The World's My Prize (On Hold)

Chapter 1: Two More Years (Lillian's POV)

Deep into the dark of night, I stared off at the distant palace, both longing for and loathing it.  It's been so long since I was home, and I missed it desperately with every cell in my body.  Yet, I also dreaded what was to come if I returned.  

The long lost princess.  The princess thought to be dead.  

The princess who is now an assassin.

Slipping my hand under my pillow, I frowned when my figures brushed a cold object.  My dagger.  Carefully pulling it out, I stared for a while at it's magnificent bade and intriguing carvings.  With a shivery, steel blade and a midnight-blue handle with delicate features, it was a blade of my dream.

That is, if I hadn't used it to kill my parents so long ago.

If I were to tell anyone that, they'll say that I'm crazy.  Killing my own parents-the king and queen-just so that I could prove my brother wrong.  And, deep down, I guess I was.  

My parents have never been cruel in any way.  They were fair rulers, always fighting for the best of the people and trying to avoid war.  Unlike Lark, my uncle.  Though they were distant and rarely had time to care for me, that was hardly an excuse to kill them.  After all, they had a huge role to play in the kingdom.

Still, despite it all, I don't regret doing so.  I had an emotion breakdown after killed them, weeping and even accidental stabbing my hand.  To this day, I bear a scar.  Killing is one of those things that seem okay and more like a fantasy until you actually do it.  But Lark pulled me away, and the first thing I learned was how to kill your enemies and live with it.  To not let it bother you.

A lesson that was hard to learn, but one that turned my heart cold and made killing so much easier afterwards.

But the price of killing my parents was worth it.  Leaving the palace behind, building a cunning mind and skilled hand, learning the skills of an assassin...it all seemed worth it.  I guess I was everything most princesses aren't.  But, then again, I could hardly consider myself a princess.

Hidden in a secret warehouse not too fall from the castle, I turned over and stared at the wooden ceiling.  And I pretended that it was the marble roof with a diamond chandelier hanging from it, a memory I still vaguely remember.

"Lillian!" a gravelly voice called.  Lark.  Or, should I say, King Lark of Iniris.

How the royal king found time and energy to sneak out of the castle and come to train me late at night, I don't really understand.  Then again, I don't exactly care.  "Coming!" I yelled back, rushing downstairs and winced when I saw the royal blueberry pie he brought.

Personally, I used to love blueberry pie when I was young.  I still do enjoy the taste.  Except that was my mother's favorite food, and seeing it reminded me of her.

But, of course, I don't tell Lark that.  Instead, I take a seat, crossing my bare legs and tilting my head back.  When he handed me a slice, I don't bother with manners.  Instead, I gave him a cautious stare before picking at my dinner.

Nibbling on the first bit, I run the soggy piece around my mouth, tasting for poisons.  There was none.  Smiling to myself, I take another bite and keep doing so until I'm halfway done.

Looking up, I finally noticed Lark staring intently at me.  Like always, his face was a mask, deadly and expressionless.  Sometimes, I would like to see a bit of emotion that wasn't faked on it.  Still, his stare was making me nervous.

"What is it?" I questioned, my voice as confident and strong as I could make it despite my sudden nervousness.  I stare straight into his eyes, a look a step away from a glare.

"You're sixteen," he finally replied, his voice heavy with something like disgust.

"I'm aware," I replied.  What does this have to do with anything?

"And, therefore, Evert is also sixteen," he stated.

"I'm aware," I repeated, irritation starting to seep into my voice.  Not that I cared, because I was irritated.  After all, he trained me to be an assassin, to memorize and think about every single possible detail.  Plus, I naturally think about Evert every day.

Lark rolled his eyes, snapping, "Which means that there is only two years before he is to be crowned king."

"I know," I hissed, mimicking his eye roll.  "Why are you even telling me this?"

"Because when he becomes king, I will loose my throne.  Whatever 'unfinished business' you have can't wait any longer, because I will kill him in two years," he hissed at me.  Why all the anger, I didn't quite understand.

Blinking in surprise, I nodded somberly.  "Okay."  Then, thinking about it again, I asked, "How about this?  You let him become king-"

"Absolutely not!" he snarled, leaping up and glaring bullets into me.

Doing my best to ignore him-easier said than done-, I continued, "He'll make a fun opponent that way.  Then, after we had all the fun we want going against him, we'll kill him and you'll get your throne back.  Plus, it'll look a lot less suspicious if a king dies rather than a future king being killed."

Tilting his head, Lark's expression shifted to a scheming look.  He seemed to be considering my proposition.  "Fine," he nodded, rather reluctantly.  Then, getting up, he walked away.

Despite his ever-graceful stride and how his footsteps never wavered, I could sense a feel of agitation radiating of him.  

Ignoring it, I went back outside to the training grounds.  Two more years.  That is all I have left to prepare a fight against Evert.  My brother and my future king.

As possibilities and schemes ran through my cunning mind, a twisted and vicious smile formed on my blood-red lips and I picked up my practice knife.

Two more years...