The Red King [Book II]

VIII

It was getting late. Chatter was loud in the tavern, lamps lit against heavying clouds, the excitement dulling the rattle of rain and wind on the window. James looked out it, increasingly anxious.

ㅤ'How about we play noughts and crosses this time?' Anna suggested. She picked the tokens from her games pouch. Digging her slim fingers inside, it clattered with wooden dice and other pieces within.

ㅤ'Are yer friends not coming?' he asked.

ㅤ'I told you; they're always late. Dinnae worry about it.'

ㅤSurrounded by rough-looking adults in a town James didn't know well, he felt exposed and vulnerable. He rubbed the feeling off his arm.

ㅤAnna drew a wheel on the parchment between them, completing it with eight intersecting lines inside. She then passed James his three pieces; crosses.

ㅤHe went first, planting a piece in the centre. 'Should we look for them?'

ㅤAnna bit her lip in what James assumed was concentration, even though it was only her first turn. She placed down her nought.

ㅤ'No. There are... quite a lot of human traffickers up 'ere. Best not.'

ㅤJames slowly nodded. He'd made a mistake. If James had been a local, he would've known this. He placed his next piece.

ㅤ'And yer friends won't be caught?'

ㅤ'No.'

ㅤThe game progressed, their table chilly in silence compared to the rowdiness amongst the other clientele. Those sharp barks of laughter above were coarse on the ears when they shouldn't have been.

ㅤIt'd been a lot longer than two hours. His mentor was probably looking for him in the rain.

ㅤThat thought swiftly got pushed aside. It was the old geezer's fault anyway. Perhaps it was these human traffickers that were their targets— but James couldn't know that. His mentor had kept him trapped in a room this whole time.

ㅤJames absentmindedly nudged one of his crosses, his mind threatening to go places it shouldn't. James didn't have a brother; even if the memory antithetically lingered under his fingertips. Each carved piece moved softly, like his hands caressing skin. The sickness that sunk his heart was unwelcome.

ㅤ'Hey,' Anna said, her sweet voice cutting through his thoughts. 'Are you actually from the north?'

ㅤJames' pulse spiked. 'Why d'you ask?'

ㅤShe smiled. 'Yer accent is good, but you cannae change your appearance. Yer skin is too dark.'

ㅤ'Maybe my ma was a southerner.'

ㅤ'Is she?'

ㅤ'She was,' James said, telling the truth.

ㅤ'If yer da was a northerner, it would make sense why yer hair is so light. But, your da is tanned too. I saw him.'