XLIX
"Is that really what the people think happened?"
James couldn't believe it. This whole time, people had thought he and his father had been possessed by demons, that they let strangers into the palace?
Alex squeezed his hand. "No. There have been many plays about King Fabian, but the past in them is never consistent. A lot of different playwrights have their own theories, so it changes every year. Many don't even attempt to depict his childhood."
"Only I know what truly happened, huh?" James lamented.
Feeling wounded out of his sense of humiliation and weakness, James finally stood up, stubbornly balancing on his feet, even if the ground still wobbled under him.
Alex didn't fight him this time, watching him keenly. He only got up himself once he'd established that James wouldn't fall again.
"That's never happened to me before," James confessed, flustered, unable to tolerate the awkward air.
Alex's gaze persisted and James looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"They're not uncommon," Alex told him, undeterred. "Even the strongest of men suffer. I have, too."
James nodded, jaggedly.
There was still a weakness in his legs, his brain stinging.
But, with Eris in his hand, he felt calm.
Still, she felt absent, even now. There was no indication she felt anything, even though she used to be so chatty.
He missed it. Even without words, she could be so snarky and could cheer him up when he needed it.
He looked down pathetically at the mess of pages on the ground, some crumpled, some ruined. Most of it was still at his lower back, kept sturdy by his belt, but they'd slipped over time. And, the erratic movements of his panic had dislodged some.
Alex followed his gaze. "So, this is why you didn't want me to touch your back, huh?"
James winced at the unsaid accusation and bent down to start retrieving them. They were lucky that the small alley was devoid of passersby.
"Riley was summoned only minutes after we got inside. I barely got a chance to find the right documents, let alone memorise anything important."
"So, you stole them instead?"
James glared up at him, tapping the bunch of parchment on his leg to align the pages.
"What else should I have done?"
"No one saw you do it?"
James scoffed, returning to his full height. "No, Alex, I actually gathered up an audience before I started vandalising government property. Of fucking course no one saw me do it. I even picked the pages out of the binders and put the empty covers back where they belonged."
Alex sighed. "Right, sorry. I didn't mean to be condescending. I'm just stressed out. This is the kind of thing I wanted to avoid."
James retracted his claws. "Trust me when I say; I had no other choice."
Alex raised his eyebrows.
"Or, don't trust me," James relented.
James added the pages to the rest of the documents he had, before securing them behind his back once again. Alex had asked why he didn't just put it in a bag and James felt silly explaining that was too paranoid to do that.
"Let's go," James insisted, walking away.
Alex hovered by him annoyingly close. "Are you okay without help?"
"Touch me and we're going to have a domestic incident."
James meant his warning. Like Hell would he let his pride get shredded any further.
Anything softer than stone was failure, and James couldn't be weak.
He'd made it this far on his own, the only thing he could trust in this world was himself and his own ability.
He wouldn't allow that to be diminished.
"Thank you," he said, later. The words had been difficult to force out.
Perhaps it was because the world was beginning to darken as evening threatened, and he couldn't see Alex's face very well, because as much as he'd felt embarrassed, he'd felt equally grateful and tender.
For once, his crushing problem had been lifted off of him by someone other than himself.
And, he felt a little less abused because of it.
His chest felt heavy. When was the last time he'd felt protected?
"I'm just a reliable knight doing my duty," Alex replied, "that's why you like me."
James smiled, somewhat dubiously.
"It's more than me liking you," he confessed. "Even if I removed myself from the equation, I'd still like you."
Alex huffed in humour. "That makes no sense, but I'm sure you were trying to be nice, even if it sounded slightly self-absorbed. So, thank you."
James wasn't feeling confident enough to rephrase his true meaning.
He liked Alex more than an object he could have, that much was becoming clear.
In a way, he'd rather have Alex stay the way he was even if that meant not owning him at all.
He still liked Alex even if he removed himself from the situation— that was what he'd meant.
It felt too generous to simply be friendship.
Fletcher and Thomas had been waiting in a quiet residential street near the palace's exit. They'd regarded James awkwardly as the two of them approached and James pretended not to notice that, to save his dignity.
"No sign of him yet?" Alex asked.
Thomas pursed his lips and shook his head.
Alex scrubbed his face in frustration, making a strangled guttural sound. The situation wasn't looking good, the sun was already beginning to set below the urban skyline, shadows paling and softening, the light becoming more crisp.
"Fuck," Alex said, "fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"We're going to have to report him," Thomas uttered, gravely. "Which isn't that different from suicide for us, anyway."
There was nothing James could add to that. He would have to flee, and quickly. It was a disappointing result, for some reason, he really hadn't thought Riley would do it.
Fletcher appeared terrified like he might faint. James wondered if he should bring Fletcher away with him too, but then he'd want Alex to come along as well. Alex would never abandon his responsibility, however. Could he leave Alex alone to deal with this himself?
"Oh, thank the Gods," Thomas suddenly breathed out, voice wobbly.
Riley was marching towards them, alone, glancing over his shoulder, over and over again.
As relieved as they were to see him, something was off about him.
There was no sign of that fake smile he loved donning, nor did he have a smug swagger in his steps.
His head was hung low, his eyes sunken, his back slouched.
The four of them retreated into the alley next to them, urging the man out of sight.
"You're la—"
Before Thomas could get the words out, Riley smashed his fist into the closest wall.
"Fuck!" he roared, long and loud.
Shocked, they watched him scream as he hurled his knuckles against the brick, his skin scraping and becoming muddied in dust and blood. His breathing was laboured, racked with what sounded like sobs.
Then, he stopped, heaving in air through his raw throat. The whites of his eyes were red, swollen, his nose scrunched up in pain.
Fletcher swallowed roughly, taking a careful step to approach him. "Riley?"
Riley groaned and leaned his weight on his elbows against the wall, staring at the ground. He gagged, nothing coming out. He then began to spit onto the floor, angry at his own sickness.
"Pleasant," James commented sarcastically.
Riley glared at him, the hatefulness dripping off his shoulders. "I've watched you vomit."
James clicked his fingers. "I knew that was you."
"Are you alright?" Alex asked him.
Riley's gaze went from James to Alex, lingering, and then returned to his feet.
"Just give me a moment." His voice sounded croaky and strained.
James didn't have the energy to conjure witty and annoying remarks.
Riley was taking long drags of air, releasing them slowly, in a controlled and even rhythm. Every now and then, he would grunt and then spit on the ground again, waiting for his nausea to pass.
Eventually, he stood straight and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"I fucking hate that place," he said, with real heat.
"So, that's two breakdowns I've witnessed in the last few minutes," Thomas remarked, unimpressed.
Fletcher elbowed him, but James couldn't even fault Thomas' bad mood. They all felt like shit. Thomas probably had a million things he would rather be doing.
The restrained and dangerous look that Riley shot Thomas's way was enough to make the other knight shrink, though.
Alex took control of the situation. "What happened?"
Riley scoffed, unable to keep his body still, tensing, shifting his weight. "Nothing important whatsoever. Nothing even related to what we're doing. I just despise it here."
He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm, running his hands over his hair, making an effort to fix his sickly appearance.
Fletcher frowned. "It is awful in there. It must have been tough being here on your own before."
"I wasn't always alone," Riley replied. He then sobered, his body stilling, quieting.
"Well, that must have made it easier," Fletcher tried, sympathetically. "Who are they? Friends? Family?"
Riley appeared no more alive than a statue for a moment, his eyes dead, no light reflected in them.
"Both," he answered, "I also had Llwyd."
James had known that Riley had been concerned about Llwyd, they were cousins, after all. But, he hadn't known that he was that important to Riley. No wonder he'd been so determined to find out more.
"But, Llywd disappeared two years ago," Thomas said, eyes wide in shock. "So, what, you were just alone in there that whole time? For a whole year, up until you came to Lyechester?"
James recoiled at the thought.
Riley's lips were twisted like he was on the edge of crying. "No... I left someone else behind when I went to King William though."
Fletcher approached him delicately. His voice was as soft as his body language. "A lover?"
Riley nodded.
Fletcher tried to smile encouragingly. "She must have trusted you had good reason to, surely?"
"Hold on, I thought he was married?" Thomas spoke up.
Riley's wet laugh sounded bitter and forced. "My wife isn't like yours. We hate each other, always have done; we're cousins. I pretend she doesn't exist, and she's happy to do the same."
"She'd probably care that you're being unfaithful."
"We don't have a relationship in the first place for either of us to be 'unfaithful'," Riley snarled. "Not like it's any of your concern."
"Maybe we should go see her, your lover," Fletcher suggested, turning to look at Alex. "That would be okay Alex, right? Surely?" But, Alex never got to answer before Riley spoke.
"He's dead."
A silent beat passed.
"Oh," Fletcher stated.
Inconspicuous bits of information in James' head were suddenly strung together, becoming coherent.
"What happened to him?" James asked.
Riley seemed resentful at that point, glancing around the group like their silence was somehow a long-standing personal affront towards him, accusing them with his eyes, at his wit's end.
All of them looked uncomfortable, and James could suddenly understand Riley better.
Even if the rest of them didn't realise it, they were judging him.
Riley kicked the wall again, for good measure, but most of the fight had been drained from him. The action now came across as floundering, like he was drowning inside.
He released a trapped breath and considered James, evaluating him. If the others hadn't passed his test, it appeared James had.
Riley's jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. "I hate that bastard," he said, "I fucking hate him. So much."
"Prince Maurice?"
Riley glanced at Alex and James chased the movement with his eyes.
"I didn't stop you out of a sense of familial love, James," Riley said, "What you felt, just then— that anguishing, all-encompassing heat of pure and vitriolic hatred; you want to skin him alive, rub glass into his eyes, kill him, slowly and utterly and painfully— is what I feel every time I stand there, in front of him. "
James nodded, understanding.
"I hate him," Riley repeated, hissing through his teeth.
"So, that's why you thought that," James said, thinking about Riley accusing him of having feelings for Alex.
"It could only be the same," Riley concluded.
It all seemed obvious in retrospect. Riley was provocative and wanted to figure out his relationship with Alex, but he'd never actually flung the same insults Alex's way, maybe because he realised Alex was uncomfortable with it.
With James though, who could handle it, he'd been toying with him for fun.
Whilst Fletcher didn't think two men could sincerely love each other, it seemed like Riley had lived through contradictory proof of that widely-held belief.
"Llwyd was the only one who knew about him," Riley continued, struggling to speak.
"He didn't care. He was my friend— until he disappeared, that is.
And then, Simon died, just a few months ago, and I just had to keep it to myself.
Because no one would want to hear about that.
Who the Hell was I supposed to talk to without Llwyd? "
"I'm sorry," James offered, sincerely.
Such words would do nothing to help, though; and that much was clear on the torment on Riley's face.
"I wanted to let you kill him," Riley replied. "I really did."
It was clear that Thomas and Alex weren't following the underlying conversation, but they didn't dare vocalise this.
"It was Prince Maurice, then?" Alex questioned, tentatively.
Riley took a shuffling step back and leaned against the wall, uncomfortable in his own skin.
"I didn't tell Simon why I left. He was one of Prince Edric's guards and trusted me that it was for a good reason.
Gradually, though, he and Prince Edric started to figure out Maurice's plot on their own.
He came across some information that he tried to pass along to me and King William, but he got caught immediately after.
" A breath got caught in Riley's throat, his eyes glistening, but he cocked his head up defiantly.
"Prince Maurice jokes about it, even now. May Moira rest both their souls."
"I had no idea," Fletcher whispered, "how were you able to joke with him like that, knowing what he did?"
"By not sleeping at night," Riley joked, bitterly, the tone sharp enough to prick. "And by promising myself that I would be the one to kill him, one day."
"I'm surprised you haven't already," James remarked.
Even if Riley had been with that man for longer than James had even known Alex, he'd probably go on a murder spree if someone killed Alex, consequences be damned.
He'd done that when his mentor had died and he'd do it again in a heartbeat.
And that was why James was so terrified of connection, it removed his self-preservation.
"I couldn't be too short-sighted," Riley said, "this was bigger than Simon and I. Sure, I could kill Maurice now. And, then what? King Fabian's plan proceeds anyway, and thousands die? Simon wouldn't have wanted that, nor Llwyd, nor Prince Edric. None of them."
There was a lapse of tortured silence and Riley spent a moment composing himself, prepping himself up to plaster that awful smile back onto his face like he wasn't dying inside.
"Let's get out of this shithole, shall we?" he said, the concrete smile contorting his cheeks.
Another opportunity passed for anyone to challenge this, but no one took it. They obediently went along with it like Riley hadn't just torn his heart out for them to see.
"It's dark, but I think we should risk proceeding to Athel's Lynn," Alex suggested, his voice dampened. "We don't want to be in Korcaster for any longer than we can help."
"It should be relatively lit and active along the route," Riley concurred. "Shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours if we're quick about it."
So, they would do that.