The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

The Urchin

Braving the cold for two slices of last night's margarita pizza.

Whose genius idea had that been?

James Braden rushed to the grand staircase leading into the white foyer. Ward's bare feet slapped the marble behind him. The frigid floors sent little shocks of cold up James's legs.

Stupid house. He'd protested the move. Loudly. But no. Only Ward's opinions mattered and when asked, Ward had shrugged and said moving house would be for the better. Ward wasn't even a Braden! James's parents were only his guardians.

James muttered a few soft curses, letting them out in a string of foggy breath. His feet touched the third step from the top when a knock at the door echoed through the cavernous foyer.

The new butler hustled to the door and opened it. James and Ward stopped on the staircase to see who entered.

James Braden, Sr. trudged in, weighed down with shopping bags. This looked promising. It could be the new iPod James wanted. Or maybe even a new games console.

"Do check on my wife," his father said to the butler and lowered his voice confidentially. "She went mad with her shopping today."

James shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting to be noticed. Ward's brows lifted just a fraction.

The butler hurried out and returned toting about twenty bags from designer boutiques.

Mad indeed. James glanced at Ward when the butler dropped the bags and went out for another load.

"Whoa," Ward breathed, "Diana did some serious shopping."

James Sr. glanced up at them—or more specifically, at Ward. James gripped the frigid balustrade.

"You boys ready for school?" James Sr. asked Ward.

James's knuckles whitened.

"Yes, sir," he interjected before Ward had a chance to reply.

His father finally looked at his own son. The butler hurried in with yet another load of bags. More women's labels.

James could hear his mother behind the man, chatting away with someone else. On her cell phone?

Diana Braden breezed in like a queen walking into her domain. No bags. No phone. She turned her head and spoke to someone behind her. An urchin in an oversized and faded jersey followed her into the foyer.

Another charity case then.

James frowned and resumed his search for one bag that might be for him. Maybe he missed it.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him of his original mission. He nudged Ward and took a step down. The motion drew his mother's gaze and she beamed up at them. An unnamed fear settled in the pit of James's stomach. His mother never looked at both of them. Her focus always zoomed in on Ward.

What had she done?

"Oh good," she said. "I was about to find you. How are you doing?"

"Fine, and you?" Ward answered for them both.

James scrutinized the street urchin standing behind his mother. It didn't move. Not to leave. Not to go to the kitchen. Not even to fidget. It just stood there, face turned down, with its sleeves hanging limply past its hands. The jersey and the dull, frizzy hair obscured any indication of the urchin's gender, but James got the feeling it was a girl. His parents clearly didn't mind her loitering in their pristine white foyer. Usually they'd give the charity cases food and send them off without letting them in. Except for Ward. Ward had come for a visit when he and James were eight. He'd never left.

James's insides went cold.

"I'm fine, thank you, dear," his mother said. "James."

He snapped his attention back to her. "Yes, Mother?"

"You two come down here quickly. I want you to meet your sister." 

Ooh... ouch. Anyone else sensing problems in James's future? Thoughts about James? Let me know in the comments! And don't forget to vote!