Chapter 63

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I swallowed hard, trying to get a lump of stew down my throat.

It wasn't easy with Meadow chattering away, and Fawn attentively listening to her, and Grove beaming at us, and Birch glancing at all of us suspiciously. Like he knew what we were going to do. Guilt clawed at my stomach as I tried to pay attention to Meadow's imaginative story, and my eyes fell on Fawn.

Fawn had now become a fixture in our little group. She was also an orphan. Both her parents had died on a mission when she was ten years old. She'd been taken in by another rebel family after that.

I glanced at Maple, who grimaced back at me. I knew she felt the same way I did. This family had done so much for us, and we were going to leave them with no idea of where we were going. Even if it was for a good cause, it felt ungrateful to me.

Also, a part of me couldn't help but think Birch was right. We should be staying back. What could four teenage elves even do? How would we even make a difference? I felt nervous, and worried. And I felt like something was wrong. A constant uneasy feeling was there in the back of my mind.

And a question preyed on my mind. Would I be the one to kill Ivy? I knew that I had the most right to do so, and probably, if the rebels won the war,  I would be the one to deliver the final blow. But could I? As much as she deserved it, with everything she'd done to us...I didn't want to kill her.

And the puzzlement over her happiness at her wedding also confused me. That and a million other worries, like me becoming Queen, consumed me most of the day. And then the apprehensiveness of our mad plan hit me. But it was too late to do anything.

In the evening, after dinner, the four of us met again in what was now becoming our regular meeting spot in the Forest around the camp. "We're all clear with the plan?" Aiden asked. The three of us nodded. "Then let's go over it." Aiden said.

Arden groaned. "Aid, we know how it goes. We all pretend to sleep, when everybody else is asleep, you and I go to the tents, get swords, staffs, daggers bows and arrows- whatever we can carry, but not too much. So it won't hamper the efforts here. Then we get the girls...and go."

 There was dead silence after this, tension and worry hanging in the air.

Finally Maple spoke. "Don't you guys feel guilty?" Arden exhaled. "Yes. I don't want to do this to Mom, Dad, Meadow. I don't know how we're doing this." Aiden's face darkened. "Well, we're doing it now. Do you guys not want to go? You don't want to help?"

"We do. But I don't know if this is the right way of helping." I said, looking at Arden's face and seeing my own uncertainty mirrored there. Aiden sighed and sank to the ground. "I hear you, but really, do you want to back out now?"

He was being sincere, really giving us an option. We could still disband this plan and stay back in camp. We could obey Birch and wait for the rebel army to bring news of defeat or success. This was the time to make a decision that could very well decide whether we lived or died.

So what should we do?

We were all quiet, none of us wanting to speak, all of us afraid. This was a fork in our lives. We could help, hinder or be of no real use at all. But should we try... or give up? I made my decision. I was a Princess, even though I had lived as a prisoner, and leading was in my blood. No matter how polluted that blood was.

"No."

They all looked at me as I continued. "Whatever might happen, we can't sit here and wait. We have to at least try. Staying is like giving up. We'll be like- cowards. We can't do that. We can't give up. We have to go."

Their faces changed as they spoke, from despair to hope. That was enough to give me hope as well. Arden's face showed admiration, but it was Aiden who spoke. "Then it's settled. We're going."

Maple looked conflicted again for a moment, but then she smiled. "Hey guys, if it makes you feel any better, uh...I'm closer to being of age than Birch thought."

My eyes narrowed until I realized what she meant. "It was your birthday!" She nodded, mouth curving upwards in a small smile. She was seventeen now. About a year older than me.

I didn't know how I'd forgotten, but then again, birthdays weren't exactly an occasion for celebration in my family.

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