The Red King [Book II]

XXXI

James kept to the shadows on his dazed walk back.

ㅤCaged in his own head, he didn't register the danger of being seen. His eyes stayed low, sensitive to light and heavy with distraction. His older brother captured most of his thoughts. Hair he'd once misunderstood for gold, he'd later learnt was only dull blond. A boy he thought he'd left alone to be happy—he was shaken to learn that hadn't been the case.

ㅤHis failure was more evidence that he couldn't trust his head, and never should have.

ㅤEven though he should've learnt his lesson—his broken thumb throbbing distantly—his heart fizzed in anxious calm as his eyes fell shut, as though leaving his fate to chance. He couldn't identify a single person who'd passed him, and he didn't want to. With each day, his sense of self blurred between the boundary of morning and night. He'd long stopped counting sunrises.

ㅤHe wasn't sure when he sleeps.

ㅤ"Circuses? I fucking love a circus."

ㅤLaughter. "I haven't had fun like this for a while."

ㅤJames watched the commoners as they passed, a scrap of their conversation drifting through his skull.

ㅤRight, he'd done that. It seemed his strategy to entertain was working on the citizens as hoped. That was good.

ㅤHands laced behind his head to get the blood flowing, he ignored the bright sting as he left the shade of the loggia, squinting to assess danger as he resumed his journey. The streets were kept mostly bare, activity huddling under roofs or calf-deep in water fountains.

ㅤSoldiers and knights patrolled in pairs, the blinding glint of the golden helmets and proud red plumes catching urgently in his grey vision. He still twitched like an assassin. Unable to ignore them.

ㅤBecause of that, he caught the tail of a different one's cloak, a soldier being swallowed by an alley. James ducked his head to investigate, following and peering around the corner, looking down a squeeze too tight to draw a sword in.

ㅤThe strings of hastily tied sandals dragged behind the lone man's feet, and his bag's strap caught awkwardly on the skewed spaulders. His prompt gait was long for his short height. Rushed.

ㅤSo James grabbed him by the nape of his cloak, kicked in his knees, and committed him to a shock-winded pile on the ground.

ㅤ"What the f—"

ㅤJames kicked the man's twisted helmet, face hidden as they cried out in pain from the clang, but James reckoned he knew the actor underneath.

ㅤIndeed, after pulling it halfway off, yanking the plume as if it were hair, it revealed the man below. Brown eyes squinted on an indignantly red face.

ㅤ"Get off me this inst—"

ㅤ"You're not supposed to be here," James said, dead calm. He watched the glare widen with genuine panic, the flush draining with cold horror.