I trust you” I say aloud, partly to convince myself: “I know you would never hurt me.”

Slowly I move towards him, fixing my gaze on his empty eyes. He does not move. I draw him into my arms. He does not resist. I can feel the barrel of the gun against my body.

“Don’t do It” I whisper to him: “Your mind is not hers to rule. Our bond is stronger than her magic.”

There is a glint of something in his eyes. A shiver drifting through his body. A sudden motion.

The shot echoes painfully in the air.

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