4 Princes

I

"But it was difficult to find a rose because it was midwinter."

(Brothers Grimm: The Summer and the Winter Garden)

ROOK
I FELT MY SWORD connect with their shoulder and I slid it down, tearing and ripping through their skin. I shoved past them, their body falling lifelessly to the ground, desperate to get to Erik. He shouldn't have been here. Why was he here?

I called out his name, screamed it even. His back was to me, but I knew it was him. It could only be him. That was his sword. That was the familiar long, black, hair I was used to. Erik didn't hear me, he didn't turn around.

The guy behind him was raising his sword as I shoved past another soldier. Everything around me seemed to be going in slow motion, including myself, except for the man about to kill my brother.

I saw the man's sword go down, followed by my younger brother's head.

"ERIK!" I screamed and ran to the attacker, using my sword to stab it through him and slice out his side. I felt tears and snot run down my face as I stopped myself from reaching for Erik's head. I wanted to pick him up, cradle him in my arms.

An arrow flew past my head, shoving reality in my face. The moment I got too distracted, I finalized my death as well. I didn't need my father bagging two sons instead of one. I would mourn when I closed the doors to my bedroom, locking them.

I looked around the battlefield, fighting my way effortlessly through other soldiers, my training far more brutal and thorough than any of these men's ever had been or ever will be.

I just needed to find Adam or Jack, my older brothers.

I spotted Jack standing at the top of a hill, the sun highlighting his brown hair, almost making him look blonde. I stepped up next to him, trying to get his attention. He went at me with his sword. I blocked it with my shield and narrowed my eyes at him. He hadn't recognized me until I did so, he was too caught up in the battle.

He kicked someone back from us, armor clanking.

"Erik is dead," I screamed, smashing the butt of my sword against someone's forehead, sending them tumbling down the hill.

Jack shook his head. "He's at home, Rook. That wasn't him," He yelled back, not facing me. A part of me wanted to believe that he wasn't looking at me because he was hiding a tear, but I knew Jack. He wasn't crying. He was only focused on the task at hand.

This wasn't the only sad truth I knew. "No," I paused. "It was him." I ducked under someone's arrow and sliced someone's throat next to me, all in one sweep. Red gushed from their wound, soaking my black clothes and coloring the silver on my shield a deep crimson.

Maybe it was my face of certainty, or maybe Jack had seen it too but denied it to himself until I confirmed it, but Jack screamed, a roar of anger. It was more of a reaction than I expected him to give.

I let myself get distracted for a small second, and wondered why Jack held a sword and wasn't higher up, a bow between his hands. "Where's Adam? And our sister?" Jack was thinking everything through, rationalizing everything. He was usually rash, but when in battle... he could almost strategize better than me. Almost.

My stomach rolled and I felt like I was going puke. I didn't respond, I couldn't.

The only thing I could think of was Erik. Erik, who was supposed to have stayed home, who was supposed to be alive. I should've been the one dying. Not my fifteen-year-old little brother.

When I didn't answer, Jack spoke again. "A Prince is dead. Send word, Rook." Jack's sword clanged with someone else's as I stood there, watching but not paying attention. "Rook, NOW!" He yelled.