Crown

c h a p t e r 9

Isabella walked down the corridor, her head bowed. She was lost in her own thoughts. Tied to her belt was the black cloth. The purple patch on it was a constant reminder about the desperation of her enemy. 

After Milenna's rejection, Isabella didn't know what to think about her relationship with her sister. She had thought they were making some progress. The two sisters were finally finding a way to make peace. She was wrong. 

What did Milenna even mean by saying they were too different?

Isabella made her way to the injury room and paused in front of the closed door. What if her sister was inside? She didn't want to talk with her or be in the same room with her right now.

On the other hand, she had dismissed the guards. If she wasn't here, then the room would be left unprotected. 

Isabella took a deep breathe and pushed open the door. The air inside the room was saturated with the smell of herbs. It made her feel slightly nauseated. She dragged a chair from against the wall and sat down in front of the unconscious man.

She detached her short blade from her belt and rested it on her lap. Then she wrapped her fingers gingerly around the hilt and leaned on the back rest of her chair. 

In front of her, the man breathed evenly. His chest rose and fell in rhythm. Isabella checked the bandages with her inexperienced eyes. 

Looks okay... ? she wondered. She absentmindedly traced patterns on the flat side of her blade and gazed at him.

A few strands of his chocolate brown hair covered his forehead and his eyes. Isabella hesitated. Then she gingerly touched the strands with her fingertips. Her fingers trembled at the contact. She quickly tucked them behind his ear and moved her hand away. She looked around the room once. She knew it was empty but she couldn't help it. It was unladylike to touch a semi-naked, unconscious man without any reason. 

Now that half of his face was no longer covered with his hair, Isabella could finally see him properly. A strong forehead sloped down to two high cheekbones and a sturdy nose. A set of square jaws framed his facial features. There were wisps of facial hair on his chin and cheeks. Isabella noticed the faint cut on his eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. 

It was definitely an old wound. Maybe a fall... ?

Or maybe it was received in a pursuit of victory?

Something inside Isabella turned cold. The fingers that were resting on the hilt of her sword now clutched it tightly.

How easy would it be to kill him now? Now, when he slept! How sweet it would feel to bathe her sword in the red blood of this savager?

Isabella leaned back on her chair and closed her eyes. It was hard being sane when she was in the face of losing everyone and everything she had grown up loving. On the other hand, she was also taken aback by her bloodthirsty thoughts. 

How long before she turned into a monster of war?

***

Sir Isaho ran breathlessly to the top of the Wall. "What is it?" he asked before he even halted.

"You need to see this, Commander!" The soldier, who was responsible for keeping an eye at the horizon for any sign of the enemy, pushed himself off the wall. He took a step forward and handed him the spyglass. Sir Isaho wasted no time. He peered though the tiny eye piece. What he saw, froze his blood.

"The enemy banner!" He whispered. "How?"  

He knew how. Lucas would never send a warning before his attack. They were fools to believe they had time, no matter how little. 

He looked again. He desperately wanted to believe it was just a trick of light, a mirage. 

But no! There it was. The purple banner of the Conqueror spluttered proudly with the wind.

Sir Isaho clutched the spyglass tighter in his calloused hands. Then he turned and barked at a soldier. " Ride south. Make sure the townsmen doesn't get a wind. Carry the news to the King and the Crown Princess. Go!"

The soldier bowed and hastened away.

Sir Isaho took a deep breath and exhaled.

The war had begun.