Time's Up

Written by Olivia Dehart and Natalya Seroshtan

"Come on Ella!" Evangeline says excitedly, her dark hair flowing in the wind behind her as she runs.

"Why do you insist on stalking him?" I call after her as I try to catch up. I pull the skirt of my peasant dress up to almost my knees as my feet make the town fly by.

I pass a woman carrying a basket of grain on her head. "Pardon me," I say after I do so, my golden locks flying in my eyes.

The woman smiles and shakes her head and I continue running, my feet hitting the hard ground with each step down the side of the road.

"Who is sick madam?" I hear Mr. Cotton, older man who owns the book shop call.

"It's Eve again," I say as I look over my shoulder at him when I pass.

"No more explanation required."

I laugh and huff as I continue to run after her.

At last I catch up to where shouts are heard and trumpets are played. The arena.

Eve and I open a cloth flap on the build of the wooden benches that tower higher for the citizens to watch as we hear the sound of horse's hooves against the ground.

"Ladies and Lords I announce Prince Adimund Blackwood!" the announcer calls out into the clusters of people gathered for the show.

Evangeline's eyes sparkle with delight as we peer through the fabric at Prince Adimund, or as he is known to most women of Hollington-including my friend-, Prince Charming. He rides his royal horse and clutches its reins as it whinnies with its front hooves in the air.

A helmet covers his face which is rare but if we wore none then he would probably be fatally wounded after this. It matters not. His ego glows through the steel as he holds his lance high, the people cheering... and by "people" I mean mostly "women".

I can tell my expression shows disgust at his presentation. Why must he be so stuck up?

The flags are lowered and the two tributes race towards each other, the thunder of the hooves silencing the crowd.

It takes only a few seconds for them to stampede together on either side of the fence with the lances pointed out in front of them.

As they clash a breaking of the wooden rods sends pieces from where they connected into the air and the crowds shout once more.

"Adimund victory!" the stout man on the wooden platform yells joyfully.

The people cheer with glee and I roll my eyes.

Evangeline is smiling with interest.

"Eve please I must be back-"

She shushes me as the prince lifts his face guard to reveal a sweaty but usually perfect face. He pets his steed on the side of the neck and hands his squire the broken lance.

But I have had enough of the rotten prince. There is more for this kingdom he could be doing than showing off in jousting tournaments. This place is falling to famine and the king will not help. There is much the prince could do for the people... But he does nothing...