She ran for her life. It wasn't too long ago that she had a home. Now she was on the run and wanted for murder and treason.
She was innocent; she knew that but no one else did. Now, she could never go home, never stop looking over her shoulder, never trust anyone again. Scenes of the past few hours flashed through her mind, renewing the horror that had just begun to fade.
Blood on her hands, soaking through her clothes. Blood on the chamber floor, pooling around her knees. Her brother, heir to the throne, lay still on the floor the night after his coronation. His bright blue eyes so like her own were wide open and glazed; the life inside them faded, leaving them vacant and unfocused. It was storming and lightning lit up the room casting shadows over Bryon's body.
Overwhelming grief filled her as soon as she her twin's still form. He was the one who had taught her to fight, who had chased away her nightmares, who had been her rock. They had been there for each other when others had failed them.
She dropped to her knees and cradled him in her arms, softly crooning his didn't know how long she sat there, holding her dead brother in her arms and mourning his death. Tears burned her eyes and silently streaked down her face. Anger slowly replaced her grief and the need to avenge Bryon's murder scorched out any other thought. Suddenly, the door burst open, light spilling into the room and bathing her in light.
T
he air was rent by the figure's shrill shriek. "Murderess!" Vaguely, she registered the fact that it was Jeanne, Bryon's newlywed wife that spun around to find the guards.
She looked down at her hands, blood staining her hands black in the dark shadows. Abruptly, she realized the danger that she was in. Without further thought, she gently laid Bryon on the ground, bid him a silent farewell and, begging for forgiveness, began to run.