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Broken Battle

It’s broken. It can’t be broken. My hands frantically scrap only to find it’s broken. I stare down at the little shards that have my blood on them. It was my last tie to the world where I grew up and now it’s gone. There’s a banging at the door. I know they heard the glass shattering and came running.


“Do you want me to let them in?” Mareth asks, and when I don’t answer he calls my name.


“No.” I say shortly and stand to answer the door myself. When I do, they all flood around me and stare at my hands and I take satisfaction in watching them try to piece together what happened and then watch their glares al turn to Mareth.


“Come along Princess, we have to get your hands cleaned up.” My maid says and leads me out of the room, down the stone corridors and into the great room where my father is.


“What’s this?” He asks as he looks at my hands, cradled against my chest. Hestands up and comes over to me, takes my hands and inspects them.


“How do you expect to lead your troops into battle? You couldn’t even hold a sword in this condition!” His voice is powerful but so low I have to strain to hear it.


I decide I’ve been to quiet for to long. “I don’t expect to have to lead them! You and Natiler are fighting like two shepherds over a stray sheep! Mareth and I have been at ends since we were children and you sent me to his home and away from here to learn the ways of a powerful court but we haven’t started a war over it!”


My father is startled. “You would do well to learn that one sheep can be the difference between life and death for a shepherd.” He says quietly and walks away.



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