Three Years Later~

"Can you braid my hair, JiJi?" The little girl asks. 

Her name is Amaya, and she's six years old. A very smart girl dumped in this unfortunate sector of life. Her future could have been so different. But it's not. It's the same future as the twelve other orphaned boys and girls who live here.  Of the hundreds of other impoverished souls that wander beneath the world's feet. 

Drent is a beautiful state, with tall buildings and shiny homes. It's filled with street vendors and weekly markets, where the rich have the luxury of affording farm-fresh produce and products. It's during this weekly market when the street rates pour out of the sewers. That's what the people who live above the underground city of Ulima say. We're what they call the sewer rats. Those who are too poor to afford a home above ground. We're this state's dirty little secret. To the rest of the world, Drent is shiny, beautiful, extravagant, and extraordinary, but underneath the gorgeous mask is an ugly inside filled with infestation. 

We're what the world sees as dispensible and unworthy of anything. And when life deals you such a hand then you have to do what is necessary to survive. So on every market day, we slip out of our lives and into the beautiful world above. Bumping into strangers and flowing through the crowds and when we make it through to the other side it's with pockets of coin that transfer into food. Then we slip back into our forsaken place on this earth and sit at our misfit dinner table made of wood scraps we found and forced together and share the food we collected that day. 

That's what we're doing now. 

"It keeps getting into my face every time I try to eat." She whines. 

I smile to myself as I get up and braid her hair away from her small round face and the youthful glint of her eyes. A chair scrapes the dirt floor and I look up to find two kids helping Nazeera into her chair. She clutches her chest in pain. 

All of the kids stand up from their seats and wait for her to sit down. Once she's seated they all sit back down. A show of respect. A show of love. Even if we're sewer rats we're still respectful. Nazeera smiles gently at the two kids who helped her sit and pats their hands. They move to take their seats. 

"Are they getting worse?" 

Nazeera pretends to be oblivious to my question. Instead, she smiles at the kids all seated and says, "Let us eat shall we?"  

The kids dig into their meals and I retake my seat at the head of the table. Usually, our dinners are robust, with kids getting into arguments or making jokes that cause the whole table to shake in laughter. But today they're solemn. We all know that every day Nazeera's health declines. But her having to come to the table being held up by two others is scary for them to think about. It's not as if she's old. Only twenty-three. She meets my eyes and I instantly know we're thinking the same thing. 

I notice one of the kids, Edward, hasn't touched his food. I glance at Nazeera to see if she's noticed as well. She's looking down at her plate of food as she cuts the potatoes into bite-size bits. I look back at Edward. His fiery hair is cut short in a buzz cut. I remember him coming to me and asking me to make his hair go away. I had asked why he would want that and he replied the other kids made fun of his fire-colored hair. I had asked him which kids those were, but he hadn't told me. So instead I told him that to me his hair was as beautiful as his fiery passion. It hadn't changed his mind but made his eyes light up for just a moment. As if in that moment he had hope of being something beyond an orphaned child, the reality snuffed out his hope in the next. So I cut his hair down short but I didn't make it disappear. and he was okay with that. almost as if it was a way for him to be somewhat reborn, with fresh hair can come a fresh person. 

After dinner, each kid begins their evening chores before they head to their bunks to sleep. I sidle up next to Edward as he washes the dishes. 

"Hey," I say softly

The little boy looks up, "Hi Jiji." 

"You didn't eat anything today," I let the sentence go unfinished. He may be a little boy, but he's wise beyond his years.

He's silent for a while, but he's also stopped rinsing the plates. Finally, he sets the dish down and turns fully towards me. 

"Do you think maybe one day-" He pauses, "One day I could be a hero?"  He stops again, "Like you." 

I snort, "I'm no hero," 

He shakes his head, "You are! You bring us food every day." 

I pause for a moment. That didn't make me a hero, it made those that were the cause of food being scarce for these kids a villain. But I was no hero, and yet the way a child's mind works is wonderous. He's put me up on this pedestal in his head as if I'm his savior. I shake my head. I don't deserve that. I'm the reason my second-in-command and best friend died. I'm the reason Nazeera is in such pain. I'm the reason Delniyah's child is fatherless. Those are not the actions of a hero. 

"No, I'm not." I say with a sigh as I get down to his eye level, "But you can be." 

His eyes light up, "How?" 

"By growing up to be a good man. By helping those who need it. By standing up to injustice. That's what a hero does." I pat his cheek, "But not yet, you're not ready yet." 

"When will I be ready," His youthful hope never ceases to amaze me,

I smile over my shoulder as I make my way to help Nazeera to bed, "That's for you to decide. But I'm guessing you'll know it when you feel it." 

He stands there and ponders that. I make my over to find Nazeera. She's sitting in her chair at the table. I place a gentle hand on her shoulder and help her stand up. 

"Slaw, Jiyan." She says. 

Slaw, Hello.

"Slaw, Nazeera" I reply, 

We walk slowly so that Nazeera doesn't waste too much energy. It's hard to forget why she's like this. Why one of the greatest fighters Avalnada had ever seen is now unable to walk thirty feet without crumbling in exhaustion? I did this to her. It's something I think about constantly. 

"Find them!" The captain yells, "They have to be in here somewhere, we're not returning until we have them both!" 

Nazeera and I slink deeper into the wooden crevice that's beneath the cottage. The guards search for an hour before finally deeming that we're not here. 

"Burn the entire place down!" the captain barks, "I want all traces of their escape wiped away." 

I glance at Nazeera, we both know we can't get out until about thirty minutes after they have left, or someone will spot us. But my plan hadn't accounted for the fire they lit the cottage up with. 

"Shoot" Nazeera whispers.

Slowly smoke wisps into the crevice in tendrils from the fire. Nazeera coughs but snuffles it with her sleeve. I hear the last soldier leave. 

"Thirty minutes," I whisper. I begin counting the seconds. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 minutes. 

Nazeera is holding her breath and so am I. The smoke seeps into our skin, tickling our nerves. 

6, 7, 8, 9, 10 minutes.

Nazeera begins rapidly coughing. 

11, 12, 13, 14, 15 minutes. 

Nazeera collapses. I burst through the trapdoor and haul her out. Flames lick at me as I hoist her up on my back and slam through the cottage door. By the time I'm out, I'm covered in soot and Nazeera is limp in my arms. I look around for soldiers before finally setting her down. 

It's a miracle she survived that day, but ever since then, she hasn't been able to breathe properly and her heart stutters too often. All because I made a foolish miscalculation. 

We arrive at the door to our shack and I gently help her sit on her cot. 

As I'm pulling away she grabs my arm, "Do you think we'll ever go back?" 

I nod confidently, "I'll stop at nothing to get you home, my sister." 

She shakes her head, "It's not so bad here, away from the court politics and the constant war." 

The war. It had started twelve years ago. Alistair, King of the state of Aikran, wanted more land. He attacked the state of Indril. The state of Indril sent spies into Yellova because they suspected that the two states were working together. Yellova mistook the spies for Avalnadian and soon a deadly war had broken out that forced every young man to fight. Everyone on the home front cheered when the war began. Each of the four states believed it would be an easy war, one that they would win. They were wrong. Each state promised its people more land, more food, and more wealth if they helped win the war. They lied. Now the people have nothing, no food, no clothes, no wealth. The state governments ration out food. Meager meals. Clothes are not replaced until they are beyond repair. All because those in power wanted more. No one is cheering now. 

The states all used to be one country, the Sun Kingdom. But it broke apart after the great revolution. Now it's four parts, four states, and four different governments: two monarchies, Avalnada and Aikran, and two council-led governments, Indril and Yellova. The amount of friends we lost in that war is incomprehensible. I was just sixteen when I led my unit. 

And yet a year after I won so many battles for my kingdom I was cast out as a traitor.

I close my eyes and silently repeat the vow I have made every night since we escaped, I will clear our names, I will regain our honor, and I will return home.

"Sherko would have loved it here." That's the last thing she says before she falls asleep. 

She's right, my cousin did always love shiny things. This city would have been just another thing his charm would have won over.

The Queen of Avalnada is dead.

That's what the headline says. I gasp for air as I struggle to remain standing. I can't crumble, not here in the bazaar. Not where everyone can see me. Not my mother. Please not her god. 

NO, NO, NO!

Chancellor Raven stormed the Golden Palace on the night of the full moon and took the throne. No one knows what has become of the former queen of Avalnada, and with the warrior princess Jiyan still missing, Raven has assumed power. 

Oh, how captivating they make it sound. How intriguing it must be for the people of Drent. This, my life, is another story they read about in the papers and use for their own entertainment. 

I thought I had more time to find a way to return. I thought I had more time to regain my honor and take up my position at my mother's side. But now she’s gone. Dead. The word echoes through my head. It’s knife lodged into my heart, twisting every so often just to torment me. 

Silly girl, how long has it been since you escaped? You've been taking your sweet time. A voice in my head hisses, You never wanted to help her. Because she didn't believe you. 

I push away the slithering voice, despite the truth in her words. It's been Three years. Three years since I was banished. Three years since Sherko died. Three years since I promised my two commanders that I would get them back to Avalnada. 

And now I have only one of those commanders left, and she's on the brink of death. I can't do anything here. I'm nobody, nothing, in this strange land. This land that I have been hiding in like a coward. 

My mother’s beautiful face erupts into the fragile emptiness of my mind. Her gentle smiles, her golden hair. The small wrinkle that had formed between her brows. The crinkles that surrounded her eyes when she grinned wide. 

I feel the heavy burden of death abruptly slam onto my shoulders. I’ve lost too many people to that vile word. I’ve lost too many of those I loved. 

It all makes perfect sense now. The planted evidence in my chambers. The false orders written under my name. The tortured soldiers who swore I had held the poker. The idiots who stormed the castle that fateful day, and cited false orders from me. It had all been a map of betrayal they had painted and given to my mother on a silver platter so that I would no longer stand in their way. I was the one thing protecting my mother. I had friends everywhere. I had the complete loyalty of my soldiers, captains, and commanders. I had even won over a majority of the Wazir council. I was the warrior princess of Avalnada. I fought for our kingdom on the front lines. I was the people's beloved. So to cast me out as a traitor. To paint me as a power-hungry fiend looking to murder her own mother for the crown. Well, it was genuis, cunning, extraordinary. But then again, Raven Leshea hasn't always been known to delay on the things she wants. And my mother’s cousin has always wanted power. 

Someone bumps into me and I'm pulled out of my thoughts and remember where I am. 

"Hey! Move along,"  he yells at me. 

I scrunch the paper in my hand and hoist the bag of food at my feet up. 

It's time to go home Jiyan. 

When I make it back to Ulima I find the kids huddled around something. I approach them with the bag of food, hoping to get them situated for dinner and talk to Nazeera alone. 

I push through a few kids to get a look at what they're huddled around and find Nazeera on the ground, a small pool of blood near her head. Blood slowly dribbles from her ashen lips. 

A loud high pitched screeching sound fills the air around us. It takes a few seconds to realize it's me. And that I'm screaming. I don't know when it is I dropped the bag of food and the paper. But I scramble to pick Nazeera's fragile body up. She doesn't weigh much. The sickness had taken so much of her. It takes me two minutes to get her on her cot. I check for her pulse. It beats faintly. I gently brush her beautiful hair from her eyes and she smiles at me kindly. Sweetly. Oh, dearest Nazeera.

"I-" she coughs up more blood, "I t-think it's m-my t-time." 

I shake my head furiously and round on the kids.

"What happened?" I practically yell, 

It's Edward who replies, "She was walking, normally, when all of a sudden she started coughing and there was blood and she fell and none of us could help her and I was so scared and I froze and I'm sorry Jiji!" 

He's crying. All of the kids are. 

I turn back to my best friend. And shake my head, "It's not your time, you're okay." 

She smiles another crooked smile and the dried blood on her lips crack at the pull. She slowly shakes her head, "Jiyan," She heaves in a breath, "Jiyan, I don’t think you should go back." 

I shake my head again, refusing to believe that she's dying. 

"You have to let go of the past, you have to remember who you are. The throne is not everything." Her arm shakes as she raises her fist and I take it in my own hand. I feel something drop into my palm. I look down and find my official royal sigil. It baffles me that she's had it all this time. “Forge your own path. The world has another place for you. But I don’t think that’s Avalnada.”

She gasps for air, her chest heaving. Tears streak down her face and she clutches my hand tightly. There is so much fear in her eyes, but next to the fear is love, and happiness. Contentment. 

"You are our princess, neither I nor Sherko, e-ever regretted serving you." She lets her eyes fall closed. 

I don't know how long I kneel there, crying over her broken body. Long enough that the blood on my hands dries, long enough that I feel her body go cold. Long enough that my eyes dry out and my throat becomes parched. Long enough that my resolve to kill Raven grows stronger and stronger. Long enough for me to make a decision. 

The sigil in my hand burns my palm. I look back down at it. It has the dove of Avalnada on it. And as it glows a plan begins forming in my mind. I'm going to take back my kingdom, whatever the cost. 

She just spent her dying breath telling you to not do that, you idiot!

I burry the voice in my head. 

The kids surround the tombstone we've created for Nazeera. Each one stepping forward to leave their mark. Edward places a small wooden owl on her grave, it's his only possession. Emily leaves a crown she made of twigs. Jhasper places his bracelet made of twine. Even as each kid walks away, tears streaking through the dirt on their faces, I lay there. Next to her grave. Telling her stories, recounting our memories. The day I killed for the first time. How my hands had been shaking and my brows had been slick with sweat but it was Nazeera who held me as I shook. She was three years older than me, so to me, she was always like an older sister. 

When I finally get up on my feet, it's with determination. If the world refuses to see me then I'll make them. I'll watch the world burn before I let it take another one of my people. 

     I stand in front of Drent's palace doors. The guards that stand in front of the gates glance my way. I stole enough money to buy a pair of clean trousers and a white blouse. I look somewhat more presentable but even if I hadn't he'll have no choice but to see me. I'm Princess Jiyan after all, and the sigil that I've pinned to my blouse proves it. 

"Please declare my arrival." Yesterday I had sent a missive to King Herald, stating that Princess Jiyan would be visiting his esteemed home. 

The guard scoffs, "And who are you?" 

I give him a cunning smile, "Warrior Princess Jiyan of Avalnada, at your service." 

The other guards eyes widen, but the first guard laughs in mockery, "Oh wow, the Warrior Princess of Avalnada! If you’re Princess Jiyan, then I'm King Herald!" He busts into a loud obnoxious laugh

I smile again, "Well King Herald," I say mockingly, "You may be in a lot of trouble if you don't report my presence."

I unclasp the sigil on my blouse and hold it out for him to see, it begins glowing a faint gold. 

He scoffs again and my anger blooms. "We don't just let anyone who claims to be someone in. Your shiny toy doesn't prove anything. 

All of my anger at the world boils up. I’ve been through it these past three years and I am not going to allow some guard to stand in my way. I don't know how I lose control, but all of a sudden his head snaps back and I realize I've punched him. 

His anger is blatant on his face as he swears and unsheaths his sword from its place at his hip. He charges at me and I'm taken aback slightly by how untrained he is. His arm seems awkward holding the sword, and when he swings the blade it's with very little power. I sidestep his strike easily and elbow him in the back as he stumbles into where I was a moment ago. He falls face-first onto the stone pavement beneath him. I tsk at the sad display.

The other guard also unsheaths his weapon now. Despite his uneasiness with the situation. He steps forward and swipes as me, he's much more in control of his blade than the other was, but he's also new to this. I can tell. It makes the satisfaction of punching him straight in the face much less brilliant. In a matter of minutes, both of the guards are lying on the ground groaning in pain. I smile. Seems like I still have some warrior left in me. I push the doors of the palace open with effort. They're very heavy and even though I feel a pang of disappointment at myself, I squash the feeling down. My muscles are weak from disuse, that's not something to be ashamed of. 

Or, maybe you're just not the same girl you were three years ago. You've gone weak, soft. Pathetic. 

I ignore the ugly voice and continue beyond the gates of the shiny palace. 

I'm met with a lot of swords being unsheathed and enough scowls to last me a lifetime. Surprisingly I don't mind. This is the most I've had in the past three years regarding an adrenaline rush. And It's not disappointing. 

I look around as I'm surrounded by 12 or so soldiers. All wanting to protect their palace. I respect that. It's a small silent moment, where I do nothing and they're transfixed by this fact. I wait patiently for one of them to make a move. Do something. Because if they don't I fear for their lives. 

Finally one of them lunges at me with a grunt and pure anger in his eyes. I catch his sword in my hand. Even as it slices through my palm I don't grimace. I welcome the pain instead. It's a stark contrast to the numbness I've been feeling for the past three years and it gives me a distraction from my grief. My blood drips steadily onto the stone pavement. His eyes widen and he's taken aback. His shock has frozen him and I land a kick to his gut. He stumbles back, taking his blade with him. Another comes at me, and another, and another. three at once. I dodge one blade, then another, and another until I'm stuck between five different blades. Trapped. They smile triumphantly. I duck out from between the blades and swipe a leg under two of them, who fall backward. I land a well-aimed kick at a guard’s hand and he lets go of his blade. I catch it and swivel to parry another blade. This a dance. Albeit a dangerous one. But as I twirl and swivel and match the guards blow for blow I feel like my old self. Like the sixteen-year-old warrior on the front lines. 

"This is fun!" I say to the soldier as I push against his blade. He fumes. 

I throw him back and watch as he falls. I turn around to kick another one of them.

"What in all the heavens is going on here?" A deep, male voice barks.

Almost as if on command, all the fighting ceases. The soldier I was clashing blades with immediately stops his offense, straightens, and bows. I take advantage and swipe a leg under him. He topples. 

"So great of you to join us!" I say as I turn toward the newcomer. "I was just introducing myself to these wonderful men-" The words die in my throat. 

The man who stands twenty feet away from me is the most beautiful I have ever seen. And I've been around Sherko my entire life. I should be immune to beauty. 

His perfectly set light brown hair gleams in the sunlight. It's short, barely reaching his ears. Bright blue eyes a stark contrast to the golden color of his skin. His lush lips sit in a slight frown. and his dark brows have furrowed slightly. He's dressed in a perfectly tailored grey tunic and dark trousers. His shoulder is hugged by the metal of his armor and his chest is trapped with two leather stripes that hold about six different blades. A sword hangs at his waist and his trousers tuck into deep grey boots. 

I mentally slap myself out of my thoughts. How dare I? I would never feel comfortable if someone gawked at me as such. I'm so deeply ashamed of myself that I don't notice two guards sneak up behind me until my bloody gashed hands have been securely tied behind my back. I groan inwardly. Not just because I'm annoyed, but also because as the rush of blood in my body settles, I start to feel the pain in my hands. 

"Well?" The newcomer asks, "Will anyone care to explain what a little girl is doing in the middle of the courtyard causing such mayhem?"

I balk, "Little girl?" I gasp in mock offense. 

One of the guards I had knocked down before drags his limping leg forward and greets the other man, "Sir. We apologize." He bows, "We were only trying to subdue the aggressor."

I roll my eyes, "You're the ones who drew weapons on me." 

The man's brows furrow even more, "What pray tell are you doing in the palace?" He asks me, "This is not the place for someone like you." 

I raise one eyebrow, "Someone like me? Please, whatever do you mean?" I say sarcastically.

He sighs as he shakes his head at his men, "Someone soft."

I bristle, but before I can reply a raspy voice yells, 

"Princess Jiyan!" The man looks baffled at the sight. His robes ruffle as he practically runs toward us, "let go of her immediately!" He is so angry. it's etched into every wrinkle on his face. 

The guards look at the man in front of me and he nods, although his look of surprise remains on his face. They untie me quickly and I take two steps away from them. The old man makes it to us in a few seconds. 

"Princess Jiyan, we're so glad to see you're here. We received word of your visit yesterday, but did not assume you would get here so quickly." He rushes to explain, "I apologize for any trouble you may have run into upon your arrival-" He stops short as his eyes land on my bloody hands. 

He abruptly turns on the young man, "Why is she bleeding?"

The man shakes his head, slightly, a bit dazed, "I'm not sure." He pulls himself out of his daze and throws a sharp look at a soldier behind me. "Why is the princess bleeding?" 

The soldier who has been addressed steps forward, "She caught a blade, sir." 

The young man's brows furrow once again. 

"Well, it's no use for an explanation now, we have to get her hands treated!" The older man turns back to me. 

He looks to be around the age of sixty, with gray hair and a graying beard. His eyes hold a strange emotion, not quite displeased, but also not entirely happy to see me. It takes me no small amount of self-control to contain my amusement. These people must hate that I'm here. That the heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms has traipsed in and demanded an audience. Three years ago, my behavior would have appalled me. I was a warrior with honor and a princess who was humble. But if the past three years have taught me anything, it's that the world doesn't take kindly to the kind. You have to be ruthless to survive. My friends were the former, and they were ripped from this ugly, transitory world we live in. 

It's struck me multiple times how war would not be a thing without the aggression of humanity. The once beautiful lands of Avalnada and the four states are now nothing more than barren deserts. Where even the weeds are afraid to grow. It's not as though I remember a time when the land was green. I was much too young when the war started and the world collapsed. Even Drent is not alive and vibrant, despite its peaceful state. Rather the entire kingdom is made of glass, metal, and stone. Nothing is real in this strange land of the south. 

What a sad life. To never have seen grass. I silently laugh at myself. 

The old man clears his throat, "I informed the guard to be on a lookout for your royal sigil," He trains a sharp look at the guards and the young man. "It appears General Clayton was not aware." He narrows his eyes at the young man, "I assure you this will not happen again."

I nod, "I never got your name," I say briskly,

He seems surprised by my asking, "I am Chancellor Samuel, your highness." 

"Well Samuel, I am pleased you came just in time. I was afraid I might have been headed towards the dungeons."

He almost shrinks back in shame, "I-I'm extraordinarily apologetic, your highness. This is entirely my fault."

I turn back to the young man, General Clayton. "And your name?" 

He only stares back at me for a while, before finally saying, "Clayton is fine," then almost as an afterthought, "Your Highness." 

"If you would follow me, your Highness, I've been instructed to make sure you are situated and comfortable." His voice holds only a hint of impatience. 

He turns around swiftly and begins walking. I give General Clayton a sly grin. He only stares back without any hint of emotion. 

I then follow behind the chancellor as he begins walking. At some point, he begins to give me a tour of some sort. 

"This here is where the first Queen of Drent was crowned. And here is where King Herald, at the time prince, learned to walk." 

I can hear the proud notes in the man's voice and suddenly, I'm not very pleased with myself for being unkind earlier. He seems to me like a loyal servant who loves his king, he reminds me of Sherko.

It makes sense why he met me with controlled suspicion, why all of them met me with swords instead of smiles. I'm a threat to his world. I cannot fault him for wanting to protect his King. 

"Your Highness," He startles me out of my thoughts, "We have arrived at the chamber prepared for you." He gestures toward the large double doors made of a shattered sort of glass. The design makes it impossible to see through the door, and despite its messy look, I find comfort in the broken pieces forged together in this form of art. 

It reminds me a lot of myself. When this thought enters my mind I suddenly am hit by how depressing I sound. How have I succumbed to my feelings so fast? I'm such a pathetic idiot, so different from the warrior I was three years ago. 

Well, that's what living in a slum and sulking for three years will do to you.

I smile at the chancellor, "Thank you," 

He nods politely, "King Herald is in a council meeting at present, but he has invited you to dinner this evening. The royal family would love for you to join." 

I'm not here to play fancy, I'm here to forge an alliance and get an army. I'm about to say as much when I remember one of my mother's important lessons. 

"Always remember Jiyan, even though we don't play by the cruel rules of royalty, others do. Always look for a way to seep into the cracked walls of your opponent’s mind. Not everything is a physical battle, sometimes it's the battle of words that matters most. Sometimes you have to play by their rules."

I give the chancellor my most dazzling smile, "I would be delighted." 

He bows, "Wonderful, I will send your staff immediately," Then he leaves.

I turn slowly back towards the door. The glass door. The Shattered glass door. I roughly push the doors open and mentally sleep myself. I need to get out of my own mind sometime soon before it starts to shatter too. 

The staff does show up at my door. Exactly 12 minutes after I first entered the beautiful extravagant room. Of course a kingdom as shiny as Drent would be detailed about interior design. 

It's beautiful, a work of art, really. The large glass bed. Glass for heaven's sake! The bed is made of glass and a mattress the color of pure snow sits atop it. The headboard is an intricate array of glass art, stretching and swirling into the shape of an owl. It's absolutely gorgeous. Beside the bed is a bedside table made of a white shiny material I have yet to see in my life. It's smooth and reflects the light just so. The next thing that catches my eye is the ornate chandelier, sparkling as it gently spins. Directly below it lays a lush white rug, made of the softest material. A vanity sits at the end of the room, an array of beauty products organized on it. Finally, I see the wardrobe. It's open and on display. Dresses of all colors, from bright reds to light greens to everything in between. Shiny shoes, and glass slippers. 

It would be the epitome of happiness to so many, but to me, all I see is the lavish cruelty of it. How the children of Ulima starve daily, but here above ground they have so much excess wealth. 

I wince at the rub of alcohol on my injured hands. The girl who is treating them had practically fainted at the sight of my hands when she first arrived. But then she collected herself and instructed another servant to procure treatment and supplies. Now she's wrapping both my hands gently. I think she said her name was Amaya, but I was too out of it from bloodless to care. 

The servant who had brought the supplies stands awkwardly by the door, his head bowed. He'd tried to brush my hair but I had waved him away. It's a task even I can do, so why should there be a need for another to do it? I think I may have been too harsh with him because the sixteen-year-old boy looks as though he can't bear the sight of me anymore. 

"There you go." The girl beams and I'm suddenly struck with such an earth-shattering pang of sadness. She looks so much like Nazeera, it hurts to continue looking at her. 

It's hard to imagine she won't be waiting for me back in Ulima. It's hard to fathom that she's gone forever. I keep expecting her to pop out of nowhere with her constant cheer.

Like a optimist.

But she doesn't. 

And that's a pain too much for me to handle, so instead I bury it, just like I buried her.

"Your Highness." The girl is saying.  

I don't look at her when I ask, "What did you say your name was again?"

She blinks, a little surprised that I had bothered asking, "Amelia," 

Wow, I must really have been out of it. How did I get Amaya from Amelia?

I nod, "When is dinner then Ameilia?" 

"In an hour, your highness." She pauses, "Would you like me to draw you a bath?"

I nod. 

Before I know it, I've taken a bath, Amelia has wrestled me into a hideously Pink gown, and Harry, which is the boy's name, has expertly arranged my hair into a half up half down style that accentuates my neck. 

He looks much more pleased once he's finished with my hair, and I can't help but smile at that. 

And, evidently, it seems that an hour has passed. Amelia is not happy, she says we took too long. That we'll be late. I laugh again. 

She leads me to their great dining hall. When the guards open the door I find five pairs of eyes on me. Then, everyone but the man sitting at the head of the long table stands.

"Is that Jiyan I see? In the flesh?" The man at the head of the table booms in a jovial voice. 

He stands up then too. King Herald has a simple gold band around his head, his crown I presume. He looks around the age of fifty, and his bright golden eyes hold warmth instead of hostility. He opens his arms wide as he approaches me and before I know it, I'm enveloped in a big hug. 

What is going on? 

His beard tickles my cheek as he hugs me, and despite my better judgment, I melt into it. It's been so long since someone hugged me. 

He pulls back with a grin on his face. "I'm so happy to see you!" He still has a hand on my shoulder as he leads me to my seat. It's the chair one directly to his right. Then he sits at the head of the table again. And the others sit as well. Across from me is a young man, with dark hair, and even darker eyes. He doesn't smile at me, actually, not a single emotion sits on his handsome face. Next to him is someone I recognize. General Clayton. He doesn't look up from his plate. Sitting on his right is another man, this one has pale hair, the same shade as Clayton's but his hair is buoyantly curly. He gives me a big grin and leans forward slightly, golden eyes twinkling.

"Thank god you came just in time!" He says, "I was dying of boredom listening to James give a stupid report."

Clayton's head snaps up at that, and he frowns, "It's important that our King knows what's happening in the kingdom!" He says, exasperated. 

"Not at dinner. Let the man eat in peace. I will literally pay you to stop talking about work." It seems like this is a recurring argument between the two.

"Ignore them." I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of a rough voice directly beside me. "They're always fighting"

The man who had spoken is sitting beside me, he looks annoyed and worn out. His dark hair is cropped short in a buzz cut giving his sharp features more prominence. He's as handsome as the other three, but it's sharper. 

King Herald rolls his eyes, "If you two don't stop fighting, I'll take my dinner in my own room." 

The bickering stops immediately. For a moment it feels as though no one breaths. 

He turns to me and smiles down at the plate of food in front of me, "I had the chef make chicken tonight, I seem to remember you do not eat red meat." He picks up his own fork, "And don't worry, the chicken was alive and healthy before the slaughter, and all the blood was drained from its carcass."

How does he know that? Why would he go to such lengths to uphold my beliefs?

"Thank you," I say,

King Herald only nods, "I'd like to introduce you to everybody," he says, "This is Liam," He points with his fork at the young man sitting silently across from me, He gives me nothing but a slight nod of acknowledgment, "He's my eldest son," 

I nod, Prince Liam is loved here in Drent. Girls fan over him, and most dream of marrying him and becoming princesses. Even some of the girls in Ulima would moon over him. 

"I was informed you've already met James." He says, 

"Yes," I smile, "The one who almost threw me in the dungeons."

King Herald's brows raise up to his hairline, "You did what?" 

James shakes his head, "I didn't know she was the princess, I thought she was a thief trying to get into the palace." 

"Does she look like a thief to you?" Liam asks quietly, It's the first thing he's said all night.

At this, James goes silent. 

"That's Aron," He points with his fork at the man sitting next to me. 

Aron rolls his eyes, "We could have introduced ourselves, you know." 

"I just wanted to make it easier on her, if you're all constantly jumping into the conversation it could confuse her." 

"Sure, sure," Aron says with a chuckle. 

King Herald gives me an exasperated look, "Ignore him, he's a cruel brute. The idiot with the curls is my youngest son Colin." 

Colin grins and gives me a wave. I smile in return. Truth be told I'm a bit befuddled. This is not the royal family I was expecting to meet tonight. Usually, a dinner table's seating arrangement is based on rank, and yet a general is sitting closer to the king than a prince. And the easy way they all seem to get along is baffling. Where is the rivalry for the throne? Where is the hatred embedded in competition for power?

I haven't heard a single one of them address king herald as 'Your Majesty'. They seem to treat him more as a father figure than a King. 

This is the strangest royal family I have ever sat at a dinner table with. And the only daughter of Queen Shirin is a coveted person sought out by many kingdoms for marriage. 

So I've been to many dinner tables. 

I finish my meal in silence while I listen to the rest of them chat amongst themselves. Openly laughing and joking. At one point Colin gets up to grab extra napkins, when he gets back and moves to sit James abruptly kicks his chair away, and the youngest son of King Herald falls onto the ground. 

Instead of being angry, he laughs along with the rest of them. 

When two maids come in to clear the table King Herald turns to me, "Is chocolate cake still your favorite dessert?" 

My suspicion is confirmed. He knows me. 

"Have you ever visited Avalnada?" I ask

His brows furrow, "Of course I have." He says, then finally as if realization dawns, "You do not remember me?

I shake my head, "Am I meant to?" 

He suddenly breaks into a heavy fit of laughter, "All this time I thought you were being intentionally cruel. I though you remembered me and chose to not acknowledge it." 

I shake my head, dazed, "I was there when you were born, I was there when you learned to walk, I was there when you got the Hermes flu and stuck in bed for weeks. I even brought you your dinners." 

With each thing he reminds me I begin to remember. A figure who was there all throughout my childhood. Before the war had started. Uncle Harry. He had been my favorite person to be around, second to my mother. but on my seventh birthday, he didn't show up. And every birthday after that. I didn't see him again. That Uncle Harry couldn't have been King Herald. Could it?

"You're Uncle Harry?" I balk, "But you're-" 

"Older?" He says with a chuckle, "I suppose that's how time works. It's been 13 years. You expected me to stay 35 forever?"

I reel, but at the new information, questions begin to flood me, "What happened to you? I remember throwing a tantrum because you weren't there on my birthday."

At this his eyes droop in sadness, "The bloody revolution happened." He practically whispers it. 

The bloody revolution?

"Why don't we go for a walk?" He suddenly asks, "It would be easier to explain if I'm moving about."

   "You might have realized," King Herald says as we walk in the gardens, "That we are not like the other royal families." 

I blink, he must have read my face very well. Or Sherko was right and I'm just really bad at controlling my emotions.

"I was the youngest prince, the one they sent away to a large estate near the border after I proved useful by marrying a princess from another kingdom." 

"I apologize on behalf of the ludicrous monarchical rules," I say with a slight laugh. 

He smiles at me, "You may be wondering how I became king, I'm certain you're curious." 

I glance around at the captivating array of flowers and greenery. I am curious.

"I was perfectly content, living my life on the border. As the youngest son I never had aspirations for the crown. I enjoyed the countryside. I fancied visiting Avalnada. And the court of night."

The court of night is my Aunt Gulzar's domain. It stretches between Drent and Avalnada. She rules over the territory and her court is feared greatly. She's a powerful Queen, her elemental controls lightning. People cower in fear at the sound of her name. She is formidable and dangerous. But to me, she's always been Sherko's mom. My auntie. That is until she denounced me publicly. I'm not sure if I would be welcome in her court anymore. 

"I'm not sure if you know, but your mother, Gulzar, and I grew up together. Drent and Avalnada have always been allies. I wasn't needed here, so I spent most of my youth in the court of night. We were all so close." He sighs wistfully,

"When I married Hazel, it strengthened our relationship with the court of night. So proving useful my father left me alone to live the rest of my life as I wanted. And I was happy as long as I was away from court."

"On the day of your seventh birthday, we were preparing to visit." King Herald continues, "I received word that my brother Apollo had killed every last member of our family and was coming for me."

That's why he wasn't at my party. My heart clenches. At the agony reflected in his features. At the fact that I had been so petty I'd been angry with him for missing my party. I hate that while I was planning a celebration, so much murder had happened. I hate that while I was eating cake and dancing, his entire life had been upturned and ruined. 

"I snuck my family into the court of night, where Gulzar gave them protection. But it wasn't enough. We lied low for two years, but assassins snuck into the court and killed Hazel." He looks so sad then, so guilt-ridden. "The blade had been meant for me. Gulzar was furious, Hazel was a member of her court. Her death was seen as an act of war. Except when the assassins were caught we found that they were not Drentins."

He's walking slightly ahead of me now. As if he's moving faster to outrun his past.

"They were from Dasani." 

This has me go still. Completely and utterly. Dasani is a large nation in the north. They have a military of half a million soldiers, more than any nation to exist. Their king is one of the most powerful elementals to have been documented. They say he can move things with his mind. That he can kill a man with just his thoughts. The kingdom of Dasani has not waged war against another in decades. They keep to themselves only periodically trading or bartering with other nations. It also helps that they’re separated from the rest of us by a vast body of water. 

"Aunt Gulzar couldn't have possibly gone to war with them. If she had, the court of night would not exist today." I say this knowing full well the extent of my aunt’s powers. But it’s a small court and her army is not large

He shakes his head, "She didn't. She couldn't do anything. We just had to sit and wait. Hazel didn't get a proper funeral. She was quietly buried and we had to lay low again for six more years before my brother finally made a mistake. A few of his soldiers were caught in Gulzar's territory and she could attack. It wasn't hard to beat his army. But because he had the help of Dasani, it took two years." 

It strikes me odd that I hadn't been aware of the conditions of countries other than my own. It's a humbling thought. What kind of a ruler would I make if I didn't even have the forethought to know these things? I didn't know what was happening outside, and yet I had never asked. I was too busy proving my worth to the wazirs by winning battles. 

"Why would a nation that has kept to itself for so long, help your brother?" I ponder the circumstances, "And the effort it would take to move their army from the north all the way here, even if it was just a small part of said army." 

At this, he gives me no answers. He only looks back at me with questions of his own. We both stand there for some time, him lost in his grief. While I am lost in my confusion. It's never been easy for me to let go of my curiosity. The council always claimed it made for a weak queen. In their eyes, I was not useful if I was constantly chasing answers. But my mother's words always outshone theirs. 

"Your curiosity is what makes you, you, Jiyan." She smiles, "The world is a curious place, and you are a curious girl. Why do you think I named you Jiyan?" She brushes my unruly hair out of my eyes. "You are my whole world Jiyan."

He turns around towards me then, "I've spent the past five years putting back together a broken kingdom." He whispers. 

I realize then that this was never what he wanted. Here stands a good man, who wasn't prepared to handle such power. Here stands a man who is unmoved by greed and gluttony. He doesn't know what to do with the power at his fingertips. It may have been thirteen years since I last saw him, but his face has been weathered by more than just time. Being king has aged him beyond his years. 

I'm still turning his words over in my head as I lay in bed that night. For a bed made of glass, it's surprisingly comfortable. I turn on my side wishing Nazeera was just a few feet away in her own bed. It seems childish, but I long for the nights we would stay up and giggle at dumb jokes. Or the nights she would tell me all her plans when we returned to Avalnada. She always wanted to marry a handsome man and have children. She always wanted a family. And she died with me by her side, a miserable, coward for a friend, instead of one.

I look up at the roof and quietly tell her about my day, hoping somehow she hears me. "It's been rough you know. I'm still mad at you for leaving me to deal with all of this crap on my own." I realize how insane I sound, but I keep talking because no matter what I try to tell myself otherwise, this is the only thing rooting me in reality. 

"I don't know how to help Uncle Harry and my mother at the same time."

I wake to insistent knocking at the door of my bed chamber. Grumbling with annoyance, I try to ignore it, but whoever it is does not go away. Finally, I roll out of bed and make my way to open them. I fling the doors open ready to be angry at whoever is on the other side. 

"What-" I stop short.

You're supposed to be dead. ​

You're supposed to be six feet under dirt.

I saw the empty bowl, I saw the blood. No one can survive an entire bowl of Ender poison. But here he stands in front of me. This can't be real. It can't be because I watched them haul your body away. I want to scream, I want to cry. But instead I pinch myself. This must be a dream. Oh how cruel the imagination can be.

I bring my hand up, convinced it will go right through him. Because he must be a ghost. He isn't real. Except my fingers graze skin and flesh. I trace his chin, up his cheeks. Past his dark eyes. He catches my hand gently. Holding it in his. 

"Slaw Jiji," Sherko whispers. A gentle smile on his face. 

I crumble. Because I no longer have bones. I'm an ice sculpture, melting. I'm a vase that has shattered and my thousands of pieces are scattering. He catches me, slowly helping me to the ground. Then he wraps my shaking body into his arms as sobs rack through me. He gently picks up each piece and puts me back together. 

My cousin is not dead.

My closest friend in this entire wretched world is alive. 

Tears soak through his soft cotton shirt. And I realize they're mine. I hold on to him as if he'll slip out of my grasp. As if he'll disappear. 

He smells so familiar. He feels so familiar. 

"At some point," He rasps into my ear, "I'm going to need to breathe." 

This is enough to shake me out of my own mind and back into reality. I let go of Sherko and he pretends to desperately suck in air. The bastard still has a sense of humor. 

Before he can react I pummel him in the gut. He curls over with an oof. I stand up to my full height and glare down at him

"How dare you!" I yell at him. 

He rubs his stomach, "I did not see that coming." he grunts as he gets up. 

I push against his chest, "I thought you were dead!" 

"I know." 

"Nazeera nearly died in our attempt to save you."

"I know." 

"I've been grieving you for three years you jerk!" 

"I know," He sighs, "And I am sorry."

I blink past the tears in my eyes long enough to see the anguish in his. There is so much I have to tell him. So much he has to tell me. The three years we were apart is like a chasm between us. My best friend looks the same, save for a new scar under his jaw, but his eyes. I don't recognize those eyes. He's not the same. And that realization shatters my heart. 

Then a furrow forms between his eyebrows, "Where is Nazeera." He says, looking past my shoulder into the room as if expecting her to appear. 

I say nothing and look away. I haven't said the words out loud yet. And I don't think I'm ready to. I don't think I'll ever be ready. But he's known me my entire life, and there is nothing he can't decipher from the expanses of my face. 

Suddenly he looks as if the air was stolen right from his lungs, and when he doubles over, it's not because I punched him. We all grew up together. Nazeera was like our sister. We were a trio, always together, and now it feels as though a part of me died with her. 

"No," He says, 

"Yes," I say

He opens his arms again and I sink into them. Then we cry together for the dear friend we have both lost.

We're sitting outside, at a tea table. Two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits before us. I pick up a biscuit. Tracing the delicate pattern the mold has created. 

"How did you not die?" I ask, wanting to know, but not wanting to seem ungrateful. 

Sherko sits across from me. His dark hair is a lot shorter than I remember, it used to come down to touch his shoulders, and he would always tie it back. Now his hair barely reaches his ears and sits atop his head in waves. His eyes I find empty in a sort of way. They're the part of him that has changed the most. They're still dark brown, with a ring of gold, but instead of the mirth he used to contain in his eyes now there is only sorrow. 

And It's all because of me. If only he had renounced me too. 

"My mother." He says simply. 

This has my immediate attention. I thought she didn't believe us. I remember her publicly renouncing her son. The same way my mother renounced me. 

"She believed us?" 

He nods, "I did drink the poison, I did almost die. But as they were moving me for burial, a group of masked individuals saved me." He pauses, lost in the memory, "I kept telling myself to keep my eyes open. Because I knew if I closed them, I wouldn't wake up."

He sighs, "One of them shoved something down my throat. And it saved my life. When I came to I was in my mother's tunnels. She told me I needed to find you. That something bad was coming and only you could stop it." 

Something bad? Did she know Raven was going to usurp the crown? Did she know, even then? How can I possibly stop something that has already happened?

My thoughts whirl and twist and turn. Trying to find an explanation for my aunt's words. But there is none. I don't understand what she could mean, or if she was referring to Raven's greed. 

We both sit there for a while. Lost in our own thoughts. Then the conversation I had with King Herald comes back to me, "Sherko." I say.

He looks back up at me so suddenly, "I thought I would never hear you say my name again." 

It dawns on me, how much I've missed my best friend, my cousin. 

And how much he's missed me.

"Be meshk, you'll be hearing me say your name so much you'll wish you'd never found me." 

He barks out a laugh. 

"I can't believe you just called me stupid." He whines. 

"Get over it, I have a plan." I say, "For getting back Avalnada." 

It's been forming in my head since last night. 

He grins brighter than the sun and leans both of his elbows on the table, planting his chin in his hands, "Let me guess. You can't do it without me."

I roll my eyes but I don't say no. He's right. I can't do it without him. I don't think I have the will to do anything if my best and only friend isn't by my side. 

"We find the lost kingdom of Dasani. And barter for their help." 

He recoils, exasperated. I know what he is about to say before he even opens his mouth. 

"They've kept to themselves for a reason Jiyan. They want nothing to do with anyone outside of their kingdom. Who even knows for sure if they exist? Anyone who's gone looking for them hasn't come back." 

"They exist," I say with determination, "Their assassins killed Hazel. I want to know why. They might be a part of the something 'big' Aunt Gulzar was talking about." 

He reels back, as though this new information is like a kick to his gut. "But I thought Apollo killed Hazel."

I shake my head, "They have an army of one million soldiers. If we can convince them of an alliance, we could end the great war. We could get Avalnada back." 

He's silent for what seems like an eternity.

"But I can't do it without you," I whisper.

He sighs, a big obnoxious sigh. As though he doesn't know what to do with me, but then a huge dopey grin creeps onto his face and he laughs, "When do we leave?"

Everyone has gathered in the throne room. Where usually council meetings are held. They're in their council positions. This means they stand in a straight line down on each side of the throne. usually had the throne room been full of council members they would reach the large bejeweled doors. They stand based on rank. With Prince Liam closest to the king, on his left stands Prince, Aaron. And on his left Prince Conel. Then stands General Clayton.

James is the first to state his objections, "They won't agree to help you so easily."

The only reason I've brought my plan to King Herald is because I need his funds. Without it, we can't possibly travel so far north.

"Well, it's worth a shot," I say without sparing him a glance. 

King Herald is nodding, lost in thought. 

"Their king isn't known to be the most generous," Aron says. 

"Doesn't he, like, destroy things with his brain, or something?" Conel asks no one in particular. 

They erupt into rapt conversation on the northern kingdom, and I look at Sherko, but his eyes are on King Herald. 

When King Herald clears his throat all conversation dies immediately, "I think it would be beneficial if I sent one of the princes with you," He says, "It would not only help your case if they see our support for you, but it could also prove to strengthen our own ties with Dasani." 

I mule this over in my head, and when I look at Sherko I see he is doing the same thing. Before either of us can get a word out, James beats us to it.

"It would be incredibly dangerous to send one of them across the world in pursuit of a kingdom that so obviously dislikes foreigners."

Even though he has yet again entered the conversation with negativity, I agree with him. It's a journey that requires going through six different nations. That includes two nations my country is currently at war with and one that's ruled by an aunt who denounced me three years ago. It wouldn't just be dangerous for myself, but any allies I may have. 

"Take Liam with you Jiyan, and you'll have access to any funds you may need." King Herald says, ignoring James's protest.

At this Liam's head snaps up, "Why me?" 

To my surprise King Herald doesn't answer, instead he shoots his oldest son a glare. Liam looks away in anger, his jaw ticking. 

I heave a sigh and turn to leave but James cuts in, "Your Highness, with all due respect, this is an incredibly dangerous move, sending your heir to the north. Please rethink this." 

Sherko nods, "I agree, it's a two-month trip through multiple nations." 

King herald nods, "Which is why you're going with them, General. You can protect my heir." 

James reels back, shocked. He cuts me a sharp glance. His objections have been dealt with. He has no reason to object. For a long time, James and King Herald don't break eye contact. Something like a silent conversation passes between them. It's not the first time I wonder how James seems to talk so brashly with the King. What the story there is. King Herald regards him the way a proud father would.

Finally, James nods and steps back into his position. 

"When do we leave?" Liam asks

"Tomorrow morning." Sherko says, and then he slips into his commander persona, "We will be departing at first light. Tonight it's best to prepare. Pack everything for two months time, that includes your own snacks." Even in commander mode, he's still Sherko.

"James," 

"Yes, Your Majesty?" He bows, 

"Have the treasurer release the funds Princess Jiyan requires."

"Yes, Your Majesty,"

As he passes by me he whispers, "I hope you know what you're doing." 

Then he's gone. God how I despise that arrogant man. So what if he's beautiful? Or that his eyes are so blue they remind me of the ocean. I haven't even seen the ocean. I stand there in fury, when I whirl around to leave I find Sherko watching me with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" I huff as we both walk out of the throne room. 

He shrugs, but his sly smirk is still on his stupid face, "Just thinking." 

"Oh?" I ask, "When did you start doing that?" I mock.

He moves his hand to his heart, "You wound me Jiji." 

"I hope that wound kills you for good." 

He pretends to pout, "I've been with you for one day and already you're bullying me again."  

I punch his shoulder. 

Hard. 

"Dang!" He says as he jumps away from me and grips his hurting shoulder, "You can actually punch now." I ignore him and keep walking, "Oh they grow up so fast." he says wistfully as he hurries to keep up with me. 

I may be pretending to be mad, but it's these jokes we have together that I love the most. I can always count on Sherko. He'll always be there to make sure life's cruel hits don't knock me down permanently. To make sure I have the will to keep on going. I used to wonder who did that for him. When I found out the answer was no one, I took the job. 

And yet now, I'm not sure how he's doing. I just know that I can't face one more thing without him. And yes I'm selfish enough to beg him to face my fears with me.

I wish I wasn't. 

But I am.