LXVI
"Please, enjoy what this event has to offer! The Straton duchy behests it!"
The speech went well thanks to Mererid's faux confidence. Alex watched from the fringes as she'd taken a place on the pedestal. Her voice carried, capturing the large crowd with that charming melodic accent, many becoming enamoured with her.
Afterwards, attendees approached Mererid continuously like a swollen stream, asking after the duke's health. She'd done well in waving away the concern whilst never quite providing a real answer. She'd handled it more naturally than Alex could've.
People swarmed the event in excessive numbers. Alex couldn't maintain his personal space under the sheer volume of the mob, constantly being pushed by warm bodies. It made the muggy heat more unbearable.
Unlike Alex, the attendees hardly seemed to notice their torrid bodies oiled with sweat.
They were in good cheer, drinking themselves silly and tripping over nothing.
The baked grass underneath them had been torn to shreds by the hundreds of feet that had passed over it.
Nearby, some women were picking cherries from a tree, biting into the red flesh and using the fruit's wound to stain their lips and cheeks red.
Cherry.
Wary of scrutiny, Alex quickly slipped away to pursue his own goals, leaving Mererid and Riley with a few of the duke's guards.
As Alex stood among the horde of people, he found it difficult to shuffle past their bodies smoothly.
The kludged flow that others seemed to naturally navigate had never been something he'd learnt.
He felt bulky and out of place, like a rocky stack bodying an otherwise sandy coastline.
The waves' rhythm was disrupted by his very being, just as he felt the people around him were.
Although people looked twice at him as he passed by in his search for the widows, he'd mostly been spared their scrutiny. The excitement of the first jousting match had bloated among the crowd and stolen all their attention, providing him with an overcrowded anonymity.
He'd searched assiduously but, unfortunately, he hadn't been lucky. He couldn't find them.
When he returned to Mererid and Riley later on, he was alarmed to find them also without company. The two stood alone under fabric shelter at the edges of the paddock, the duke's guards lingering nearby.
"Lady Nora hasn't met here?" he asked.
Mererid shook her head. "I haven't seen her at all. Not even in passing."
Another person approached her then, asking after her father. Her smile returned as she chatted with them, her bravado ironclad. Alex and Riley shared a grim look.
"I couldn't find any of the widows," Alex admitted after the stranger had left. "Do you think, perhaps, Lady Nora decided to skip this one? Perhaps she drank too much yesterday...?"
"She'd never, nor does she drink excessively. She puts money on jousting. This event should be her favourite."
Alex hesitated, scanning the attendees as they cheered. "No sign of Prince Fabian either?"
"He's not here," Riley said. "I haven't seen him, but his presence would excite the crowds. It would be obvious."
"This is... concerning."
Mererid started to look worried. "I just don't understand. She should be here."
It was rare to see authenticity from Riley but, just then, his concern was palpable. His gaze kept fixing on the direction of the duke's villa in the distance.
"I think we should go back," Riley suggested. "I know we have yet to locate the widows but I'm worried."
Alex gave the crowd one last drag of the eyes. "Let's go," he agreed.
Back at the villa, the guards at the gates were edgy. They darted around, conveying messages to each other in a chain by word of mouth. There were more stationed around the high fencing than the previous day.
"What happened?" Alex immediately asked, approaching the gate
In his panic, he'd forgotten that these were Theos guards and he had zero authority over them. So, naturally, they refused to answer, sharing tense looks.
"Tell me," Mererid tried.
But, they shook their heads. "I'm sorry, my lady. You must ask His Grace directly."
Past the gate, they raced under the shadows of the trees that lined their path, Alex tried to swallow down his heavy heart, refusing to allow its thrashing pace to rattle him. His judgement needed to remain untainted.
The door slammed open as they bouldered their way through the villa's entrance, it juddered as it rebounded. Alex's pace didn't slow, not even as he marched up to a wide-eyed Duke Straton lingering at the bottom of the staircase with Thomas.
"What happened?" he demanded, stopping only a hair's width away. The duke shuffled back a step, startled by his sudden appearance.
His tone was patient but tight. "You're going to have to calm yourself."
"Don't play games with me," Alex hissed. "You'll tell me right this instant."
"It wasn't something that the duke did," Thomas quickly interjected. "We're fine right now."
"Right now? Only right now?"
The duke grimaced. "Prince Maurice and Lady Nora stopped by briefly. They requested an audience for later to ensure I'm feeling well. And..." The duke lowered his voice. "I believe Prince Maurice wishes to check up on me."
Alex's teeth gave a low creak in warning from how hard he ground his jaw. "When?"
"Tonight."
"Shit," Alex cursed. He stepped away, his back hunched, hands restless. He pushed his hair back before clumping it in his fingers, pulling on his scalp.
It was too much. Harrison's arrival was uncertain, as was the duke's loyalty to their plan. Alex was drowning in the very real danger that pulled him from dread to anguish. He couldn't handle this on his own. It wasn't feasible.
Thomas' voice picked him out of his spiral. "Riley."
Riley glared. "What?"
Thomas shook his head and the exchange between the two men ended there. Whatever Thomas had seen, Alex had missed it.
"Why don't we keep Dad upstairs and I'll host them?" Mererid suggested.
"That'll be suspicious," Riley was quick to contradict. "Not to mention, it would be impossible to hide that our group has been staying here. This whole situation is going to seem ridiculously suspicious and guilty."
Alex pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, staving off his panic with a little pain. Riley was correct. The moment that Prince Maurice stepped a foot through the door, they'd become suspects.
"And we can't just hide you all?"
"No," Alex said. "We've already caught one spy in this place, and she wasn't even Prince Maurice's. We'd caught her by chance. There will be more, and some will belong to him. Hiding us would kill us all."
One person had already died in this villa. How could Alex stop that number from growing more considering the circumstances he was in? He was their leader, it was his job to keep them safe.
His body went cold, the realisation collapsing around him; he was going to fail.
Shouting erupted then, trembling from the guards outside, loud enough for them to hear. His heart sank.
"They're not here already?" Thomas said, genuine fear hollowing his words.
Alex wanted to cry. It wasn't fair. They didn't even have a plan yet.
A straggled Fletcher appeared at the top of the stairs, panting heavily. Yufus was alert, following him. "Something is happening outside."
"Could you see?" Alex asked.
"No. Trees are blocking the way."
Some guards rushed in, then. "Your Grace, there is a disturbance that desperately needs your attention—"
Alex pushed past them, marching outside.
He wouldn't cease yet. He wasn't dead yet.
Even if his heart had resigned itself, Alex's body would keep going until it broke.
He was dragged along, every time, even if he screamed and cried against it.
He was still a slave to his body's desperation to survive.
"Alex!" Thomas called after him.
"Keep the duke here," he ordered, not turning back.
"What do you even expect to do over there?"
Alex gritted his teeth, unable to answer. What would he do? He had no idea.
Quick footsteps crunched in the gravel, reaching for him from behind.
"Stay there!" he barked.
In the chaos, Thomas wasn't the only one who ignored his orders. Numerous gaits rattled up a choir, backing the panicked shouts of guards, the air disturbed.
Someone tried to pull him back, but he refused to be stopped.
He would go to the gate and he would be forced to make something up.
He wouldn't take the threat kneeling. Never.
He could hardly hear their concerned protests that chased him over the increasingly noisy guards. He would fix it. He had to fix it.
"You're not thinking straight!" Riley's voice boomed. Alex ignored it.
He pried the crowd of guards apart, pushing his way through the cracks. For them to be this agitated, it meant that something had already gone severely wrong.
A good general was never the last one standing. Thomas, Riley, Fletcher; none of them were allowed to die before him. No more death. He wouldn't allow it.
In the crowd, his friends' attempts to stop him slipped away, their paths blocked.
Their voices became drowned out and Alex had crossed the boundary between cowardness and gallancy.
Like the heavy weight of a mattock in his hand, this time his sword was by his side, and he knew he'd remain defiant until the end, just like before.
He broke through, his bare skin scraped where it'd grazed against the guards' armour.
He drew his sword, a familiar numb acceptance capturing him amongst the discord.
It was the only coherent piece of him, so he clung to it.
He was ready to face the threat. He honed in on the danger, ready to throw everything away for his people.
His breath stuttered.
The clamour seemed to quiet as he slowly blinked, frozen in place. The noise, the aggression, it all took a back seat to the sight before him. He blinked again and again to ensure he was seeing right.
"Sheathe your swords this instance!" the duke bellowed, cutting through the commotion. "That man is one of ours!"
James slowly released the woman he'd held against his chest, abandoning his human shield as the guards tentatively calmed.
She dropped to the floor with a thud. Despite the sharp blades surrounding him, James' sights were trained on Alex.
Those red eyes seemed duller than usual, dark bags underlining them. He looked tired.
He smiled slightly and Alex's chest wrung inwards, rendering him unable to breathe. It hurt. Physical pain kneaded him, his heart sinking. Why?
Even as the duke dispersed the guards, James remained still, waiting. Nothing happened. It was like there was an ocean of no man's land stretching out between them that neither would cross.
Alex drank down the sight of him. By James' feet, two middle-aged women were hunched in on themselves on the ground, tied up but seemingly unharmed. James scratched the back of his neck. He traded his weight from one leg to the other, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.
"James," Alex stated. It came out quiet.
James smiled again. It was wavering, nervous. "Hi. Honey."
It wasn't a conscious decision. Alex stepped forward, each stride more leaden than the last. His body hardened, his spirit steaming. He reached James and smashed his fist into his face.
Knocked off balance, James stumbled backwards and went down easily. His face showed no pain, no emotion. Alex seethed, hot rage replacing the cold. His hands trembled from it.
"You fucking bastard," Alex growled, breathing heavily, barely holding himself back. "You stupid fucking bastard. How dare you!"
James didn't respond and Alex snapped again.
He launched himself at James, pinning him to the ground with his whole weight.
He wanted to kill this man. He latched onto James' neck with both hands, pressing all his weight into his palms, wanting to crush James' windpipe.
He finally got a reaction. James spluttered, his throat struggling to cough, wheezing in, unable to get enough air.
Finally, James was wincing. He was hurting.
"I fucking hate you!" Alex roared, tightening his grip. "You stupid prick..."
The bite in his words melted, washing away pathetically.
James didn't fight him. He stared up with those creased cherry eyes, his face blotched in red, there was no emotion on his face, no anger, only pain. Not once did he try to fight back.
Alex eased off, letting go. James immediately hacked, coughing and spluttering, croaking in as much air as he could.
"You came back," Alex observed.
James massaged his throat, trying to clear it still, his breathing tight and ragged. Even though it must've been uncomfortable, he didn't seem mad at Alex. Alex scrutinised him for a few moments more. In the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas and Riley haul the women up and guide them away.
"I came back," James confirmed, finally, simply.
Another surge of anger swelled and Alex brought his fist back for another punch but he stopped, flexing his fingers as it remained in the air. He dropped it, the rage deflating, jumbling into a mess of emotions that couldn't seem to decide what they wanted to be. It was potent, whatever it was.
James looked up at him, waiting for a verdict. The light of the sun caught his hair and lashes like glaring gold, his sunkissed skin glowing, despite its weariness. His body was warm and firm underneath Alex's, pliant. He was beautiful. Alex hated him.
Alex pulled James by the collar of his shirt and bruised their mouths together, crushing their faces in a punishing kiss. It tasted like blood from James' newly split lip and it hurt. Alex let go of him just as quickly. He crawled off his lap to sit beside him, unsure what to make of himself.
James resigned himself to lie in the dirt, his head back, one knee up, regaining his breath and recovering from Alex's assault. Alex scrubbed his face harshly, trying to get a grip.
The guards had mostly dispersed already.
The ones that remained were distracted in hushed tones, talking with the duke.
There were no signs of the two women James had brought with him.
The others stood a fair distance away with Mererid and Yusuf, their eyes darting in their direction every other beat.
They were probably wary of the real possibility of Alex and James killing each other.
A few moments passed and James pulled himself up, grunting in pain, sitting upright, thumbing his sore lip.
"I'm asking because I don't know," James prefaced. "Are you angry because I left, or because I came back?"
"Shut up."
James nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. And it was genuine.
Alex fixed his eyes to the ground. He didn't know what to think.
"Why?" he heard himself ask. Until it had come out, he hadn't realised the question had been burning in his chest. "Why did you come back?"
He watched as James blew out a long breath, leaning his face against his hand, his elbow propped on his bent knees.
"Don't look at me like that," James replied. "I didn't come back because of you."
Alex wondered what expression he was making for James to have said that. Was it guilt? Accusation?
"Then... how come?"
Despite the chaotic violence that had preluded that moment, a calming and peaceful breeze brushed by, softly caressing his skin. The birds chirped, dedicating their songs to one another within the rustling leaves. No one had died. It was safe.
James hesitated in his answer. Alex had never witnessed him to be so unsure of himself.
"I quickly remembered; the silence was painful.
I found myself in a field with nobody around and— well, I can't say I've ever enjoyed my life before.
I've been running away for so long that I couldn't consider a world where I wasn't being hunted down.
One where I wasn't alone. Ironically, the most fun I'd ever had was with you guys.
" James' smile was tepid. "It's not a thing I ever thought about. "
Alex's heart weighed heavily. James was a deeply wounded man.
"The only person whose presence was consistent to me was my brother," James continued, his voice breaking into a croak.
"He's the only one I have left. My brother.
I think... I ran for so long that I eventually forgot what I was running from.
It was always about him. Everything. It always had been.
He did all of those things— and I never came to terms with it all. "
James' hand dropped from his face. He looked Alex dead in the eye. "He's going to die, Alex. Fabian is going to die. No matter what I do. And this is my last chance to ever ask him 'why?' Just, why?"
Alex reached for him then. There was nothing aggressive in his touch as he wrapped his arms around James, pulling him in. James didn't move from his position but, after a cold beat, he buried his face into Alex's neck, melting.
"I'm sorry," Alex said.
"I know," James replied, his breath hot on his skin. "You were the one who let me go."
It was painful. Alex had asked him the question before; did James love his brother? The answer had always been an obvious one, even if neither of them had realised it until now. And it was tragic.
"Tell me something," Alex murmured, remembering what Riley had said. "Tell me what you're most scared of."
He cupped the back of James' head, tangling his hand in James' soft and knotted hair, grounding himself. James resisted then and Alex immediately released him, granting him space. Rather than side by side, this time, Alex sat in front of him.
"I told you this before, you know," James answered wryly. "You just didn't believe me."
"Of course I didn't."
James snorted, although his eyes were sad. "Connection," he admitted. "More than torture, more than death."
Alex had been wrong. He'd projected his own desires onto James and had punished him because of it. What James wanted the most had never been freedom, it had always been human warmth. Freedom was simply the avoidance.
"I was angry because you came back," Alex confessed. "Even if we have different versions of what it means. It is the single most important thing to me. When I saw you came back, I despised you for throwing it away. I won't grant it to you a second time."
James nodded, allowing the explanation. "I don't think there is such a thing anymore, you know. Not really. People aren't supposed to live drifting from place to place. That's not freedom. It's not good for the soul."
Alex wasn't sure where the adamance in James' words had come from but he didn't question it.
James took one last look at him and then stood, coughing into his fist. Alex winced, apologetic.
James grinned through the discomfort, bullying the mood into changing.
He forced a lightness into the air, even if it was jilted.
"But, hey. Cheer up. I know you didn't let me go selflessly.
You have a fetish for self-sacrifice and I wasn't going to allow you the masochistic pleasure of martyring yourself. "
Alex sighed although the corners of his lips quirked up in a slight smile.
James' assessment wasn't entirely a joke and Alex couldn't reasonably rebut it.
He took the hand that James offered him and James pulled him up to his feet with remarkable strength.
He patted Alex on the shoulder as they stood face to face, the touch lingering.
James was back. He was right in front of him. Alex felt his body relax, warming pleasantly under the skin. With James here, they stood a chance. He'd missed him.
"Come, I brought some presents with me."
"That's dangerous," Alex drily remarked.
James shrugged flippantly before strolling past him, grinning widely as he approached their friends.
"Did you miserable lot miss me?"
Fletcher bounded up to him, his expression wavering between a glare and elation. "James!"
James playfully pretended to punch him before messing up his hair. Fletcher swatted his hands around, trying to defend himself from the mock assault, unsuccessfully. At the very least, he seemed happier.
"You're an idiot," Riley stated, with utmost seriousness.
"You're ugly even with a haircut," James retorted. "I've already had the 'you're an idiot' talk, alright? Instead, I want to see some celebration of my return. I come bearing gifts."
Thomas stifled a smile. "Your return is a pity."
"Twat," James lightly accused.
Mererid eyed him warily but confidently approached him nonetheless. She stuck her hand out. "You are James? I'm Mererid, Duke Straton's daughter."
James, with a gentle hold, bowed down and brought her hand up to his lips. "Lady Mererid. It's a pleasure. We've had yet to meet. I'm Julian. Prince Julian."
Her eyes widened and she took a small step back, jerking her hand out of his grip, confused. "Prince Julian?"
James smiled gracefully.
The public confession sent a message and Alex received it clearly. James was back for good and there was no turning back for him. He was ensnaring himself irreparably. His existence was going to be known.
Even if James had told Alex that he wasn't a significant reason for his return, he couldn't help but recognise the lie for what it was.
Alex had irresponsibly given him human warmth and now James couldn't bear to part from it.
His lonely obsessiveness clung to it like a lifeline.
And although Alex wasn't the only reason he came back, he was certainly a chunk of it.
James' return was partly his fault.