The Jewel of the Five Kingdoms

Anastasia Lucendent Adela

The villagers stood behind the grave in black cloaks and boots, each waiting for the opportunity to place a flower on top of the empty grave.

The village may not always run in perfect harmony, but they all shared the same love and respect for James. It was something I was always slightly jealous of when we were growing up.

I know the kingdom respects me as their future queen, but James was the voice of the people. He was willing to risk his life for them so to prove it he joined the army, and whatever glory he received on the battlefield he returned to the people.

  When they were finished bringing flowers, a beautiful blanket of different colored plants decorated much of the slab that covered an empty tomb. It was vibrant and bright, a stark contrast to the dark atmosphere around it.

I slowly walk to the grave, my footsteps silent due to the steady rain around me.

  The crowd held a collective breath as I took out a humble yellow flower, the same one James had given me the day of his death, and placed it on his grave.

"I always wondered why- why the best people have to die," I say with a quivering voice. Although I was talking softly I knew I was loud enough for every person in the crowd to hear my words.

"Now I know it's like how you would find a flower to give me. . .You always picked the prettiest," I lowered my head as I broke down into more ugly sobs.

Everything in my being longed for James, for his comforting touch and the soft sound of his voice. I craved the reassuring words he would give me when I am frightened, and the confidence he would give me. His empty presence created a hole which I cannot fill.

  My brothers and parents come beside me, lowering their heads and pulling me into their embrace. As we mourned, the crowd began to disperse with bows of respect to the empty tomb.

  Mother kisses my cheek, and Father lightly squeezes my hand before silently walking back to the castle with several guards flanked at their sides. Their cheeks were wet with salty tears and voices hoarse from crying. I watch as they grow further away.

Philip tugs Alex away from the grave, his expression pained as he looked down at the bold lettering. Alex turns and doesn't look back down.

  "Ana. . .You should come inside with us," Augustus said quietly. His red curls are plastered to the front of his forehead, and his blue eyes are red and puffy from crying.

  I shake my head, sniffing and wiping furiously at my eyes. "No. I want to stay out here a little longer," I reply, barley more than a whisper.

August nods. "Okay," he responds quietly. The old August would have argued with me about how I could become ill from the cold and rain. He would flash a lopsided smile and tug and the sleeve of my gown playfully until I can't help but follow him inside, but that light has left him, and I have a feeling the old August is gone.

Looking at my brothers, I realize none of us our the same. Shadows of our former selves stand in dark clothing in the mind numbing rain. Charles was on his knees by the tombstone, rearranging a flower to more tightly fit together. August places a hand on his shoulder and helps him to his feet. With one last glance to me, Augustus turns and trails up the hill. Charles, Philip, and Alex slowly trudged behind him. Guards follow at a respectful distance, two shuffling to stand nearby me, but I order the to go. When they don't leave immediately I yell at them to leave me alone, and they look startled by my anger before retreating.