The Red King [Book II]

XXIV

Something hard was bruising his cheekbone. Opening his tired eyes to nothing, James numbly blinked a few times, unable to keep them open without the world spinning. His mind was soft and empty. He'd rolled off his sleeping mat during his sleep.

ㅤ"Hello?"

ㅤHis voice went no further than the too-small space, receiving no echo.

ㅤConfused, James' tried to lift his head but stopped as he sucked in a harsh breath. His face screwed up, his skull splitting with pain. Tears pricked his eyes and he gritted his teeth.

ㅤ"Hey," he croaked. "Aren't you there?"

ㅤThe voice that left him was the wrong one. His heart pittered, perturbed.

ㅤEven though he couldn't see anything, nausea struck him with each attempt to keep his woozy gaze fixed. He scrambled to push himself off the floor but his arms were wrenched with a drum-piercing clang.

ㅤSlowly, he moved again but the clatter of chains snaking along the floor restrained them. He didn't understand.

ㅤ"Did you do this?" he accused. "Take them off me."

ㅤFabian's clothes rustled in the next cell over, reading his book silently as though he didn't hear him.

ㅤ"I'm serious." The words slurred together. "Where..." He frowned, concentrating hard. "Where did you even get these?"

ㅤThe shackles squeeze his wrists firmly like strict adult hands dragging him along to discipline his villainy.

ㅤFabian turned a page and the sound startled him, emanating from the wrong direction—somewhere in front. His pulse pounded through his temples and throttled his laborious concentration. Fabian's clothes still rustled beside him but he couldn't hear Fabian breathe.

ㅤAnother page turned ahead, a desk creaking with the weight of someone big perching against it.

ㅤHe wasn't where he thought he was.

ㅤHe rolled over to map his location against the sky. But the stars throbbed and squirmed before his eyes, bright beacons refusing to remain. He whimpered, tears rising.

ㅤHe was going to be left behind.

ㅤA startling bolt unlocked somewhere, the sound dropping into his chest. A slither of light followed an opened door. James squinted against it, blinded, and the figure shut it behind them, a lamp in hand.

ㅤ"When will I be let out?" he asked the guard. "I need to go."

ㅤTime. He was running out of time. Even in his confusion, he had somewhere he desperately needed to be.

ㅤ"When?" the guard questioned. "...You really leave me speechless—as if this farce wasn't enough."

ㅤ"What are you talking about?"