The Sword Of A Princess

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I jolted awake hearing voices coming from the cells. I had fallen asleep watching over Lionel's body as he laid on the ground like a corpse. Sitting up I saw an old man working on Lionel's wound, kneeling beside him. A bag of tools and medical supplies sat on the ground beside the working doctor.

"How is he? Lionel. Is he okay- his wound?" I rushed towards the bars grabbing them, the chains rattling as I moved.

"Could you shut it, I'm trying to concentrate." The old man wrapped in a grey cloak grumbled out, hardly looking my direction as he stitched up Lionel's wound. I breathed out in relief seeing the bleeding had stopped.

"Is he going to be alright? What about infection?" I rushed out ignoring the doctors plea. I had to know.

"Deal with her for me will you?" The doctor glanced back at the knight by the closed cell door. I hadn't seen him standing there. It was not a face I had seen since arriving here.

I stepped back from the bars as he Western knight unlocked my cell door, locking it behind him. The knight was wide and muscular, his fists flexed by the sword at his side. I knew what was coming and I couldn't do a thing about it.

Groans left my mouth as heavy fists crashed down onto my head until I dropped to the ground. The knight only kept attacking, kicking my stomach, kick after kick until blood spat from my mouth. I tried to curl up protecting my head, a violent sickness rushed through me. I felt the knights boot collide with the side of my arm, pushing my head into the ground. He hit again harder, my skull slamming into the cold stone ground.

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All I could taste was metallic blood drying up inside my mouth, my throat was burning, screaming out for a drop of water. My body felt heavy and weak, I could hardly lift my throbbing head off the ground.

I could feel new bruises forming over old ones across my skin and my jaw felt worse than it did before. The coldness from the stone ground seeped into my skin making me shiver, I craved warmth, any warmth. My eyes flickered open, everything was dark and blurry, I could make out the barred walls of my cell and the dirt and dust collecting on the stone ground. I wasn't sure if I had dreamt about Lionel, I remember being at the war, being surrounded. Watching Sika die.

I winced lifting my head from the ground, I moved an arm to help myself sit up more. My stomach rippled with pain, I lifted the shirt to see purple and yellow bruises all across my lower torso. The urge to throw up built in my stomach as my head spun, I hunched over ready to realise my stomach fluids but nothing came. I sat on my knees waiting for the spinning to stop, I could barely see out of one eye. Feeling my face I could feel the puffy skin under my fingertips, I winced touching a sensitive spot and lowered my hand back down.

My head turned as I remembered seeing the doctor working on Lionel. That part wasn't a dream.

Lionel laid on the ground, his once white shirt ripped and stained with blood and dirt. He looked too still. Not even a flinch from his fingers. I crawled over to the bars gripping onto them to keep myself upright, I knew if I let go I would fall back to the ground from the pain.

"Lionel." My voice was hoarse and dry, it hardly sounded like me. I cleared my burning throat. "Lionel." I called again.

The clasps around my wrists rubbed against my skin as I tried to reach through the bars, the chains keeping me from putting my hand all the way through to Lionel's cell. I wondered how long it had been since the doctor worked on Lionel. How long it had been since the war, since I saw Arthur drop to the ground- dead.

Tears welled up in my swollen eyes, burning slightly from the dryness. I let out a sob, lowing my chin to my chest, my forehead resting on the bars of the cells as tears fell from my eyes. My sight blurred again as I cried. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The war wasn't supposed to go this way. We were going to end it. We were supposed to end it. Now Arthur is dead, Sika too. Nate's arm. The Commanders. Darius- he had bought back a traitor from the other side of the Western desert. There was so much black on the battlefield we didn't stand a chance. It was a fools battle. And I stood in the middle of it.