Forsaken Blood [Weekly Updates]

Twenty-eight (II)

"As long as I have breath in my body, he has not!"

Xavier felt his heart swell with pride when he heard those words. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Charlotte had had to grow up so much in the last few days alone. He wondered where the little girl had gone, the one who used to trail her father to council meetings. The young princess who was awkward and self-conscious.

He had barely blinked and she had grown into a queen.

Their age gap weighed heavily on his mind. He could recall vividly the day she had been introduced to the Frahadrain council. She was barely eight, her dark hair in ringlets about her chubby face. She had almost tripped as she attempted a curtsey.

He could still see her embarrassed face, could hear his own ringing laughter. He had felt the need from that day onwards to challenge her at every turn, to pick apart her every argument. Many said that he had made a sport out of it and his younger self would have boasted of the times when he had verbally defeated the Crown Princess of Frahadry.

But it went deeper than that. She was too protected. So much so that many could never see the silent strength that Charlotte possessed. Xavier knew from that first awkward curtsey-where she had refused her father's help and had righted herself on her own-that she didn't need protecting. She needed a challenge and he had issued one with his mocking laughter.

The little princess had answered admirably, with her head high executing a perfect curtsey the second time around.

A small smile stretched across his features but he was pulled from his thoughts by someone calling his name.

"Xavier," Hayden hissed, "are we going to stand here all night, or are we going to go in?"

"Quite!" He threw over his shoulder as he righted his dark jacket before motioning for Falin to raise the tent-flap.

Three pair of female eyes riveted on him but he ignored them and made his way to one of the side tables that held the liquor.

"Sister dearest, you need to stock up on better wine," Xavier said nonchalantly, pouring himself a glass of the red liquid.

"I do apologise, younger brother. Kindly do inform me beforehand next time you intend to host a war meeting and I'll buy up the best product from Garshail." He heard her sister's sarcasm-laced voice reply.

He rolled his eyes and took a large gulp from his glass. He needed the liquid fire to fuel him through the meeting. Especially after his dramatic exit earlier.

Xavier grimaced from the sharp aftertaste and was careful to pick up the glass in his uninjured hand. After brushing off the broken shards, he had made a makeshift bandage as the cuts weren't too deep.

He flexed his bandaged hand and turned around only to find familiar dark brown eyes assessing him with worry.

"Are you alright?" the princess asked, motioning towards his hand.

"I'm fine," he spat out as he took a chair across from his sister at the head of the table. Xavier regretted how cold he sounded and he noticed how closed off Charlotte's expressive face became.

He didn't want to push her away, rather quite the opposite. Nothing would make him happier than spiriting her away to a land without war where she would be safe, and more importantly, his.

But just as he had known instinctively that the little clumsy princess in the council room didn't need his help, he knew now that she wouldn't be happy with such a life. Charlotte was born to be a queen. And besides, with Avon after her would she ever truly be safe?