Chapter 2

As Ismaire neared the castle gates, she began to see the figure of her father standing at the entrance, waiting for her. The moment he caught sight of her camel approaching from a few feet away, he narrowed his eyes at her, causing her to gulp. Without a doubt, he was angry with her for missing out on her curfew.

Meekly, the redheaded princess dismounted the humped animal and slowly made her way to her father, knowing what was to happen next. She stopped when there was just a few feet of space in between them then pushed her hood off of her head, letting her lovely hair cascade down her back. After that, she turned her eyes to the dirt at her feet and prepared herself for whatever punishment her father was going to deliver.

The king stared holes into his daughter while she refused to make any eye contact with him. He seemed to know that gazing at her made her uncomfortable since he kept at it for the next few seconds. Had it not been for the occasional warm wind that blew the sand around them, Ismaire would have thought that time had frozen.

As time passed, the king began to take note that Ismaire had begun to pale in color. That's when he decided to break the silence between them. He grunted in disgust then whispered angrily, "Since you clearly can't even keep a simple curfew, how in the world do you expect to keep up with appointments when you take the throne? You're unfit to be my daughter…"

Ismaire winced as the words hit her like a slap. Even though he had been treating her like this since her mother passed away, she still never managed to steel herself against these emotional punishments he gave. All she really managed to do was hold back the tears. That way, at least, she wouldn't appear to be such a weak girl.

After staring her up and down one last time, the king told her one last thing. "Now get out of my sight, you eyesore." Then to Ismaire's relief, the shadow that hung over her began to walk off, leaving her alone. Bit by bit she made her way to the camel she left a few feet away and grabbed the reins. She had planned on returning it by tomorrow, but with her father angered by her actions, she knew he wasn't going to let her leave Jehanna Hall for the next few days.

While tying the camel up in the stable, she began to remember the young man who was currently on the execution list. She thought of his wounds and predicted that due to their severity, they would take a good week to heal. Then after questioning him, which would probably take three days, Ismaire figured that the poor man only had about ten days left to live.

She caught sight of her image reflected by the water in the trough then uncharacteristically began to study it. Her face, which was always lightly powdered, was framed by her beautiful red hair which she got from her mother. Her lips, that were usually painted in red in order to complement her hair, were thin while her eyes were sharp like a bird of prey's. Although everyone would admit that her looks were anything but average, no one had ever called her beautiful. No one except for that young man.

A team of nurses rushed to and fro through the infirmary trying to save a young man's life. He laid on a bed that had turned red from his blood, and was sleeping peacefully despite the fact that he was knocking on death's door. Two nurses removed his upper clothing while another nurse began cleaning him up. All of this was done with quick precision and each doctor knew their role.

The princess watched them through the doorway, marveling at how well they worked together. She tried to keep her eyes on the workers, but her eyes would always turn to the man. Now that his face was no longer hidden behind a mask of mud and blood, she was able to study it the same way he studied hers.

He slept with a smile planted on his lips and every once in a while he would let out a laugh or a chuckle. Perhaps he was having a good dream or was it just in his nature to be so content despite the situation he was in? No matter what reason it was though, seeing that grin of his just made Ismaire want to smile too.

A mousy nurse caught sight of the princess gazing dreamily into the room then wondered if perhaps she was feeling ill. "Lady Ismaire, is something wrong," she asked in concern.

Surprised by the sudden question, Ismaire jumped then shook her head. "N-no. I'm fine. But…If I may ask…" Slowly, Ismaire began making her way towards the unconscious man who was now all bandaged up thanks to the handiwork of the nurses, "Would it be too much of a bother if you let me talk to him?"

The nurses switched their glances from one to another, all of them wondering what had gotten into this princess of theirs. Lady Ismaire wasn't one for talking, especially when it came to strangers. However, they saw that she was serious, so nodded in approval. "Of course, Milady. But for his sake, please don't wake him up from his sleep."

"I understand," she replied back while looking down at the redhead, "I'll wait."

As Ismaire took her seat down at his bedside, the mousy nurse caught sight of her cloak that she had forgotten to remove when she came home. "Milady, would you like me to take that cloak of yours? You're inside now."

"Oh, yes, if you please," Ismaire replied nonchalantly. She slipped it off, revealing the outfit she was wearing underneath. It was an outfit most noble young women of Jehanna usually wore when they were out of the sun. The attire resembled undergarments, but was made out of silk rather than cotton. Some of them also seemed to sparkle, however, Ismaire's was a simple pink with a thin veil around the waist.

The nurse took the cloak from her then followed after the other nurses who were already down the other end of the hall. She shut the door behind her as well, making sure no one would interrupt the sleeping man as they passed by. Now with the door closed and the room devoid of any other life besides the princess and the mercenary, Ismaire began to feel a little bit uneasy. She had planned on asking him just a few questions, not get locked in the room with him. However, now was not the time to go leaving because Ismaire saw that the man was beginning to awaken.

The moment he opened his eyes, the mercenary swore he was in heaven. What he saw hovering over him was a woman with beauty beyond compare. However, he couldn't shake this feeling that he had seen her somewhere before. "Huh…," he whispered to himself, "Do I know you from somewhere…?"

"Well, yes…You should," was all Ismaire could reply.

"Really?" The man got himself into a sitting position then eyed her up and down, examining her revealing outfit. He went back up to her face then studied it as he had done back in Din. Eventually, after many seconds of staring and making Ismaire feel a little uncomfortable, the man suddenly felt a spark as his brain recalled where he had seen her. "Ah…You're the little missy from the town." He leaned back down onto the bed and continued speaking. "Man, you're even more beautiful without that hood over your head, y'know that?"

This man was so nonchalant, so carefree…How could he just lie there with that grin on his face without any idea as to where he was or who he was with? Ismaire turned away and blushed as he continued to gaze at her. What was she thinking when she had asked to talk to him? She bit her lip trying to think of what to say, but was interrupted when she suddenly felt a pinch on her thigh.

She quickly rose from her seat while he laughed from her reaction. "Ha ha! Squeamish and beautiful. You're not like any other gal I've met."

Trying to regain her composure, Ismaire, in her most commanding voice, yelled back, "Stop that! What do you think you're doing? Don't you know what kind of danger you're in?"

He blinked in reply to her question, definitely not concerned in the least. He gave her a smile then whispered, "I'm in an infirmary with the presence of a lovely lady. And I'm currently talking to that lovely lady. What else is there for me to worry about?"

Rather than try to explain to him what was going to happen in the next few days, seeing that it wouldn't get through his thick skull anyways, Ismaire decided to ask a simpler question. She sank back into her seat then said quietly, "Who are you…?"

He sat up then looked her straight in the eyes. He placed her chin in between his forefinger and thumb then in a low voice said, "I'm Caellach, a mercenary for hire."