Something With a Prince

Chapter Fifty-Four: Throne of a Soldier

Arlyn

We arrived at the camp just twelve hours later after leaving and had been here for nearly two days. Our frontlines were failing, bringing home more bodies than victories, and I couldn't tell which started to affect me more. It was a disaster, warped by blood, sweat, and mud. Thick, cold, putrid mud that seemed to coat everything. I had come back from surveying the trenches just an hour ago, but instead of staying to fight, I was practically pushed from the front lines. That pissed me off indefinitely.

Rai insisted I was better off in camp, where I could lead, make decisions, but that was no place for me. My body should always go before theirs. That is what I vowed to do. Not sit in a tent and stress about how those men and women were sleeping, if they were safe, if there was a surprise attack coming, if Dominic was going to show up like a ghost in the middle of the night and slit my throat. If Cassida would be right behind him, smiling, waiting to press her hands into my blood like trying on new gloves.

Her letter would suggest otherwise. Still, she's changed her mind before.

Camp was silent as everyone was pretty much sleeping by now. The only ones awake were either on guard, or in the healing tent. No doubt Rosemary was working tirelessly to aid the wounded. Elleanor pouring over the assortment of plants and remedies and chemistry. I told her I would dress her with armor myself...and it seemed she would not take any other answer. Niklaus disowned her for it and Elleanor shrugged. Then she packed her bags and was on the wagon with Rosemary.

I haven't questioned her about it, but there was a part of her that would shine through every now and again. Usually when she thought we weren't looking, Elleanor would grow somber, and her hands would slow...then she'd shake her head, clear her throat, and get back to work. Her sisters, no doubt, were the cause of this. No one dared talk about her mother or father to her, but every now and again, I could hear Rosemary and her whispering, or chuckling. That seemed to help. We haven't talked much since this started, but I hoped tomorrow I would get a chance before going back out. Our last defenses were posted to leave at dawn, and I would be with them.

Pulling myself up off my cot, I went over to the table pouring over with maps and details. I had already memorized them, but they had become my new window. My hands shook as I brushed them over all the pins and inky failings. The rustling of my tent snagged my focus, and before I could process exactly what I was seeing, my eyes were welling up. She dropped everything and raced across the tent, pulling me into a hug.

"You never listen." A tear fell from my eye as I pulled her body into mine tightly.

She laughed quietly, pushing her arms around my neck, "I know." Thea shook a little as her laughs turned to little sobs, "Sorry I'm late. I had to see mama first, she caught me as I entered camp."

After a moment, I pulled away and wiped away her tears, then my own. "When the messenger came back and said you weren't there... I thought--" My eyes snagged on her face as she came more into the light of the candles, and I was stunned into silence. Her eye was beaten up into a swollen mound of green and blue, and there were tiny little cuts all over her face. "What happened to you? Where is Lansing?"

She rolled her big blue eyes, "Don't even get started on my appearance, okay, it is the last thing on my mind. Lansing is safe, just like you asked. I left him this morning in the care of Clive and Delphie." Her gaze dropped a little and she wrinkled her face, "Who are you to talk to me about appearance anyway? Don't they have razors Tuisedor anymore?"

"Um," I scoffed, rubbing my beard self-consciously, "First of all, it is not that bad, it's in progress, and secondly, I've been a little busy."

"Still." She raised her eyebrows, "You could at least shave. You look like you have mange."