The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

14. Your Face Is Adorable

Sitting on the benches just outside the Palace's doors, Prince Skander looked carefully at his companion. Adeen's eyes had that distant look that had seemed to replace the clarity they once possessed.

"You okay?" He asked finally. She nodded, but bit her lip. "If something's bothering you, you should talk about it."

Those black eyes turned to him, sharp again.

"Why me?" Skander looked at her for a heartbeat, then turned to the gardens.

"Why you?" She nodded and he replied with a shrug. She sat back again, seeming almost... disappointed.

"I killed three men, Skander. Didn't even hesitate. I had done more wrong than right. I can't get a good night of sleep because the nightmares don't go away. There are plenty of girls out there. All of them are crazy for you. They are good girls, Skander, and they would make great Queens."

"I don't care about what you've done. You killed three men? Well, yes. But you also saved ten innocent girls."

Adeen shook her head. "That's not it. I can't help but feeling like—"

"like what?" Prince Skander turned to look at her. Suddenly, her defiant eyes were interested on the brown dirt.

"Like I betrayed them. Like I betrayed my people. Out there, you do whatever you can to get food. If those men really believed they could change Illea, if they were prepared to change it, then I prevented that from happening. They would have killed me, yes. But they would turn Illea into something else."

Skander looked at her. She was frowning. A tear lingered on the corner of her eye.

"People are starving. God, Skander, I can't close my eyes without seeing my sister's ribs. My brother works from sunrise to sundown every day so we can eat once a day. Children scouted the trash. Children, Skander. Six, seven years olds died from infections because they stepped on glass when they scavenged the garbage for rotten food." She took in a shaky breath. "It needs to change. The people are angry, hateful. If Illea doesn't change soon, it will collapse."

Skander looked as she shook her head. Adeen wiped at a tear that had escaped her eye.

"I can change that, Adeen. I will change that. As soon as I'm crowned, I swear I will do anything to improve this hellhole. But I'm going to need help. Help only you can give to me. You wonder why, Adeen? Think about this: you are strong, kind, and you know what we need to do to guide people out of their misery. We've all killed, we've all done wrong, but we've also done right. And as long as we do right, as long as we don't do everything right, there will be hope. We will be able to improve."

Skander's own blue eyes suddenly seemed interested on the dirt.

"My father let you stay here. On one condition. I have to do whatever he wants me to do." Adeen's head whirled to him. "It's going to be just for a short time, Adeen. Once it's over, once I'm King, then I'll do whatever I want, and I'll make damn sure it's the best for my country."

Adeen picked up a leaf from a nearby bush.

"What does he want you to do?"

"I have no idea." They fell silent. "I have some good news." Skander finally said, trying to scare off the cloud of grief that had invaded them. "In a week, there's going to be this huge ball. We'll celebrate—"

"Illea's anniversary."

Skander watched Adeen from the corner of his eye. Her fingers absentmindedly graced a scar on the inside of her right wrist. The prince nodded.

"I know it may not sound exiting, but it's mandatory. The press will be there, it will be broadcasted nationally, we'll have guests."

"I don't mean to be rude, Skander, but in case you haven't noticed, I am not so good in public. So I don't see where the good part is."