Chapter 1

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Jade

I can only recall walking down the Marble Avenue exactly one other time in my life. The first flakes of snow had begun to fall, catching in my father's dark curls. They looked like diamonds glittering in the early morning sunrise, which peeked out beneath the fluffy clouds, casting a golden glow low over everything.

I remember my mother crying.

I didn't understand why we were awake so early in the morning, and why my mother and not my nurse had dressed me, hastily, roughly, not even bothering to comb out my unruly black ringlets. She had thrown some of my things into a trunk, stuffing clothing, my beloved stuffed horse, Brownie, and whatever jewels a small child like me could have possibly possessed, which was quite a lot given my heir-apparent status. My feet, crammed in last year's snow boots and pinching, barely touched the ground as she dragged me from the room.

The halls, all the paintings of old family members that terrified me as they stared down with judging eyes, were still dark. As my mother pulled me along, everything blurred together. I don't remember if I protested, or if I was too shocked and too scared by this sudden departure to utter a sound.

We rushed out of the Capital and stumbled down the grey stone steps, carrying our lives with us. My father's jaw was sharp, and his eyes never looked down at me. I think he might have been ashamed, but I was too young to know what that sort of thing looked like then.

When we reached the bottom of the steps, we stopped. My father looked behind us, then scooped me up, pulling me away from my mother. He jabbed a finger at the Capital building. "Remember, my sweet Jade, this is where you will always belong." His voice had wavered, holding back tears, but I did as he told me, looked and remembered.

I always remembered.

Now, instead of being rushed down the Marble Avenue, sneaking away in the dawn, I was sitting atop my proud, feisty mare. We were both decorated in silver plated armor and delicate white wildflowers. I had specifically asked for wild flowers and nothing more pretentious like a rose. Other conquerors would have chosen roses or something expensive. The people, who lined the avenue, needed to see the wildflowers; that I wasn't some conqueror, but the rightful heir who was raised among them. I was one of them.

I wished my father could have been riding beside me. To have been able to bring him home would have been my greatest joy. But war has its costs, and my father had paid the price early on. He had paid it so that I could ride up to the Capital with my armor, my army, and my mother at my side.

She was beautiful: mother. Grey streaking her hair, which she braided delicately around her head. Around her neck, on a silver chain, she wore my father's wedding band, and had since the day they had returned his body to us. It was the only piece of jewelry she had chosen to wear, a small restraint at my own request. Though, she had managed to commission a new gown of lavender silk, embroidered in gold instead of the silver I was trying to brand everything with in my new world. She was a good woman, but not once had she lost her regal-ness.

All around me, I could hear the snap of the velvet standard flags, a rearing stallion emblazoned in silver on each one, my personal crest. I had created it in the fading embers of a battle fire when I was just sixteen, a slice across my chin, the scar of which I still carried, and watched as the flames flickered into the shape. I knew then what my destiny was, and what we needed to do. Win back the Capital and win back my home. I lifted that scarred chin just a bit.

I scanned the crowd. They crushed together, a mix of the lower working and merchant classes. If the wealthy were there, they weren't making themselves visible, and a part of me didn't rightly care. They would either accept the change or not, but the people who mattered to me were here to watch me re-enter my home. That was all that mattered to me today.

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