The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

Nightmares and Uniforms

James stood in his previous house in Cumbria. It was an old place, but homey. It used to be the only place he knew. He walked to the kitchen, drinking in his surroundings. Everything was softer here. Comfortable. Loving.

Damn. He missed this place like a lost arm. The door to the kitchen creaked just as he remembered. He stepped in and went to the bay window. Gray light flooded through the glass, dimmed slightly by snow.

Jenna was out on the lake, skating.

A hoarse scream burst out of him. He sprinted out the back door. The lake wasn't safe. Ahead of him, she laughed softly, her golden hair waving in the air as she skated faster.

She wore the same outfit as the day she'd died. Same black jacket. Same bright blue scarf. She was still eight.

James's heart tumbled. He ran onto the ice and grabbed hold of her, frowning because she was so much shorter than him now. It wasn't right, him being sixteen now when his twin never aged.

Jenna beamed up at him. "Do you remember?"

Of course he remembered. Not really easy to forget when he was the one who'd caused her death.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

Her smile faded and she pulled back more. "No. Do you remember?"

James gasped, stepping towards her. This time, he wouldn't let her go. "Come on, Jen. Let's just go inside."

She shook her head, her hazel eyes shining with tears. The ice cracked like thunder beneath their feet. They plunged into the frigid abyss.

James heaved himself out of the nightmare and pushed his face into his pillow to muffle his scream. He drew a shaking breath. Dust invaded his mouth, forming a layer of mud on his tongue. He gulped in air. Ormaraen Castle was far, far away from the old house in Cumbria. Jenna's been dead for eight years. He couldn't save her any more now than he could then.

He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. So typical. His nightmares would come back to haunt him now. He'd been beaten on. He'd almost drowned. Sort of. He'd managed to cause Callan's death just as surely as he'd done Jenna's. His brain was probably punishing him for being a total asshole. Wouldn't surprise him.

His breathing slowed. Once he calmed, his body and face throbbed to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He sat up slowly, careful not to jolt himself too much. The packed earth floor cooled his feet.

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Only the sleeping soldiers' breaths stirred the air. He'd be a lot calmer if he knew last night would be his only run-in with Grindor. But Grindor wasn't the type to give up. Not when he had to flaunt his dominance over everyone.

James sighed and got out of bed. He glanced around. One of his eyes hadn't swollen completely shut, so he could see the faint light coming through the window.

He went to it, despite the shiver shooting up his spine. Unlike his dream, orange light grew in the navy sky, promising the start of another day. At least he wouldn't be staring at the bottom of a bunk for the rest of the night. He carefully stretched the kinks out of his muscles.

On top of last night's beating, his mattress had been lumpy.

Phipps probably slept on silk. Clean silk. James blinked and sand scratched his eyes.

A soldier carrying a horn strode in, put it to his mouth and gave three discordant blasts. They rang in James's ears long after they ended. Soldiers scrambled up, babbling in unison and making their beds. James glanced up to Ward. Sure enough, Ward frantically copied them. James sighed and went back to his bed to straighten it out, working through the jabs of pain his movements caused.

Thirty seconds later, the soldiers slid down bunk ladders worn smooth by long use. Ward received a few curses before he made way for those in the bunks above him. Men bolted out the door—some while pulling on rust-colored shirts and brown boots.

The soldier with the horn turned to James and Ward. "You've been ordered to be kitted out. Follow me." He marched out the barracks without them.

They pulled on their booties and jogged after him. He led them into the equipment building. Shelves stacked with clothes and heaps of boots stretched out before them. After that lay mounds of targets and dummies resembling scarecrows. They had holes and slashes in their clothes where their grassy innards poked out.

Phipps waited for them at the end of the aisle, already in a much fancier uniform than James had seen anywhere. Phipps looked like a knight, his bronze breastplate shining beneath his full-length rust-colored cloak. With his upright posture, he acted like one too.

Living the high life, just as expected. All while James had to deal with Grindor and substandard sleeping arrangements. He glowered at Phipps while the soldier led them to him. The soldier bowed and left without a word.

Phipps busied himself with the clothes on the shelf behind him, ignoring James and Ward. James squinted at him. Phipps looked younger again. His hair had lost some more white.

The old man did a double take once he actually saw James. "What happened to you?"

Ward opened his mouth.

"Nothing," James cut in, sending him a warning glare. "Just a night of fun."

"Looks painful."

He shrugged. "You should see the other guy."

Phipps shook his head and handed each of them an identical bundle. Dust spread out around them, dancing in the sunlight. James didn't need another invitation to get out of his rags.

His skin thanked him when he yanked off his shirt. He didn't even care when Phipps scowled at the bruises covering his torso. The new shirt's rust-red material wasn't exactly satin, but at least it didn't itch. It smelt of dust, a vast improvement over wet dog and a move up, even if his uniform fell far short in the food chain compared to Phipps's.

Almost unbelievable that such informal, loose clothing could be uniform. The other soldiers in the barracks had worn exactly the same, though. Just the long, loose shirt with dark brown pants and boots.

On finishing his inspection, Phipps nodded. "Right. You two have to hurry to get some food. After that, you fall in with the soldiers and do whatever the drill-master tells you. Any questions?"

"Yes, actually," James said, "I thought you were going to train us?"

Phipps's smile spelled doom. "Oh that will come later. Now go on. Get food. Otherwise, you're going to suffer."

They left the equipment area together. Phipps returned to the keep after seeing them to the cafeteria door.

"I'm thinking we'll suffer whether we eat or not," Ward muttered, echoing James's thoughts. "Especially you."

"Yeah." James kept his focus on Phipps's back. "Whatever. Let's just go eat."

Thanks for reading, everyone! Think James will have a peaceful breakfast? Let me know in the comments, or just let me know what you think of the story so far. 

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