Memoirs of a Guardian (Original Story)

Chapter Twelve: In Which I Screw Up Big Time

Prejudice is a stupid, stupid thing. And I feel like it only happens when people are so desperate to pin their problems on somebody else- anybody else- that they end up lumping a whole bunch of people together under one category. And soon that group of people isn't seen as a group of individuals anymore, with a lot of different ideas and characteristics. They're just seen as one embodiment of something, and that something is usually bad.

That's not right.

If this memoir teaches anybody anything, I want it to teach people that if they don't look past the surface of what someone seems to be to the real person underneath, someone with both good and bad sides, then this world will be in more trouble than the Reapers ever caused.

Read on.

Soon there were only two weeks left in the Talent Trials, and I still hadn't decided who to tell about my royal pain/lineage, though I assured Dad in all my letters (which I now had to send all the time) that I knew who I was going to ask and that it was just a matter of finding a good time to ask them.

Monday of that week started out pretty uneventful, but when the second class came, Combat, I was eager to show Commander Greenclan how much I had improved.

'We'll be doing archery again today," Usir whispered as the four of us walked into the long Combat Hall and saw the dummies set up once more.

"Excellent," Ten grinned. "Pay can show all the other idiots in the class how great she is."

"I heard that."

We all turned to see Mari, scowling harder than usual, arms folded across her chest like we had somehow gotten in trouble and she'd be disciplining us.

"I wasn't referring specifically to you," Ten said, smiling cheerfully. "But if you really want to take it personally-" his hand drifted towards the lump in his pocket which held an extremely sleepy fizzlescorch.

Mari snorted. "I'm not afraid of a burping dragon."

Ten frowned. "Rude of you."

Mari, deciding that Prince Tenarien wasn't a safe target, turned to Jara as a potential victim. "Doing any better at Combat, orphan? I'm surprised you haven't been eliminated yet."

"Like Andren, you mean?" Usir challenged her. He, too, had come around to my point of view. But we'd agreed not to tell anyone about it, though it certainly didn't seem like the most prudent choice. And Jara remained the only person besides me and Dad who knew I was a princess.

Mari sniffed. "No, like that girl Liana- the one who was so stuck up and, unfortunately for her, looked like Paislee here."

Ten coughed. "Unfortunate?" But he flushed when I looked over at him quizzically.

"Attention!" Commander Greenclan clapped his hands and surveyed us all with the air of a man who has had too little sleep. "Get your bows and your quivers. Line up in three groups."

We did so. This time Ten and Usir managed to stick with me and Jara. I was first in line, and I felt a thrill of excitement as I looked at the target. The knowledge of my newfound talent was burning inside me.

"Aim and fire," Commander Greenclan called, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

I did so, and watched as my arrow sped straight into the tiny red dot in the center of the target. I waited for a response from the Commander, but there was none, so when it was safe I walked to retrieve my arrow. I felt slightly deflated, but I was glad to find my aim just as accurate as it had been the last time we practiced archery.

Finally, after about five rounds of perfect shots, my arrow went clean through the center of the target I was shooting at because I'd been so accurate. That was when Commander Greenclan noticed what I was doing.

"You shot that arrow?" He stepped forwards and surveyed the hole where the target dot had been.

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Your aim is exquisite."

"Really?" I glowed beneath his praise, since for the past weeks he hadn't been able to do anything but criticize me.

"Really. I regret saying you had no skill in this area. It's possible that you were cut out to be a Wilder."

"Really?" I glowed. I'd read that being a Wilder was really hard because the training was so rigorous and there was no guarantee that you'd even get into the program. Being a spy or an undercover cop sounded cool, and it would be so neat to move unseen, to-

Oh, wait. I was a princess and the minute people figured that out I wouldn't be able to go low-profile. Ever. Anywhere.

Commander Greenclan had been setting up another target as I'd been thinking. Now he motioned for me to back up. I did so, continuing until he finally had me stop a full hundred feet away from the target.

I shot him a look. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Instructor Supercilian believes you are good for nothing. I believe he is wrong."

So that's why I haven't been taken, I thought with mixed feelings of relief and guilt. Instructor Supercilian doesn't think I'm good enough.

I felt confident as I pulled back and aimed for the tiny red dot, confident as I steadied my arms, confident as I released and watched the arrow fly in a shallow arc towards the target.

It struck. Dead-on.

Maybe I'm not as useless as I thought, I decided. And looking at Commander Greenclan, who suddenly seemed much more friendly, I realized I might have found an adult I could tell.