The Lost Princess

Chapter 6 || Fighting My Faith

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Arabella's soft hair rests upon my shoulder as she sleeps soundlessly in my arms. Her scent, a delicate blend of lavender and something uniquely her, calms my racing heart, even as my thoughts are consumed by the day's events at Grannis. The memory of her slight form charging towards the stage, her tiny body pushing at the tax collector—a man twice her size—replays in my mind. I see her again, thrown against the dying man, her silken gown soaking up his blood as she fought to free him, then turning herself into his shield against the oncoming whip.

The image of Arabella kneeling, praying over the old man's body, weeping for a soul she had only just met, is seared into my memory. She is far more than I had anticipated, and that alone is surprising. I recall the transformation in her sweet eyes, hardening as the realization dawned that her life was built upon a lie, crafted by the very two people meant to love and protect her.

Although I have faced much loss in my life, I never doubted for a moment that those who cared for me were anything but good. The contrast between our upbringings strikes me, even as I feel a growing kinship with this brave, compassionate princess.

Looking down, I see the bandage she had made from the very soft fabric that contrasted everything we had left behind. She gave aid unwavering, her delicate fingers expertly binding my wound. Why would someone of her stature need to know how to give aid such as this? Arabella, how you vex me so. And the most vexing of all are her damn coughing fits. I do not believe they are nothing, as she claims, for that is the second time she has had them today, and they appear to be painful. Her small shoulders practically convulsing as they course through her.

The memory of her coughing, the blood on her lips, sends a chill through me despite the warmth of the evening. How can one so full of life and promise be marked for such a fate? As we ride, the weight of my responsibility to both Arabella and my men presses upon me. The rebellion, the future of our kingdom, and now, the welfare of this remarkable woman—all rest in my hands. The path ahead seems more uncertain than ever, yet somehow, with Arabella by my side, I feel a glimmer of hope I've not known in years.

When we arrive at the camp a few hours later, I gently slip off and take her sleeping form to my tent. She will need a tent of her own. She is a Princess, after all, and our future Queen. However, for tonight this will have to suffice. Upon being placed on the cot surrounded by blankets, she lets out a relaxing sigh and curls deeper into my feathered pillow.

Her dress is stained with the man's blood, but I don't feel right changing her, while she sleeps, and she does need her rest. I watch has her crimson locks create a halo around her face. Her long eyelashes casting shadows upon her fair lightly freckled skin. I shake my head to clear my thoughts of the Princess and take my leave.

"Lea!" Aiden calls, using his very own nickname. Most of the people Aiden likes end up with their name shortened down to his liking."What plan do you have now?" He whispers to keep our conversation out of the ears of nosey troops.

"The Princess is on our side. If we ransom and they get her back, she may help push those changes on the inside. However, knowing the corruptness that lurks behind that wall, they would most likely find a way to shut her up and proceed with the every day."

"So you're saying..." he started not sure how to finish.

"I don't want the Princess anywhere near her family. We may have to banish them and appoint her rightful heir," I tell him still thinking.

"We have the power to do that. Many of our forces are awaiting the single for death, but if you believe banishment is better suited," Aiden questioned. Aiden, much like the rest of us, would much rather bloodshed be spilled to pay for all the lives lost at the hand of the royal family.