The Red King [Book II]

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Torrential rain heaved on them like it'd been holding its breath. Despite the miserable days; the soldiers, the people, the servants, anyone; they gathered in the courtyard, throwing their arms up and embracing the wet roar.

ㅤSoldiers whooped in delight, gathering in small groups of friends and tackling one another to the wet ground. Laughter braved the harsh hush.

ㅤAlex watched from his bedroom balcony, leaning forward over the balustrade to push himself into the pour, catching it on the tip of his hair and nose. Colour had greyed and darkened, the sickening blue sky hidden.

ㅤIt washed away the tension like it did the dust.

ㅤAlex smiled to himself slightly. Even the haughty Ankaid soldiers didn't glare as they passed him in the corridors; their demeanours were easy and friendly. Alex was still cautious, of course, his ears sharp to their footsteps fading behind, but the mood was soothing.

ㅤNaturally, the office suite was empty except for Alex. Fletcher would've been busy elsewhere, those mercenary dogs following.

ㅤAlex worked through the morning. It wasn't quiet, exactly... the hammering of rain and delighted shouts were a steady commotion. But, inside, it was peaceful. Alex possessed his own space, owning status and command. Even though he had a million things heaped on top of him, he was finally relaxing for the first time in his recent memory. Alone.

ㅤHe even felt amenable to the idea of visiting the canteen as he grew hungry. Exiting into the antechamber, a slither of light snagged his full attention. Across from him, James' normally locked office door was ajar.

ㅤ'James?'

ㅤAlex's quickly approached, knocking, but not waiting for an answer. The door flung open and finally, there was James, hip leaning against his desk, papers in hand.

ㅤ'Ah.' James smiled. 'Alexander.' That smooth low rumble, a conman's enticing promise; at the utterance of his name, Alex lost the ability to breathe.

ㅤAlex took a step forward. 'I've—' Someone cleared their throat and he stopped.

ㅤOff to the side, the guest was blandly looking between them, his hands packed with pages. Ocean eyes and short pale hair with a handsome face, he was a tall man whose height didn't quite reach Alex or James. Something about him was vaguely recognisable but Alex couldn't conjure a name. The said person didn't smile or nod in greeting.

ㅤ'Your Majesty,' Alex belatedly corrected, eyeing the stranger. The look was returned.

ㅤ'Alex, this is Llwyd Straton. Llwyd, this is my duke, Alexander Chamberlain.'

ㅤAlex faltered. Llwyd. This was who Riley had spent years searching for, desperately hoping he was alive without evidence. Because, despite being a cold and seemingly uncaring man, Riley had run out of reasons to live. Llwyd had been his last excuse to hang on, and what a pathetic and vain longing it'd been.