Madalin is a member of a royal family that rules over a country named Lysteria. She's brave, bold, smart, yet gentle and caring all the same. The princess dreams of running away from the shackles of a royal life, while her parents try to keep her ca...
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Madalin's Point of View
The two guards standing nearby the palace's entrance visibly paled. The color drained off of their faces when they spotted my limping in their direction. I would have found that comical- hilarious even. But under the current circumstances, nothing besides my plight was funny enough to be laughed at.
Maybe they were unnerved because of my bloodshot eyes, which were peeled wide open. It had been a while since I last blinked. The organs were starting to burn now, and I had to give in and close my eyelids for nothing more than a second.
Perhaps my appearance scared them. My hair was knotted and in a complete disarray. Patches of dirt stuck to me in several different places, but I could argue that the guards looked much filthy.
The cool air of December kissed my bare legs. My teeth would chatter occasionally, and a chill nipped at my back because of the breeze. Of course, this was all because the bottom of my dress was... missing. It was ripped from the knees and below it. A small piece of the fabric was wrapped around the wound of my injured hand, that currently clutched a scrunched up ball of paper. A deep red stained the middle of my palm and had even transferred to the letter.
My other hand held onto Hadrian's sword. Tightly. Oh so tightly. And that wasn't even the worst part.
The remaining of my gown's skirt was floating behind me. Four guards, each holding onto a corner of cloth, walked behind me, their visual condition just as bad as mine. That was mostly because of my attempts at fleeing from their hold.
And on top of my ripped dress, lay the scorched corpse.
Whose corpse? Hadr- I didn't know. I didn't even know why I had cried until my eyes dried up, or why I had screamed until my throat was scraped. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost my voice.
Hadrian's gon-
I still wondered where he was. In a balcony just yesterday, he had insisted on meeting Evans in my place to find out the rebel leader's identity. He had been concerned about my safety, with the notion that rebels couldn't be trusted. It had been a very long time since he left. I was starting to get concerned.
The two guards pushed at the doors to let me enter. Their horrified stares landed upon their colleagues behind me, and none of them returned the gazes. Their eyes were trained on the floor, and their hands trembled as they carried the casket made from the remains of my dress.
"Call His and Her Majesties." I heard from behind me, followed by the thuds of a guard as he ran past me.
I could tell that my muddied shoes stained the pristine floor of the palace. My eyes fell to the ground, getting entranced at the brown blotches on the pearl-white tiles.
