| Halt's Ranger Apprentices | This is War | Volume 2 |

CHAPTER TWLEVE

Devon's father was dead.

Scar was dead.

And the worst part; it was her own father that had done it.

Annabelle stopped dead, her breath catching in her throat, her body froze in her stance, even her thoughts seemed to cut short from their chattering.

Everything changed, everything was no longer the same, nothing will be as it was before.

Annabelle didn't bother trying to swallow to moist her throat, how could she swallow when she could barely stomach the words that had escaped Horace's mouth only a breath ago.

How could the birds still chirp their merry song in the woods, when everything began to tumble heavily on her shoulders, the burden become worse with each second the words seemed to seep through her skin and rest inside her thoughts and run through her blood like they were dancing around to the fast beat of her heart. As panic grew within Annabelle, the faster the beat went and deeper the words sunk in.

"Tell me you're wrong." Annabelle spoke, begging anything that could hear her words to change that past. She knew the answer before Horace even parted his lips.

"I wish I could." Even Horace's voice was croaky from the dryness that invaded his throat.

Annabelle had never been more certain in her life that if her heart thumped any harder, it was going to rip out of her rib cage. And, wished bitterly it would so she wouldn't have to face Devon. How could she tell him that her father had killed his own, that her blood was the reason he was a reason.

She slowly turned her head toward the campsite that was just a blur of figure from this far away. And yet, she could see the Skandian boy standing out from the rest of the figures with his bulky build and raven black hair.

She want to curse her father for this, to blame him for everything, but she knew it was unfair blame. She was too blame, if she had not convinced Devon to help them to escape she wouldn't be in this mess, even if she weren't to know, neither was her father.

"I can tell him if-" Horace began, laying a supporting hand on her shoulder as she stared off to the distance, but from the moment she knew what he was saying, she cut him off.

"No." she spoke firmly, the croakiness still rattling her vice, but she went on anyway. "I got us in this mess, this is my call." Annabelle then walked away, her legs wobbly and feeling light with uneasiness with each step.

Horace looked after her, her brown leather jacket was torn, blood stains littered her clothes, and her hair had become dirty and knotty in it's pony tail, but just by the words she spoke, a rush of realisation hit him. She may not have grown up royal or lady-like, but it ran in her blood, and the words she spoke were words that made her a great princess and future Queen.

~

Annabelle barely had the stomach to even look in Devon's eyes as she went back to the campsite. Gilan and the boys had made small talk, but as soon as she walked over to Devon, her skin whiter than the clouds looming above, the chatter stopped.

Horace caught up moments later, and Gilan caught his eye, a simple warning glance that was enough to keep him quiet.

"Devon," Annabelle spoke into the silence, all eyes on her. She hated it, she had hated eyes watching her, she hated the way attention was brought to her, but the reason why this time was the worst of all the times attention had been brought to her, was because she knew her next words would almost kill her to say. "Devon, I think we should talk alone."

Devon, standing from his position on the log glanced at Horace, resentment glowing in his eyes as his eyes locked with Horace's gaze. "No," he spoke, anger lurking beneath his words. "If he doesn't want me here then he can say it to me."