XLI
"I don't understand why he has to be so horrible to me," James complained, flopping onto the sofa. He let his body fall to the side so he was lying down, his shoulder burrowing into the soft cushion. The silk felt soft against his cheek, so he rubbed his face against it.
His mother smiled sadly at him, her green eyes creasing sympathetically. "He does love you, Jule."
James inwardly humphed. "No he doesn't, mum. All he talks about is how weak and stupid I am. He's older than me! No wonder he keeps winning. Every time I lose he just tells me how he'll lock me in prison for being a loser once he's king."
After a moment of silence, his mother stood from her seat near the window.
Her gown flowed lightly, delicately, like butterflies, as she made her way to him, the scent of flowers following her.
He sat up for a moment, making room for her to sit next to him, before lying again, resting his head on her lap.
"Well, do you want to be king one day?" she asked, stroking his hair. He relaxed at the touch, feeling warmth blooming in his chest, his heart soothing.
"I mean... yes, I guess," he said, his eyes creeping shut, "I want to prove him wrong. I don't want to lose."
His mother hummed in thought, a soft and familiar sound. He felt her lean down and kiss his cheek. He smiled. After she came up, she twirled a lock of his long hair, then started to plait it.
"Is that the only reason?"
James flopped his hand in a half-hearted shrug. He opened his eyes to regard the room; the silk furniture, the golden glow of the sun, the peaceful crystal taps of wind chimes. This was his home. His comfort. He never wanted to leave it.
"I want to stay here," he told her, "and I want to rub it in Fabian's face after I send him packing."
His mother chuckled. "That's not very nice, Jule."
"He's not very nice. He said he'd put me in the dungeon, I'm taking the high ground actually, mum."
She sighed slightly, a noise that was common from her.
"So, what would be the first thing you'd do for the kingdom if you became king?"
James didn't really have an answer. He thought about it for a moment and she waited for him patiently, moving onto the next lock of his hair to play with. When he thought about lobbying politicians, it felt burdensome. Was there anything about the kingdom he didn't like?
"I'd keep it the same," James declared, "I love this place, it doesn't need change."
"Funny," his mum mused.
James tilted his head slightly to look up at her, her long blonde hair tickling his nose. "What's funny?"
"Despite what you think, you two boys are alike," she said, smiling in soft amusement.
He frowned, not liking it when either of his parents compared them. They rarely did, knowing this.
"Why do you say that?"
Her hand covered his eyes, warm and soft, encouraging him to rest. He started to feel sleepy, tired after a long day of training.
"Well," his mum murmured, "because your brother told me the exact same thing."
? ? ?
James' need for privacy has been granted for the most part. He wasn't an idiot, he didn't go far after leaving. He simply took a seat on some steps around the corner, out of view of the window, but close enough that they could hear him if he shouted.
It was hard. Caring was hard. Getting too close to others, witnessing the complexity of their lives, coerced into acknowledging that they were just as detailed and real as his own, it was all hard.
He hated the tightness of guilt in his chest; the knowledge that his own actions could change the trajectory of their lives.
He was Jay, the lone assassin, as tangible as smoke. He was supposed to be elusive and alone.
"Why can't you do something about this?" he pleaded with Eris. "It's uncomfortable."
He felt no indications from her at all, their connection was like a taut string with no ripples to read, no details to examine.
"You never tell me these things, why? Why do you leave me guessing? You're supposed to be my protector. I just don't understand..."
She didn't relent. There was nothing.
He didn't understand why she would stay with him if she refused to communicate about these things. It was confusing.
"I don't even know what you are, anymore," James told her, feeling resentful, "the more I learn about you, the more I start to dislike you."
He sighed to himself, realising the insanity of trying to offend a lump of metal, attempting to hurt its feelings because it didn't talk back to him. Maybe he was already crazy.
He felt immature for stomping out the room over what Alex had said, it hadn't even been false, but he didn't know how to deal with people. The last company he'd had was his mentor, but he hadn't been a normal sociable person either. This was all foreign. He felt out of place.
"What am I even doing?" he muttered.
Just as he was resolving himself to rejoin the group, he was suddenly burdened with company. Thomas sat down next to him, perching uncomfortably.
The man hardly looked at him, keeping his head forward, scanning the people who walked past.
"I don't want you to think I'm interfering," Thomas began, "I'm only going to say this because I'm tired of it being slapped in my face."
James inwardly rolled his eyes. Brilliant.
Thomas continued promptly, not leaving an opportunity for James to snipe something snarky.
"I won't pretend to understand what's going on between you two, but you need to talk to him and get on the same page.
There's a tension between you two that affects the rest of us, puts us on edge.
Alex is stressed— too stressed. He's the only superior that would take these matters as seriously as he does, so you need to be more grateful.
He takes on all the responsibility, and the way he slaves away over it is taxing on him.
He's a good person, too good." Thomas looked him in the eye.
"Talk to him and stop making everything so difficult. He's only human."
James didn't say anything. He hated thinking he needed to take advice from a knight, of all people. Worse still, Thomas' words were more reasonable than he liked.
"I thought you didn't want me getting close to your boss," James murmured, picking at some weeds that were sprouting between the steps.
"I don't." Thomas didn't hesitate. "But, clearly, we don't all get what we pray for. You and Alex have something weird going on and you need to sort it out."
James sniffed, unimpressed by the lecture. "I don't do it for no reason."
"No, I know why you do it. You want him to get angry, because you like to play little games with his head, just because you can. But, Alex is brittle. The harder you push, the harder he splinters. And it's unproductive and painful to watch."
Most people they'd encountered had wanted nothing to do with Alex; all they'd cared about was their next joke. Not Thomas, he'd genuinely gotten to know his superior.
"Why do you think that?"
"I've known him for years. I've seen what happens when he gets pushed too hard. I understand what you're doing, but I'm telling you now, you need to stop playing with his head. You're doing him no favours."
James slowly nodded, that painful guilt coming back to mangle him all up inside. Once again, he had failed to treat Alex like a human being. He had been a toy for James to crack.
"That's my piece," Thomas concluded, standing. "Take it, or don't. Either way, don't force me to get involved. I just want to get this expedition done and return to my family."
James smiled, finding his words so in-character. "You're more perceptive than you let on," he complimented.
Thomas snorted at that, already walking away before he finished speaking. "Shut up and leave us out of it from now on."
He wasn't offended by Thomas' snappiness, everyone had been grumpy thanks to Riley, James was also testy.
Rubbing his sore tired eyes, he soon made his way back to the inn, the world around him grey, bright and painful to look at. The sun was mockingly cheerful, he wanted to douse it in water.
He caught Riley and Alex returning from the showers once he got to the inn front door. Alex was dry but Riley wasn't, he must have been freshening up after spending a night tied to a chair.
"I still hate you," he told Riley.
Riley sneered. "It's mutual."
He turned to Alex, about to say something, but then stopped, nothing coming out. Alex waited, his expression shuttered and the air awkward around him. Riley slithered past them to enter inside.
He hated how complicated Alex was. How could he communicate without stressing him out further? It quickly became apparent that no words would come to him. So, he followed Riley inside and left Alex on the doorstep.
"Is that it, then?" Alex called.
James glanced over his shoulder, stopping on the stairs
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, part fed up, part curious.
Alex scowled but didn't elaborate at all.
James groaned and then descended a few steps, fighting his better judgement. "I appreciate how hard you're trying," he said, like it would explain everything.
Alex raised his eyebrows. "But...?"
"No buts. You do your utmost to save the lives of the very people who mock you, even though I wouldn't bother. It's not something I can relate to, because I'm cowardly like that. But, I like that about you."
Alex scrutinised his face for any signs of sarcasm or deceit.
James clicked his tongue, if it had been anyone treating him like this, he would've assaulted them.
Alex annoyed him to no end, but he wasn't experiencing violent urges over it.
Life would be easier if he could punch the man, get punched back, and then they could kiss and move on.
"You're not a coward," Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping.
He was. But, he had no plans to change that about himself.
He didn't bother correcting him. "We should get moving, we can talk about that later."
James would need to think about what he wanted to say first, a script. If he tried talking now, he would only revert back to his pushy habits. He'd heed Thomas' advice. But, he still wanted Alex to entertain his anger.
Humankind had been granted anger for a reason; without it, you would allow injustices to slide, for others to take advantage of you. Adeia and Moira gifted them the ability to tell others to fuck off, to force consequences on wrongdoers. He wanted to see Alex retaliate and better his life.
"Do you like this place, James?" Alex asked unexpectedly.
James hesitated. Alex was staring at him sincerely, holding his breath like James' answer could sink the land into the ocean. James didn't have an answer. He didn't know.
He felt compelled to ask something else in turn. "Do you respect the late King Leonardo?"
Alex's lips thinned and he glanced away. James understood perfectly.
"I know he was your father," Alex said, barely above a whisper, "but..." he gestured around him, arms flopping pathetically, his face pained. "This kingdom is a shithole, James."
James chuckled, somewhat bitterly. Complicated and contradictory emotions were raging an uncomfortable storm inside him, his heart throbbing. His dad had ruled a third of this kingdom and he wanted to feel proud of this fact.
But, he'd never reconciled the kingdom he'd seen as a boy, and the kingdom that he'd experienced thereafter.
One was gold and the other was dirt. Inside him, the two realities coexisted, untouching, unresolved.
It was as if he could walk back into the palace one day, through those golden doors, and the golden world he grew up in would return suddenly, whilst the other would cease to exist. He was happier living this muddled way, ignoring the obvious clash, remaining in denial, because he didn't want to face the reality that his family had enabled the reprehensible.
"The world up there is different to the world down here," James tried, "they don't know."
Alex shook his head. "No. No, they know. They just don't care enough to admit it to themselves."
That was certainly one interpretation; one he was too scared to admit himself.
"I'm going to get ready, now." He wanted this conversation to end.
Before Alex could say anything more, he escaped up the stairs, out of earshot. What he thought of the kingdom was unimportant. It wasn't a mental conflict that needed to be solved because he never planned to rule anyway. It was fine if he left his mind like this.
He didn't need to change.