Khearia's Sun

XLVI

Alex had experienced it before, but the Theos knights were like territorial wasps defending the nest. The two of them had been subject to passive-aggressive dismissals at the door when they'd signed the visitors log.

"We often get Drykas and Ankaid knights coming here," one of the guards had said to them, with a veiled smug undertone, "are your own records really that lacking?"

"We often send a lot of our documents here," Thomas had replied with a tight-lipped smile, "I reckon at least a third of these resources are ours."

"Ah, so you bring them here for safe keeping, do you?"

Every comment had been laden with implications that the Drykas knights were less capable than them, or that Lyechester was an inferior or dangerous place. It was childish, but Alex couldn't help but retaliate.

"We do so much paperwork that it's simply impossible to store it all back home," he lamented, "the Theos palace always has lots of empty space that doesn't seem to get filled."

It wasn't a good idea to reciprocate their snide comments since it would only risk further escalation, but Alex was overstretched and overworked. He needed to vent his frustrations out somewhere.

"How's the duke doing?" the guard asked suddenly.

Alex didn't bother looking up from where he was writing. "Which one?"

There was a hesitance. Alex glanced upward to see two guards having a silent argument with each other through their eyes.

"I'm just saying," the knight went on casually, "it's nearly Helou week soon, right?"

"Dude," the other guard hissed.

Alex put the pen down, straightening to his full height, making direct eye contact.

"And, what's that got to do with me?" Alex asked calmly.

Thomas put a hand on his arm. "We shouldn't," he murmured.

Alex brushed him off. "No, no. I want to know. What's that got to do with me?"

The knight shrugged, crossing his arms. "Just hoping you feel safe, that's all."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"No need to be defensive," the knight laughed, "I'm only wishing you well, Lord Alexander."

Alex stared.

"Getting angry won't do any good," Thomas whispered, "let it go for now."

Alex smiled, not pleasantly; it was acrid and bitter, laden with disgust, for both them and himself, for everyone. He wanted to break their skulls open, just like he had to those other knights when he was a child. He hated them all.

Alex was so full of loathing, getting angry was never an option. He'd kill himself before he'd lash out. James' opinion on it be damned. That man had no idea about anything.

So, Alex peacefully walked past them, Thomas in tow, to enter the archive without bloodshed, even if his fists trembled.

Thomas didn't insult him with any stupid witty remarks about the situation, and went straight to the point.

"So, Riley wanted us to look for information about Llwyd, but honestly, I doubt we'll find much that we don't already have."

"No," Alex agreed, relaxing his jaw, "we're only here to get their attention. Let's look anyway."

"You did right by not bringing James here. He'd murder all of these guys if he had the chance."

Alex took the archive in. There were so many folders and records that rippled along the shelves like tree bark that the whole room felt like a forest; the same from all angles, easy to get lost in.

Even if he thought all these monsters deserved death, he knew he was doing the right thing by protecting their lives and keeping James away. Murder was wrong, and nothing would change his opinion, ever.

The palace guards had certainly noted their presence, as well had the other browsing visitors. There was a constant sense that they were being watched from afar, each movement they made being assessed.

They looked at some random files first, near the correct section, just to throw them off the scent. None were in earshot, though.

"Did you know before?" Thomas asked him.

Alex flipped a page. "Know what?"

"Well, I know you and James are close..." that last word hovered over their heads for a moment, "I just wondered if you knew who he really was."

"I knew nothing at first," Alex made it clear. "I later found out he was a royal. I also knew he was a relative of..." He trailed off.

"I still can't believe it."

Alex understood why. "He may be vulgar like a commoner, but he's definitely got that self-assured superior attitude that royals do, it's not simple arrogance. You just need to watch him properly. He looks at people like insects. Used to piss me off."

"Clearly you watch him a lot harder than I do, then."

Alex looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Is there an accusation in there?"

Thomas shut the book he was reading and went to replace it. "Look, I really don't care about your business as long as it doesn't affect me, okay? I already told James this. I just wanted to know whether you knew all this before you dragged me here."

Alex bristled. Thomas, even if he kept the anger at bay, was blaming him for bringing him into something so dangerous.

"I will never apologise to you," Alex stated, firmly.

"I know you won't," Thomas said, "that's why I resent you— both of you. You and the duke."

"I'm not like him."

"You are to me. You risk my life, my wife's life, my daughter, all for your own interest."

"With this, you'll help me save other people's wives," Alex asserted, "what about their daughters?"

Thomas looked him dead in the eye.

"You never gave me any other choice."

Thomas wouldn't have said yes if Alex had given him the option, that was why he hadn't. If Alex could go back and change his decision, he wouldn't.

"You and James," Thomas continued, "you only have your lives to lose. Not the rest of us, though. We have families, loved ones."

"So do they."

"You knew this would put me in danger."

In a surge of frustration, Alex took a step forward, crowding into Thomas' face, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Yes I did, and I'd do it again. Do you think I wanted this to happen either? I will do this for the people even if they don't deserve it because that's my job. That's what's right."

"No," Thomas spat, "you'll do it because that's what benefits you."

Alex stared for a moment, soaking in Thomas' hateful gaze. It was a gaze that was usually friendly. But, not anymore. He took a step away.

"Is that all?" he asked.

Thomas scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. "You don't care, do you? You really don't. You and James are perfect for each other, you're both incapable of empathy."

"I don't need you to like it, Thomas. You just need to do it. This is the job you signed up for. Don't like it? Quit."

"You know I didn't choose this career—"

Thomas snapped his mouth shut, footsteps approaching. They prepared themselves, acting natural, inconspicuous.

A guard they didn't recognise came around the corner, looking into their aisle.

"You gentlemen okay for everything?"

"Yes, thank you," Alex replied blandly.

The guard didn't leave. "Anything you're looking for in particular?"

"We've found it all. Just some follow ups, checking the men we have in custody don't have prior records."

The man lingered for a moment longer. "Well, if you're sure..."

Alex plastered on a wide, clearly fake, smile and the guard left. His face dropped just as suddenly as the expression had appeared.

He knew getting harassed and surveyed was the whole point of being there, but that didn't make it any less irritating. He wished people would just let him work in peace.

He turned to Thomas, asking him point blank; "Are you going to be a liability?"

Thomas looked like he wanted to say yes, just to be spiteful. But, he deflated. "No," he decided.

Alex nodded curtly. "Good. Now, pull out Llwyd's file."

? ? ?

The palace felt cold, even if James knew it wasn't. His heart raced, feeling breathless, he had to force himself to walk casually, to keep himself unremarkable. Even if he was present physically, he needed to be one of those kinds of people that one's gaze hardly skims past, faceless.

"How's it been since I left?" Riley had asked Owen.

"Man, you've missed out on all sorts. It's been hilarious..."

"Hilarious?"

"Yeah! Some people have been trying to take your place and cosy up to His Royal Highness. You can imagine exactly how that went..."

Riley's low laugh sounded evil. "Oh my."

"Right? As you can imagine, they're not a problem anymore."

"I wouldn't have thought so," Riley agreed.

It was all well that Riley was distracting the guard. Fletcher was struggling to maintain his composure. His chin was stubbornly kept high, but his eyes were wide and glassy, darting around. Fletcher's nervousness was making him feel nervous.

"When are you coming back?"

"You know how it is," Riley hedged vaguely.

Owen wasn't a complete idiot, because he didn't push further than that. It was fascinating. It seemed as if every person in the Theos palace portrayed themselves as more moronic than they actually were. It wasn't a behaviour exclusive to Riley.

Owen stopped, turning around. "This is you."

"Brilliant."

The door was excessively large compared to the others in the same corridor, the delicate regal carvings plated with gold.

Owen rapped his knuckles against it after a beat of hesitation, then cracked the door open to clearly announce their arrival.

"Lord Riley Muir and his guests are awaiting Your Royal Highness."

"Send them in," a murmur replied.

James came beside Fletcher, staying close.

They followed Riley through the door, keeping their heads lowered respectfully. The door snipped shut behind them, a small echo that was sharp and final.

Riley bowed, low. "Your Royal Highness."

Prince Maurice stood up from his sofa, his long legs eating up the length of the floor, striding with bold confidence.

Even if James shouldn't have, he caught a peek at the prince's face. He immediately noticed how absurdly tall he was, his green eyes constantly looking down at the people around him with a detached arrogance that James could understand.

Long blonde hair untied, it hung from his head and caught the sunlight, silky— too silky for prince. His skin was clear of any blemishes, like porcelain. Other than the short trimmed beard he now wore, he looked exactly the same as James had remembered, just a decade older.

Prince Maurice stood in front of Riley, waiting, expectant. Then, the prince laughed and pulled Riley in for a boisterous hug, slapping his back. Riley returned it just as enthusiastically.

"Riley, Riley, Riley!" The prince grabbed Riley's face in both hands and smooched his cheek, excessive with the noise.

"It's been a while, Maurice."

"Too long!" the prince slapped his arm, taking only a small step back, he was still standing too close. "I was starting to get worried about you, you know? That's no way to treat your cousin."

James returned his eyes to the floor so that the prince wouldn't be able to see the sneer that threatened to make itself known. Murder wasn't a way to treat his brothers either.

"I'm lucky you're so forgiving," Riley replied, not a hint of sarcasm lacing the words. "I've heard a lot of brilliant things you've been doing, though. Incredible stuff. I'm starting to feel left out!"

"That's your own fault," the prince joked, but the accusation hung in the undertone, "I'll have so much to show you when you return."

Return?

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Now, will you introduce us?"

"Ah, of course. Maurice, this is Fletcher Azeus, the brains of the Drykas house. Fletcher, this is His Royal Highness, Prince Maurice."

Fletcher bowed lower, not saying a word.

The prince laughed at this. "Oh, I do hope you don't find me intimidating. Please, raise your head, speak to me."

James shut his eyes, breathing in shallowly, his ears straining to listen to every single rustle, every hitched breath. You got this, Fletcher. Come on, kid.

He heard Fletcher straighten his back to his full height. "It's a serious honour to be in Your Royal Highness' presence." His voice was remarkably steady.

"The pleasure is all mine, Professor Azeus. You have a mind bestowed onto you by Adeia Herself! Lyechester is lucky to have you."

Fletcher seemed to struggle momentarily with what to say next. "I'm flattered... King William has been very kind to me."

"I'm sure," Maurice replied, curt. "I do hope you've felt comfortable here. You're always welcome— you and any bodyguards. I'm sorry you struggled to enter earlier. I've dealt with the guard in question."

"Your Royal Highness could never have anything to apologise for," Fletcher said, slightly laboured. "I'm deeply thankful that Your Royal Highness thinks about me so kindly."

There was a moment of silence.

"He's quite boring, this one," the prince stated, speaking the royal language fluently, having communicated in it all his life.

Riley chuckled. "I didn't think you'd find him interesting. He's very meek."

Prince Maurice dismissively waved a hand. "Well, they're all like that over there. And they reckon they're the defence of the kingdom. How misguided."

"Indeed."

James was tense under his skin, but it seemed he'd gone mostly unnoticed. In Prince Maurice's eyes, he was no one important, just some bodyguard, a commoner.

"Actually, I'm relieved you went there," the prince said.

"Oh? You no longer disapprove?"

James kept his face perfectly blank, not allowing anything to show that he understood their conversation. The royal language was an excellent tool in keeping conversations confidential, however, despite what the high nobles thought, it had one serious flaw; overreliance.

The perceived guarantee of confidentiality made the high nobles sloppy with what they said and where, and James was about to take advantage of that.

"I never disapproved, Riley. You're doing an honourable thing by spying on them.

Although, it's true, I miss you. All the men here are stupid, sensitive.

" The prince returned to his sofa, lying on his back, lounging on it, gazing at the high ceiling.

"I've run into some issues, you see. That bastard, King William, is refusing to take my advice. "

Riley scoffed, as if insulted by the suggestion. "We can't have that. Would you like me to try to sway him?"

"It would be incredible if you could.

Of course, I won't expect the impossible from you.

I asked that bastard to move his men off of the northern border and down to Edobury for some.

.. population control, let's say. It would kill two birds with one stone.

But that old lazy little shit won't do it. "

"It's a good idea, really," Riley said. "That place is festering with brown scum. It's ridiculous he's allowed the problem to get this bad."

The prince shrugged. "Well, I can't do anything about it unfortunately. It's not my territory after all. They'll only keep breeding and the slums will spread. Our citizens might start becoming darker too, corrupted by that vile blood. It's an affront to our identity."

James couldn't believe what he was hearing.

It was reprehensible enough to want to move the Drykas knights away from the northern borders so that the citizen death count would be higher upon an invasion.

At the very least, there was a reason for that— it would make the war more politically popular.

But, to then utilise those men to go massacre the free slaves in Edobury, women, children, just because he thought they were a blight, was inexcusable. These were all innocent people.

He risked a glance upwards.

Riley was smiling, cocky. "I'll have to see what I can do about that."

"Always so reliable," the prince hummed. Then, he sniggered. "Hey, speaking of brown scum, I've heard something fascinating."

"Oh?"

"I heard you came here with the duke's adopted son."

Only a blink would have betrayed James' cover.

Riley grinned. "You heard correctly."

"How did it feel for the shepherd to be ordered around by the livestock?"

James' eye twitched. Somehow, Riley's behaviour was so smooth, so unapologetic, that James was struggling to work out if he was acting or not.

"It's funny," Riley replied, "I felt like a wolf getting yapped at by a dog."

Bile rose up his throat.

"I'm glad you could find the humour in it. I think it's disgusting, quite frankly, to have an Ashadi prance around like a noble. What in Khearia was the duke thinking, adopting that animal?"

Riley's smile didn't falter. "Indeed."

"That being said, I heard a rumour recently. Apparently, the duke utilises some interesting discipline."

The prince then began to laugh, heartily, a disgustingly genuine rumble from the chest.

James' heart sank.

Riley grinned, nodding as if he knew what the prince was talking about.

Discipline?

Prince Maurice stretched, his arms reaching over the arm of the sofa. He rolled his head towards his cousin, his amusement sickening.

"See, the duke likes to strip him naked and strap his arms around a post, in front of anyone. Apparently, he whips that animal until he gets tired. It's funny. He never did that to his other children, I sure do wonder why that one is different!"

The blood was draining from him, falling, scalding. Genuine bloodthirst rarely swept over him but, just then, he wanted to crush bones in his fists.

His fingers tapped his knives, so tempted. It would be so easy.

So fucking easy.

"I wished he'd do that here," the prince continued, "I'd pay to watch that animal scream."

Riley smiled apologetically in response. "Unfortunately, you'd be disappointed. That one doesn't scream, ever."

"How arrogant," the prince remarked.

A choke wanted to tear up his throat, but he forced down. The nerve of these men to say these things...

How could Riley dare stand there, and laugh about it?

Even if James willed his body to relax, it was hardly possible.

Suddenly, he was aware the prince's attention was on him. The self control it took James to not stare the man down in his poisonous eyes was almost painful. He kept them lowered, subservient.

"Is that one a commoner?" the prince asked.

Riley deferred to Fletcher, who simply seemed awkward, having not understood a word of the previous discussion.

"I will often make a point to hire commoners, Your Royal Highness," Fletcher said.

The prince hummed in approval. "Yes, yes.

Very good of you. Commoners are the backbone of this society!

This kingdom is amazing, no other place on this planet cares about social mobility like we do.

It's an amazing thing that even a commoner bodyguard can be in the audience of a prince.

That's why we're so successful, after all, we're a kingdom of talent. "

The hypocrisy only fuelled the fire. Pretending to care about social mobility, whilst excluding slaves from that principle, it was abhorrent.

"He looks like someone I know," the prince then remarked to Riley. "But, I suppose even a handsome rat is still a rat."

The muscles in James' legs tensed, on the cusp of moving him forward. But, suddenly, a servant got in the way, leaning down to whisper in the prince's ear. Whatever the man was saying, it made Prince Maurice frown.

"You'll have to excuse me," the prince said, standing. "I'll see you again before you leave, Riley."

"I look forward to it."

Before James could make an attempt, the prince left, the door shutting behind him, leaving only the three of them left.

An awful silence enshrouded them. It was the kind of grey, brittle shock that occurred after something unspeakable, it rendered them unable to think.

For the first time that day, Riley's smile wasn't steady. "Let's go."

Fletcher nodded woodenly.

They trudged down the corridor, like their feet were heavily caked in mud. He stared after Riley's pale hair, damaged by the elements, his messy plait frizzy. James stopped.

He hesitated.

Then, he turned on his heel, not feeling his legs, his resolve welling up. His pace became quicker with each step, chest throbbing.

"James!"

James ignored Riley's call. He thumped through the corridor, focused on a single thing.

A firm hand caught his bicep, yanking him backwards, holding him in a vice. James snatched his arm away, trying to pry it out of Riley's claws. Riley was insistent.

"James, you can't do anything," he implored.

"What are you talking about?"

He tried to break free again, but Riley wrestled him in place.

"James, I'm serious. You can't kill him."

"Kill who?" James asked. "Alex's business is his business, not mine. Why would I interfere?"

He tested the knight's strength again, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Riley was too strong, too stubborn, he would have to maim the man to escape. Riley's horrid words had made it easy to consider.

"You're clearly pissed off about this," Riley said, voice knotted with exertion.

"Not at all. Why would I be?"

He attempted to resume his march. He would drag Riley along with him if he had to. He didn't get far, Riley was stronger than him.

"James, stop!"

He paused.

The world was still and peaceful around them, only their panting could be heard.

Riley weakened his grip and looked James in the eye.

"You have feelings for him," he claimed, softly.

James narrowed his eyes, his breath tight. "I don't have any of those."

"We both know that's not true."

His attention had shifted, Prince Maurice put on the back burner. He let the disgust he felt for Riley show on his face, how unacceptable he'd found it all.

James was fond of Alex, but feelings were something he didn't have. He didn't. He knew he didn't— even if he behaved like he did.

"Then, you're mistaken," he spat.

Riley's gaze cast downward, his brows crumpled in an internal struggle. He chewed the inside of his mouth before quickly making eye contact once again. James faintly realised he'd never seen Riley look so sincere before.

"What Alex needs right now is not Jay the assassin, but Julian the prince," Riley told him, quietly. "He's betting everything on you. You can't get our mission distracted, you'll only do him harm."

But, James had just heard the most repulsive and horrid things. He couldn't scrub his ears of it. Alex's dignity had been shredded and mocked, so utterly and mercilessly.

"You don't have to ever forgive me for the things I said in there," Riley said, his hands squeezing James' shoulders. "I won't even insult Alex with an apology. But, please listen to me now. I'm telling you that this won't help him. So, don't try it."

James turned his nose up. "Prince Maurice said you were going to return some day."

Riley flinched, letting out a long shaky breath. "That's just what he thinks."

After a moment of deliberation, James relaxed and surrendered. He hadn't been thinking rationally. He felt inclined to believe Riley was on their side, even if he didn't trust nor like the man. Right now, he pretty fucking hated him, actually.

Attempting to kill Prince Maurice was not only highly unlikely to succeed, but it would cause Alex more grief and make an already difficult task impossible.

They could only move freely because they weren't yet suspects.

James needed to remember that he couldn't be Jay anymore, not when people knew who he was.

He'd already lost his anonymity, his seclusion.

As Riley said, he needed to be Julian.

Fletcher slowly approached them, hands out in front like he was warding a dangerous animal. He swallowed hard.

"What was said in there?" he asked, looking between them.

James hadn't quite regained his composure, his jaw clenched shut.

"It was nothing, Fletcher," Riley was quick to say. "Don't worry about it."

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" He gestured wildly at James. "Nothing doesn't make him go like that! Who are you trying to fool?"

Riley was at a loss, too overwhelmed.

"He was trying to save Alex's dignity, Fletch," James said, his fury now simmering below the surface, barely controlled. "I will never repeat the things I had heard in there, and I won't dare let Riley either."

Fletcher's brows hung low, his mouth parted open. He regarded Riley, then went back to James.

"Even if you can't now," Fletcher started, firmly, "you do it in the future. Okay?"

"I will," James responded instantly.

Riley dragged Fletcher by the sleeve, hurried. "We need to leave, now."

James chased after them.

"You looked like you had a lot of fun in there," James noted, his tongue feeling sour.

Riley didn't spare him a glance. "You can take your anger out on me, James. No matter how unfeeling it is. But, that doesn't make it true."

"Isn't it?"

Riley finally looked at him. "I don't sleep at night."

That was of no concern to James. Blaming Riley, though, would achieve nothing. It was thanks to him that they were all alive, that they had the luxury to complain about it. Escaping hadn't ever been a guarantee. They'd gotten lucky the prince had been called away so early.

Duke Chamberlain, however, that was someone James could slaughter. To use public humiliation and whipping as a punishment— no wonder Alex was always so suspicious that James was trying to embarrass him. It made sense he never wanted to fully take his clothes off.

James' face was still hot with rage, his blood thrumming. He looked down at his vibrating hands. He would hold on to this sensation. He'd sear it into his memory.

The next time he saw either of those men, even in passing, he'd remember this.