Hey guys! Wow, I'm so busy at the moment and suffering from a nasty thing called Writers Block, so updates will be a little less frequent than they usually are. The next chapter ofUntamedis half done, so that should be up this week. Anyway, hello! Setting things up with this chapter and the next? Let the fun begin. Heh. Hope you all like this and drop a review. I'm only writing more as long as there is enough reviews due to being busy. Thank you! x
Clary
I adore the wet season. I love how the rivers are next to bursting, the land so full of life. The fields are lush green, flowers blooming spectacularly.
It's raining so heavily that my guards, through their screeching for me to stop running through the puddles, are huddled together under the protection of the overhanging trees. I ignore them, letting the water soak me to the skin. The carriage has sprung a leak, so while it's being patched up, I take the opportunity to sneak out of the large and luxurious horse drawn carriage and take advantage of the rainfall.
Another hour and I'd be home. It has been too long since I've been home. For two years, I've been in Britannia learning about their culture and mingling with the other royals, forming connections plus completing my education. I'd left a girl, and was returning a woman.
A rumble of thunder sounds overhead, making me jump and stumble, very nearly tripping on the hem of my dress.
"Princess-!" one of the guards yells, half annoyed, half amused, "you must get back here."
"Not just yet," I smile at him, water dripping off the end of my nose.
"You shall catch a cold! And you are in no fit state to be presented to your father!"
I ignore the guard, staring up at the sky with my eyes closing a second later because of the deluge. Forest surrounds us, but through the trees you can see a field of bluebells.
There is a snap of twigs from the forest side. Too heavy to be the rain. "Get back," the guards warn, rushing from the cover of the carriage and shoving me back behind them.
A guard next to me drops, an arrow embedded in his chest. The blood runs scarlet, making me feel sick.
I'm shoved back towards the carriage at the exact moment I see the attackers. There is three of them. Dressed in dark brown with determined looks about their faces.
I am their target.
As soon as one of them gets particularly bold and takes a step even closer, he drops to the floor with a cry. I spy a small blade sticking out of the back of his head. Now I really feel like throwing up.
And then, in the woods behind the attackers, I see a horse. With its hide as black as midnight, and the rider dressed in such dark clothing with the hood up, they blend into the shadows of the trees. The figure raises a bow now, and a shiver creeps up my spine. What if…
But then arrows zing through the air, catching the other two attackers in the back of the head like the first. They drop like stones and are still.
The figure in the forest lowers his bow and I hear a mutter behind her. "I had no idea Valentine sent him to accompany us back."
I have no idea who the male in question is. My eyes are fixed upon his shadowy form. A moment later he melts back into the forest, but I can still feel the eyes watching my every movement.
A guard steps towards me while the others pick up their fallen comrade. "I'm sorry Princess, but leak or not, we must press on. There might be more."
I nod, climbing into the carriage and allowing them to shut it behind me. They are one guard down, and from the words outside, the guard is dead. I frown when they suggest leaving his body there to the animals to lighten their load. I shove the door open and growl to them "that man might have a wife. A child and a story. And you want to leave him here? In the woods to be eaten?" they stare at me as if I'm about to whip them senseless. "Shame on you all." I climb back into the carriage, listening to the guards heaving their fallen comrade onto the back. And then we are off again.
I watch through the window as we roll on, staring through the rain that had lightened up at last. What am I looking for? My mysterious savior. Well, mysterious to me. The guards seemed to know who he is pretty well.
I'm intrigued.
And I see no trace of him the entire way back to Alicante. I'm glad father has made it a quiet event, not forcing the streets out in celebration. It's always uncomfortable when that happens.
A shadow catches my eye now as we enter the castle grounds. It's gone by the time I look, but it's not hard to guess who it is. Unease settles in my stomach. I also feel cold. Very cold. My clothes are soaked through, and a puddle is at her feet from where the water has been dripping through the tear in the roof. I'm certainly in no state to be presented to my father just yet.
The carriage rolls to a stop at the gate. I sigh in relief- apart from the trio that had attacked them, there have been nothing else. A relatively smooth ride.
It's the sound of hooves pounding against the flagstones that make me look out of the window once more. My savior is back. Sat atop his obsidian colored horse, hood still up, I can't see his face. All I can see is his back and damp clothes, that massive bow slung over his back with a silver hilted sword. He stops the horse before the guard, walking towards him, saying words I can't hear from the guards next to me chattering. But the man he's talking to pales and starts to back up. And then the riders sword is unsheathed, tip at the head guard's throat. His eyes are bulging in fear, a light trickle of red running down his throat from where it has nicked his Adam's apple.
Everyone is as silent as the grave, watching, and I can hear the rider speaking at long last.
"You attempted to assassinate the Princess of Alicante and all of Idris. Deny it and your head will be on the floor before you have chance to say another word."
The head guard says nothing, causing the rider to lower his blade and order the others, "seize him. And take him to the dungeons. I need to see Valentine and tell him I have found his traitor in the guard. There were four sent to kill Princess Clarissa. Three died and I sought the fourth out and forced the words from him." A flurry of movement as the man is seized, and I feel distinctly sick- this was the man who had sent those beasts after me? To kill me?
There are traitors everywhere. Who could you even trust these days?
He's dragged off and the rider turns around, nudging his horse forward. I still stare at the man being yanked away. As the horse passes me by I hear the words "Welcome home Princess." By the time I look up at the rider, he's already gone.
Jace
"Is she unharmed?"
"I assure you my king, she is fine. I took them out before they even got within a meter of her."
"Excellent." The king leans back in his throne, letting out a low sigh. "I had no idea that John would be a traitor. This troubles me; if the Captain of the guard is a traitor, who else could be one?"
I shake my head, tugging my hood down. Long ragged hair the colour of sunlight falls from it and into my eyes. I need to cut it and soon. "He's under the impression that if he gives up names, you will let him live."
A snort of laughter. "After his attempt on my daughter's life? He really is a fool. No, as soon as the words are from his lips, I want him dead. And his body hung in Angel Square. Let it remind the other traitors that their fate will mirror his own."
Valentine Morgenstern, the king of Alicante is in a particularly foul mood today. And vengeful. People are going to die, and probably by his own hand like John Greenarrow.
"And what about me?" I ask now.
The king closes his eyes. "Keep an eye on Clarissa. The castle is a fortress, but it's possible to get through." He chuckles to himself. "I think you proved that when you were a boy."
I bow my head, staring at the floor. "I'll keep an eye on her."
"Good. And I want an update on John's situation. I want those names. Legit names, not fake ones."
"Yes my king." I bow slightly and turn away. A night of screams, blood and more blood awaits me.
"Oh and Jace-"
I pause. "Yes?"
"I wouldn't alert Clarissa to your presence. It might, ah, frighten her. Make her uneasy."
Frighten her? From what I've seen, she's as skittish as a lamb. I smirk at that, but the kind doesn't see. "Very well. As you wish, my King."
"Protect her, Jace. With your life." That Is the king's final words on the matter.
When I stroll from the throne room, it is swiftly shut behind me, the guards posted there avoiding my eyes- they know who I am very well. Plus my profession. The runes lacing my arms, back and chest are invisible to mundane eyes, and I'm thankful for that. No staring, no screams of fear and hate. The kings and his son's runes are the same. There are a trio of Shadowhunter's inside the castle and no one even knows.
And Clarissa. The princess. There had been no runes upon her body when I had stolen a glance.
The corridors are silent as I prow; down them, heading back towards my room.
I can't stop thinking about Clary. I've seen her before, but never spoken to her. When she'd left the castle for Britannia, she had been sixteen. And now she was very nearly eighteen. From what I've seen of her in the carriage, she's turned into a beauty with such vibrant emerald eyes. That hair too… it had been so fiery. The type of girl I love to strip naked before me and ravish.
I've seen one photo of Queen Jocelyn before she died, and it's startling. Where Jonathan is the spitting image of his father, Clary is her mother.
After swiftly changing into gear, strapping a sword across my back and numerous daggers dotted all around my body like inside my jacket, inside my boots his sleeves and waist, I set off towards the royal chambers.
The guards set outside her door tell me quietly that Clary is asleep. The journey and attack has taken its toll on her. Plus, since she's been wet for so long, she's come down with a cold.
It makes me roll my eyes and mutter under my breath that she was a fool. For half an hour I'd sat atop my horse watching the Princess literally jump in puddles like a small child. Silly girl. Silly, attractive little minx.
To the guard's relief, I leave without another word.
Clary
I don't even leave my bed that night. I can't stomach anything to eat either. It makes me feel miserable. I want to see my father and brother so much it hurts. Jonathan has been sending me fire messages and talking to me by projection, but it isn't the same. I miss the touch of my elder brother. The stories he'd read to me when I couldn't sleep when we'd been children. At least, before he'd turned into such an asshat that didn't have much time for me anymore. He's grown too involved with training with his instructors and our father. Prince and heir to the throne, but that doesn't mean he has to rub it into everyone's faces.
I secretly dread the moment Jonathan becomes King. He'll be even more ruthless than our father.
A shadow will creep across the kingdom when that day comes.
I pull myself to my feet now, gazing around my bedroom. It has been two years, but everything was still how I remember. I smile weakly at the picture of myself and Jonathan when we had both been children. He'd been ten, me eight. The carnival had been in Alicante and we'd had our faces painted. Mine had been a tiger while Jonathan's had been a white tiger. He'd teased me that with my hair, I really had looked like a tiger. I had poked fun that with his own hair that was as white as snow, he looked like a white tiger for real. More than me. That we are the same, but different.
The picture is me sat upon my brother's lap with our faces squished together. It will always be my favorite photo.
I turn away from it now, staring up at the four poster bed that I've always had. The wood is a deep dark red, the curtains black. But in the summer, the curtains were white. It didn't match at all and I hate it. The curtains that are currently drawn are hiding the opulent balcony that overlooks the city. There is a sofa usually on there, plus a table. In the summer I usually fall asleep on the soft dark red leather.
I pull the curtains aside, sniffing a little from how bad my cold is getting. Maybe I should call for some lemon water, or something to ease it off. The glass panels of the double doors are worked with intricate flowers. Midnight Flowers, father had told me. After running a finger over a gilded petal that was particularly pretty, I turn the small golden key in the lock and open the door to the balcony. With a smile I step onto it, running a hand over the sofa there. The table has a vase with sunflowers in set in the middle.
The view is breathtaking. In the distance, I can see the shimmer of Lake Lyn. And below me, the market of Alicante is bustling. So much life.
A loud clatter overhead catches my attention now.
With a frown I look up… and promptly dive back into my room as two figures come crashing down, smashing the table and vase with blades out...
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