The Sword Of A Princess

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The more time that passed, the more I wanted to suffocate the future King by the throat and hang him from the tower by his toes- reluctantly, I restrained myself.

I only spoke to Arthur when he asked me something, I barley looked at him when he came into the room. I could only make myself ignore him. The most I spoke was to Clare, and the others on occasion when they weren't busy dealing with the war. I had quite a lot of time to write letters to my family, the words I wrote always made my chest feel lighter. The only time I ever felt any proper emotion was receiving one in return, listening to my mother's love and my brothers ridiculous stories. He had quite a circle of friends now that he was a knight and I was jealous.

I had come to realise there were two kinds of torture- the physical type and the psychological type. I had gone from the first right into the latter with not a moment to spare.

Being back here in Britannia felt like the glamourous version of the year I had spent inside that rotting cell. Worse off, I was injured, again- unable to do anything until I had more strength. Any time my mind went to Lionel I struggled to reassure myself he was still alive.

Was this how everyone else felt when Lionel and I went missing? All the dread and anxiety building up until it feels like there is no hope left to lean on. Then you just let go and accept the worst, knowing it would be easier to know they're gone, rather than suffering for all this time. It does seem like the easiest option.

Everyone had given up on saving us before- I wouldn't give up on him this time. I wouldn't let that happen again.

The moment I felt no pain getting in and out of bed, I began training again. Two more companies of recruits had gone through training and left for the front lines as knights.

Hundreds of women and men from the age of sixteen, anyone of able body- farmers, artists, bakers, teachers and more, doctors were reserved to treat the wounded and young children waited for the day they would see their families again. Most taking refuge at schools with those who could not fight, or returned wounded.

All the dead- thousands among thousands of bodies were buried behind the city in a mass graveyard, one that only kept growing as the weeks passed.

I trained with half of the people whose names were now on a memorial plaque.

Summer had long passed, turning into Autumn, almost another full year that Lionel would have spent trapped in the West. The Postradore Empire were strong, although, the more numbers we picked up from the Draft, the more of a standstill the front lines became.
The only win that had occurred in the last five years was the North pushing down and breaking through three of the main Western bases along the border. Being able to shrink the size of the war by even a little gave the South more aid from the North. More reserve platoons had come to help.

The last letter I had written to my family was also rather significant- my brother would be on his way to Britannia.

I had done enough enduring, winter was around the corner and the war only kept raging on.

"Your Highness, the King has requested your presence in the throne room." Clare spoke at my side as I sipped my tea, I lowered my book into my lap and looked up at the maid.

There could only be one reason Eugene asked for me these days. Thrall and Kalec had finally been found. It had taken months to find the two hunters, skilled as they were it was difficult to find tracks and spare the knights to search for them.

I placed my tea down on its saucer and the book beside it on the table.

"Thank you Clare."

As I walked out of the sunroom, I spotted Nate walking up the staircase with a gentleman at his side. They both nodded over in my direction and continued walking upwards. Angus was an old friend of the Princes', though they seemed more like partners than friends. I was glad the quiet son of the King had someone he could be close to while the rest of us left prepared for war.