Peanut Butter Fingerprints

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Knight in Shining Armor"

~•~

"The art of love is largely the art of persistence."

-Albert Ellis

~•~

Maxon

THE SKY WAS FAR TOO BEAUTIFUL for such a chaotic day. Whereas I expected gray, swirling storm clouds, I found instead a breathtaking array of sherbet-like colors smeared across the horizon. A few puffy clouds scattered here and there were rimmed with an orange that seemed to be glowing.

I wondered if America was watching the same sun set, and suddenly hoped that she wasn't. She should have been in the Royal safe room with Aspen, Lucy, Marlee, and Carter. Though this sunset was unforgettable, there would always be one tomorrow, and the day after that. One sunset wasn't worth her life.

Everyone hopped off of the plane after the back panel was lowered into a makeshift ramp down to the ground. A gust of brisk wind cut into my face as I made my way out of the plane. The air was chilly due to it being near the end of December, but the thick army jacket and pants kept me for the most part warm. I heard Isabelle squeal something rather vulgar in French as the wind hit her face, and I bit my lip not to chuckle. It was odd to hear a seemingly innocent girl like Isabelle curse like that.

Numbly, we formed two lines and marched towards the Palace with August in front of me and Isabelle following behind me. As I observed the faces under the camouflage helmets, I realized that many of these so called soldiers were just kids. Some of them looked too young to even have a job, let alone be fighting in a war. A part of me ached when I realized that most of these kids wouldn't return home to France; most of them would enter the Palace and never leave.

I had heard a girl behind Isabelle say that Fredrick was already in the Palace, but I doubted that he'd be stupid enough to put himself in any kind of danger. The coward was probably hiding somewhere nearby until this whole thing was over, so if he lost, he could escape without being caught. Though, I didn't think he'd last long outside of the comforts of a palace; the moment an Illéan spotted him, he was good as dead.

After walking for a few miles, we finally neared the Palace. The sun was nearly set by then, and the sky had exchanged its vibrant colors for a faded blue. A few stars peeked out in between scattered clouds, and the moon was just beginning to show. I assumed it was around dinnertime, since night came sooner during the winter. My temple was already throbbing, and we weren't even within a mile of the Palace. I could tell this was going to be a long night.

"I wonder if any of these kids will make it back home for Christmas morning," I muttered to Isabelle as she moved closer to me so that she could avoid the wind.

"No one will make it back in time for Christmas morning. Even if we left on a flight for France now, it would already be evening by the time we arrived," she replied bleakly.

Her words sank in as our boots stomped over muddy grass.

"Wait... Today is-?" I began.

"Christmas Eve," she finished. "Back home, I would be baking until sunrise. Instead, I'm fighting my fiancé in a war neither of us should be in."

I frowned as we made our way over the hill that bordered the east side of the Palace. This was no way to celebrate Christmas. This year was supposed to be special; it was my fifth Christmas with America. Whereas I predicted we'd be going on a short vacation to our lake house in Whites, we were instead in the middle of a war with a previously allied country.

"At least you get to see your fiance for Christmas," I reminded her.

Isabelle shrugged as we approached the open Palace gates. She squinted against the harsh evening sunlight, and looked up at the Palace doors with glossy eyes.