Disclaimer: I don't own anything except most of the characters, the plot, and blah.
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Kyler's POV
I took a deep breath as I leapt onto my horse. Mother, Father, and Char were in the stables to say goodbye, but Mandy wasn't. She didn't particularly like goodbyes; that was one thing we had in common. I looked down at the saddlebags on my horse and then on my back, where there was a traveling bag. I had insisted on having one, for the saddlebags could easily fall out and I had been given very valuable gifts.
"Kyler, whenever you're lonely or just plain bored, look at this," Mother had whispered into my ear as she slipped it carefully inside my bag. The fairy book was obviously quite important to her. Mandy had given it to her when she'd gone away to finishing school and Mother had told me many times that it had been a big comfort to her. I hoped it would have the same effect on me in Ayortha. The book was one thing I could look forward to.
Then there was the sword Father had given me. It was…well, there is no word to describe it with. It is simply magnificent, and I hope the day I use it will come very soon. The hilt is encrusted with tiny rubies, the gems representing Kyrria. In Ayortha, I knew, the representing gem was the sapphire. There was some story to the gems, but I really didn't care. The sword with its magnificent beauty was enough for me.
Mandy and Char had given me a mirror. According to them, each of the three of us owned one, and each was magical. We could communicate to each other through them, no matter how far away we were from each other. They would come in handy if Mandy wasn't too busy and if Char was brave enough to stutter a word. But I suppose I'd be content in Ayortha, more or less. The royals never talked, so I would fit right in.
What could possibly go wrong?
-
Devyn's POV
I really, really hate my mother.
It was sweet of Terry to try and help me, but it was no use. She'd taken me to her dressmaker and…and…oh, I can't even stand talking about it! It was simply horrible, with all the frills and bows and low neckline and goobersnot. That fricking guttersnipe totally ruined me! It was honorable, yes, to be dressed like that, but I'm not that into the royal goobersnot stuff. Goobersnot…what a lovely word.
The stupid dressmaker, Lady Margaret something-or-other, was certainly goobersnottish enough. She fawned over Mother and admired everything about her, then moved onto me. And – can you believe it? – she kissed me! I don't care if it's on the cheek, it's completely and outrageously mortifying! So no one blamed me when I gave her a disgusted look, kicked her in the shins, and gave her a bloody nose. That should teach her. Of course, Mother might have said something about disgracing my country and the family, but I really don't care. The only thing that matters is that when I told Terry about it before he went to bed, he laughed. It might have been because Father was choking on his Tonic in the background, though.
As I was saying, that dressmaker was horrifying! She was a complete guttersnipe (I really don't know what that is but I heard one of the merchants saying that to the chicken lady so ha!)! She and Mother tackled me to the ground (oh, fine, it's because I started thrusting my fists and legs everywhere, but still…) and took my measurements. Why in the name of Father would they want to do that anyways? It doesn't matter much, though, because afterwards, they made me put on the horrible dress Lady Margaret something-or-other made for me.
Mother and the dressmaker may have thought I looked quite beautiful in it, but it felt goobersnottish. If it weren't for the dressmaker's assistants restraining me, I'd have torn it up without a second thought. I can't bear to describe it; it brings back such horrible memories. As I lie awake in bed right now, I find it revolting even just to think about that horrible garment. And they're going to make me wear my tiara, too. Can things get any worse?
Ah…of course. The prince. I haven't heard what he's like yet, just what he's like. All everyone talks about is how dashing and handsome he is, not about his personality. My maid, Christine, had worked in the Kyrrian palace before coming to ours, and she tells tales about his iridescent hazel-green eyes, his charming though rare smile, his dark curls…anyone can tell that she's head on heels in love with him. But so, I guess, is every female that meets him. I do hope I'll be an exception, though my predictions are probably true. I've never been in love with anybody and probably never will. Not even my brother; I love him very much, but I'm not in love with him. He's my brother! That explains a lot, I hope.
Why am I wasting my thoughts on such stupid things anyway? As Mother and Father ordered, I have to be up very early in the morning to get ready. Get real! The prince isn't even coming until way past noon; I don't need the whole day to get ready!
-
Fortunately, I woke up before anyone else in the entire castle, except maybe Terry, who was at the stables with a huge grin plastered to his face as he waited for me with Snowflake by his side. How does that boy do it? I shook my head at his laughter and hitched up Firefoot. He was just as beautiful as ever, jet-black and gleaming in the light of the sunrise. I hugged his neck and tugged on the reins to know it was okay for him to gallop away.
Laughing with the wind running through my hair, I looked back for a glimpse of my brother's shocked face. He started laughing too, shortly after, and came racing after me. We were having such a wonderful time, with our horses black and white, the sun shining on our faces and the taste of morning fresh and sharp on our tongues. For the first time, Terry looked completely carefree and happy. The blissful look on his face brightened his eyes and made his laugh seem more…tinkly. The expression worked for him, and the laugh, too.
We galloped through the whole of the Meadow, which looked especially beautiful with the colors of the sky shining upon it, making it seem like a woven rainbow. Nothing could go wrong today, nothing. Everything seemed alive, breathing and talking and laughing and un-goobersnottish. Terry and I laughed freely, loudly…we didn't care about getting in trouble, or rules. Or at least, I don't think Terry did. As for me, since when had I ever cared?
I raced ahead of my brother to the stables, hair completely wild and tangled, cheeks aflame with excitement and life. I groomed Firefoot more carefully than usual, though he didn't need it, being the wonderful, magnificent creature he was. Then I registered the silence. It rang in my ears and stopped my heart for a fateful second. Then I heard whinnying. Snowflake was back. My heart started up again until I realized that there was no one on Snowflake's back, and that the poor mare had an expression of pure terror in her eyes. I froze.
I ran to the Meadow, running faster than I'd ever run before, faster than I'd ever cared to run. When I was halfway there, I cursed my stupidity, still running. Why hadn't I gotten Firefoot? If I had, I'd be there right now.
But where was there?
There was where Terry was. Terry. My brother. What had happened to him?
Terrible images rose in my mind and I tried with all my strength to push them back down. Terry, lying facedown in the fields, fair hair matted with oozing red blood…Terry, looking up at the sky with blank green eyes as the world faded away…Terry, whimpering slightly as he looked around him, then taking his last breath, then disappearing to where not even I could follow…
I shivered, not because of the cold, but because of fear. Fear had gripped my heart with its icy fingers, had made its way into my blood, freezing it and stiffening my veins. But I had to run.
When I got there, I was glad to see that there wasn't any blood. But that was the only thing I was relieved to see. My beautiful, laughing brother was silent now, lying in the grass facedown, absolutely motionless. His eyes were closed, his eyelashes resting on pale, freckled cheeks. He isn't dead, I assured myself, but I wasn't sure. I ran closer, then kneeled down beside Terry.
His right arm felt limp, and from what I knew by my medical studies, it was broken. He must have fallen off his horse. But why? Because of his sensitivity. I cursed myself for being so reckless. The wind must have been too much for him. Why hadn't I been more careful? Why hadn't I been more responsible, more mature? Damn, damn, damn.
As I brushed away his golden curls from his forehead, I checked his pulse. It was faint, but it was there. The relief washed over me like…erm…uh…never mind. I'd never been good at this poetic goobersnot anyway (in other words, it was a load of crap and could burn in hell for all I cared. Wow…another thing: when I'm upset, I start cursing more frequently than usual. In normal circumstances, I'd do the happy dance, but my brother was about to die here…you get the point.)
I scooped up Terry's limp body in my arms – which wasn't hard to do because he weighed less than a speck of dirt – and made my painfully slow way back to the stables. If only Firefoot was here to help me…but he wasn't, and whose fault was that? "Shut up," I ordered my conscience, not realizing I said it out loud and not caring anyway.
When I finally got there, I could see that Mother and Father were there, as well as all the royal knights, High Chancellor David (a really boring guy), etc. etc. etc. Their backs were all turned against me and no one noticed me when I cleared my throat. Very loudly. I was on the verge of screaming to get their attention when Sir Damien, one of my father's friends, called out.
"Sire! The prince is hurt!"
Everyone turned to look at me, and just then I could see what they had all been crowded around. Or rather, who. I cursed myself yet again.
The prince was here.
((Author's Note: I was going to combine this chapter with the next one, since this one's so short and all, but the cliffie was too much to resist!))
PoEtRyAnDpRoSe – (blush) Aww…thanks.
Andreaatf – You've got to be kidding me; you're the first that ever said that you loved my work…thanks.
Babyblueangel097 – Thanks! I like Devyn a lot, too…it's going to be hard to part with her when this fic is finished. I sort of want to write a sequel when it's done, but what about?