The Lost Princess

Chapter Sixty: Eramire's Patience

Eramire walked down the stairs early in the morning to find Earwen sleeping on a chaise lounge. She shook her head in annoyance. What time had her sister come home last night? The young elf girl was curled on her side. Her long red hair was falling out of its braid, and she still wore her riding clothes. Eramire felt a soft smile pull at her lips. A tenderness washed over her as she sat lightly next to her sleeping sister and reached out to brush strands of hair from her face.

Earwen stirred and looked up at her older sister. "Hey," she said, smiling sleepily.

Eramire gave her a half smile. "Hey, yourself."

Sitting up, Earwen stretched her arms and yawned loudly.

Eramire frowned. "What is that on your arm?"

A hand clapped over the dark mark on her fair skin. "Nothing."

Eramire's, brow furrowed. She held out a hand. "Let me see it."

"It's not a big deal."

"Earwen."

Earwen pressed her lips together and reluctantly held out her arm.

Eramire gasped as she looked at the red-rimmed tattoo on her sister's skin. "What is that? How could you do such a thing?"

Earwen jerked her hand back, her expression defensive. "It's the mark of my team. For the races."

Eramire felt her fury erupt. "You are not a half breed, Earwen. You are an elf. Or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. What is so horrible about learning about another culture?"

Eramire couldn't believe what she was hearing. "This isn't learning, Earwen. You are trying to be like them."

Earwen stood, facing her sister. "And why is that so appalling, when in my own kingdom I was viewed as nothing but a decoration on a throne? A pretty bird to be looked at? At least here I am honored for my skills. Do you know how well I am able to shoot a bow? You never bothered to watch. I am as capable as any of our soldiers. But you never praised me—only berated me for not acting like a princess."

Just then Thorindir and Amara entered. Their faces as they approached revealed they had heard the shouting.

Eramire ignored them, all her focus on her rebellious sister. "Well, you are a princess. And I am tired of reminding you at every turn. You have an obligation to our people."

"Oh yes. Push false duties on me so I can be as miserable as you are."

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Eramire had to force herself to blink away the tears. "I am not miserable," she snapped back.

"Oh yes, you are. And you're jealous of me. Jealous that I can grasp some freedom when it comes my way. I won't be dragged down the same road as you, Eramire. I want to live my own life."

Eramire laughed. "And is this the life you would choose? In this land of barbarians who mark their bodies, mine ill-gotten gold, and answer to a lying king?"

"At least they acknowledge the prospect of war. They may not be willing to help us, but you are foolish if you think they don't believe Goroth is a threat."

"What do you know about anything? You while away your hours on the back of a gryphon with that common man. What could you possibly have learned about these people?"

Earwen shook her head in disbelief. "For all your airs and pride you don't know how to speak to those below your station. I never knew you could be such a snob."