The Jewel of the Five Kingdoms

Anastasia Lucendent Adela

Even though I protest, Mother and my maids insisted I still go to meet Prince Authur.

"I want to go with James! What if the kingdom-"

"James has everything under control," Mother says calmly, and even though I know she must be worried about her eldest son, she stays positive and kept a smile on her face.

Sometimes I wonder how she can stay so strong when everything around her is falling apart.

"It's probably only five men!" Paisley says as she fluffs my beautiful emerald dress that makes my eyes stand out forest green.

I nod, agreeing but still worried as Margaret instructs me to hold onto the bed post so she can tighten my corset.

The last time the Waterwalker army attacked it was only a group of thirty men and we slaughtered the ones stupid enough to fire at us. It was a petty act of drunken men who brought embarrassment to their people. This attack might be the same.

Even though few people die in these small battles, James always comes home with a new weight on his shoulders. I know it the moment he looks towards me. Another ghost has appeared in the nightmares that haunt him. Sometimes I wonder why he serves in the army, but he always seems to push away these ghost for the greater good.

  "Your father is going out to the troops right now. He tends to find out the reason of this surprise attack," Mother says with a sly smile.

  I had a feeling that 'finding out' might include a large canon. Even though I wanted to have a reason the excuse myself from seeing the prince, I had to admit that the attack wasn't unusual.

  Just last week we had attacked the Waterwalkers in an attempt to gain an upper hand in our progressive battles. They might just be trying to get even.

  But every time James rides away on his white stallion, my heart twist into a tight knot as I wait for him to come home.

  I still remember very clearly the night he came home with the scar on his cheek. A scar I knew would remain with him until the grave.

  It was raining, and I waited for him at the opening of the palace doors. I was only fourteen, James only eighteen.

  My hair was wet and messy, clinging to my skin in matted wet locks, and my dress clung to every curve and made me shiver from lack of warmth. James had scolded me later when I joined him in bed with the flu the next day, but I had refused to go inside.

  He rode up on Arrow, wet and shivering, blood as red as the morning sky trailed down is face in thick dark droplets. Father rode up behind him on his horse, Stone. Both leaned heavily onto the support of their horses in their tired states, but they were alive and mostly unhurt.

  That was the most reliving moment of my life.

I ran to them, crying and shaking as they told me the horrific stories of the bloody battle. Mother and my other brothers ran out and joined the family hug, a tangled mess of relived royals.

  I can still remember the sticky feeling of James's blood on my hands as I hugged him tightly in a bone crushing embrace.

When I had pried for more details of the battle and examined him of any life threatening injuries, James took the time to explain to me the true scares he received from this battle. He told me that after every battle he will come back with scars.

In the present, his entire back is covered in sword scars. The trail up shoulders and around his biceps, thin lines of white that slightly stand out only slightly against his tanned skin. Each one with a different story behind it.