--ONE WEEK LATER--
Breanne's death still hurts like hell, eating away at my brain at any chance it gets. It's like an open wound that won't heal. I miss her so much that every night, I go to her grave and cry. No one knows I do it- and I don't plan on anyone finding out.
Many things have happened since her funeral, though. Sadie and Brooke are the only two left. Amberly tells me I should pick Sadie, while Logan is trying to sway me towards Brooke. I care for them both deeply, but I don't feel a true connection to either of them. That'll be a problem- but if I choose one, I'll eventually learn to love them, right?
Time to think mean time for torturing my mind, with memories of Breanne and confusion about in which direction to go. Picking a wife also means picking a queen. I'll just have to choose based on that.
A sudden knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts.
"Come in," I say, sitting up on my bed.
"Hello, Gerad," my father says, walking in and sitting next to me. "We have some urgent news."
"Good or bad?" I ask, dreading the answer.
"Well..." He hesitates. "It depends what you make of it."
I shake my head. "Oh God."
After clearing his throat, he continues. "The British palace is under attack, by whom we have not been told. The King and Queen have begged for us to take their two daughters, Gwendolyn and Ashlyn, into safety for the time being."
"Not another girl!" I cry, falling back onto my bed. "And definitley not two! How old are they?"
"Gwendolyn is seventeen, and Ashlyn is thirteen," he replies, and I let out a strangled cry. Another girl, the age of the Selected girls. At my reaction, he adds, "I'm truly sorry, Gerad. I know it's hard, but it's the least we can do. The King and Queen may not survive the attacks. They need heir to the throne, and if they get killed and so do their daughters, they won't have any."
I sigh. "When are they arriving?"
"Tonight."
My eyes almost pop out of my head. "Tonight?"
"I'm sorry- it was a very sudden message. Please make them feel welcome, Son."
He pats my knee and walks out, leaving me angry, betrayed, depressed...
But hopeful.
--LATER THAT NIGHT--
Even from my room, where I've been pacing all afternoon, I can still hear the giant doors to the palace opening. My breath catches. She's here.
I walk out of my room and down the hall briskly until I find myself in a crowd filled with guards and nurses at the ready. One of the girls- the smaller one, who I'm assuming is Ashlyn- is already being taken away by some nurses. I push myself to the front of the hoard and rush to the older girl's side. Her head is down, her soaked hair covering her face. It must've been raining pretty hard outside. The doors swing closed and it becomes silent.
"May I have a towel?" I ask one of the nurses standing nearest me, and she hands me a towel quickly. I wrap it around Gwendolyn and immediately notice red smearing across the white material. My eyes widen and I part the crowd.
"Excuse us," I say quietly as I push through. Looking down at her, I whisper, "I'll get you somewhere quick."
The only place I can think to take her is my room. As fast as I can, I bring her into my large bathroom and sit her on the sink. Her body looks weak and her head hangs down, as if she doesn't have enough strength to keep it up.
"Hey. Hey, look at me. Look at me, Gwendolyn," I say rapidly, lifting her chin. Her eyes open slowly, and I freeze.
Blue eyes, with an icy tint to them.
Those are Breanne's eyes.
I blink a few times and then look at her eyes again, but they don't change. I swallow hard, and she looks at me, confused.
"Okay." I remove the towel from her shoulders and look for the source of the blood. Sure enough, there's a giant wound in her left arm. When I take a closer look, I realize there's a bullet in her arm. I take in sharp breath. "We need to get you to the hospital."
"No, please." Her voice is strained, begging. "Do it- do it yourself."
"I- I don't know how-"
"Medical kit." She points to the far wall of the bathroom where a medical kit hangs. I vaguely remember it containing tools to remove a bullet. I nod, still uncertain, and grab the medical kit.
"Do you need something to knock you out?"
"Get me something to bite down on," she says, her voice firm.
Obeying her orders, I find a rag and wet it, putting it in her mouth. She looks up at me, looking as if she's on the edge of trusting me or not trusting me. I guess in her mind, she has no choice but to trust me. I can't fail her.
Quickly, I read the step-by-step instructions on how to remove a bullet. Being a royal, I suppose it's important to know the basics. There are always some people trying to kill you.
"Ready?" I ask, clenching my jaw. This will hurt me, too; at least on the inside.
She nods her head, sweat building up on her forehead. She clamps her teeth down on the rag.
Without wasting any more time, I dig into the bullet wound. The rag muffles her screams, but doesn't mute them entirely.
Thank God the walls are soundproof.
-
By the time the bullet was finally removed, Gwendolyn was on the edge of consciousness. She never fully passed out, though. That takes strength.
After I had cleaned out the wound thoroughly, I had wrapped it up and placed her in my bed, with her still soaking wet. I had passed out in the chair on the other side of the room, exhausted from the stress of the situation.
"Prince Gerad?" a voice whispers, waking me. When my eyes flutter open, the first thing I see is Gwendolyn looking at me, concerned. She still hasn't dried completely from last night.
"Oh! Princess Gwendolyn. Nice to see you awake."
"Thank you so much for what you did last night," she says, a faint hint of a smile on her face.
"Anytime. How does it feel?"
She looks down at her bicep. "A little sore. Much better, though."
"I'm glad." I pause. "There's a shower in the bathroom, and I can send for fresh clothes if you'd like."
"That would be great." She wears plain clothes; dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. "After wearing dresses my whole life, I've forgotten how comfortable jeans are." She laughs.
"Would you like another pair of jeans? You don't have to wear a dress."
"That would be great, but if I'm meeting your family today, I should look good."
I'm about to say, You do look good, but I bite my tongue.
She's a pretty girl; very pretty at that. Layered dirty-blonde hair a bit past her shoulders, and those eyes. Like Breanne's.
"Take as long as you need in there. Be careful with your arm, Gwendolyn," I say, smiling at her. Make her feel welcome. I repeat my father's words in my head.
"Call me Gwen," she says, looking back at me with a smile as she enters the bathroom.
On the topic of my father, the rest of my family must be worried sick about Gwen and me. Do they know where we are? I can't tell them about what happened last night, or that we slept in the same room. I'll have to come up with something.
-
"Ah, there you two are!" my mother says as soon as we enter the dining hall. To my surprise, Brooke and Sadie are in there too, glaring at our guest. Seated next to Logan on the far side of the table is a young girl. Ashlyn.
Logan is only a couple years older than her. Hopefully they won't take a liking to each other, because both the girls will have to go back to Britain sometime in the future.
"This is Gwen- uh, Gwendolyn," I correct myself. She curtsies and I lead her to the table, where she takes a seat between Amberly and me.
"Welcome to to Illéa, Miss Gwendolyn," Amberly says quietly, kind as always.
"Yes. Welcome. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask us. I'm Queen America. It's a pleasure to meet you," my mother says, her voice gentle.
"I'm King Maxon. It's an honor to have you here," my father adds, and then gestures for Brooke to speak.
Brooke stares distastefully at Gwen. "I'm Brooke," she says, her tone flat. "One of the Selected girls." She could try a little harder to make it seem like she doesn't hate Gwen.
"I'm Sadie." Sadie's voice is a little warmer, but still not welcoming. "The other Selected girl."
"Nice to meet you," Gwen says, frowning. I smile on the inside. She knows what they're thinking- and she can play their game.
After breakfast, I decide to give Gwen a tour. Logan and Amberly decided to take Ashlyn on one at the same time, after Gwen checked up on her to make sure she was okay.
"I'm sorry about Brooke and Sadie," I whisper, worried that they're in the hall somewhere.
"It's okay," she whispers back. "I didn't expect anything different."
Puzzled, I look over at you. "What?"
"They've been fighting over you for months now, and a new girl gets here right as the competition is at a close. Why wouldn't they hate me?"
"I'm not- we're not-"
"I know," she says. "They're imagining what's not really there."
I nod. "You're right."
On the tour I learn that Gwen is a very smart girl, and very strong, too. Being the next in line for the throne of Britain, she's had to learn everything there is to know about the world, about people, and about herself; she apoligized in advance for being brutally honest. She's also had to learn self defense, but it doesn't stop there- she knows how to attack. There's nothing she doesn't know about fighting; she proved that as I asked her various questions that I even wouldn't know the answer to.
I think she'll like it here.
And I think I'll like her being here.
-
Major plot twist for ya. Just to keep things interesting, even if I just killed off a main character. Ahahah. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Gwendolyn is such a creative name, don't you think? Lol.
I posted Chapter Eight of The Second Choice yesterday and you should check it out and give me feedback, because it's a known fact that writers need feedback to survive.
Bye,
Eve