Like always, a crowd was gathered when I arrived at school. Usually, royals don't go to school, so the students always make a fuss whenever I arrive. My guards follow me to the gates—four burly men whose faces are permanently etched into a frown—parting the crowd to make way for me. Two of them stand guard in front of me, while the other two stand behind me, making me temporarily untouchable.
The school I attend is a private institution designed for children of high-ranking parents. Nobles, government officials, people like that. The school is sitting right at the border between Ardon and Udova, which means that many of the kids attending are of mixed races. This also means that the school is one of the leading reasons for the conflict. Most of the time, whenever an Ardonian or Udovan citizen was made principal, they made sure to work according to their own beliefs. Which meant one side was being favored, while the other side was suffering from the injustice. So one day, the kings came to an agreement. Only an immigrant who was neither Ardonian nor Udovan will sit in the principal's chair. Our current principal, Principal Andrews, is from the neighboring country, "Lellona."
Since the school is shared by two countries at conflict, it was only normal for the students to be at odds with each other. What's worse, though, is the dress code: every student is to wear clothes resembling their kingdom's colors. This only succeeds in adding to the already tense atmosphere of the school.
For me, things are different. Although Ardonian and Udovan kids are at each other's throats all the time, I am the only exception. Why? Because so far, I am the only royal attending the school. Sometimes, I marvel at most Ardonians' loyalty to their kingdom. The level of loyalty that is non-existent. I wonder if it would be the other way around if their princes attended here.
I walk through the school hallways with an authority I can't seem to control. I suppose I have been taught to act a certain way since birth, so it's only right. But sometimes I get tired of all of those beady eyes staring at me like they're starving vultures hungry for a meal.
I stop by my locker, fumbling with the lock. I change the code every day, lest someone try to break in. That doesn't help me sometimes, though. I have a bad habit of forgetting numbers.
"Come on," I mutter impatiently. "Open." I tug harshly at the lock, as if force might get it to open up.
Just then, I feel my sight go dark as huge hands cover my eyes.
"Guess who?" The playful voice says, as if I would never be able to guess the answer.
"The idiot who thinks he's funny?" I say, keeping my voice carefully cool, but I can't help the grin that spreads across my face.
My boyfriend chuckles, unfazed by my insulting remark. "Come on, my jokes always make you laugh," he says, pulling his hands back from my face.
I roll my eyes, turning around to face him. He seems to think he's funny with his lame dad jokes, but I know better. "Have I ever fallen for any of your jokes?"
"Multiple times," he quips with a crooked smile that makes my heart flutter. "You've fallen for this one, haven't you?" he gestures to himself, calling himself a darn joke.
"You're calling yourself a joke?" I raise a questioning brow, physically restraining myself from laughing out loud.
"Well, you just love jokes!" he teases, poking me in the stomach.
"Ow- hahaha," I alternate between laughing and wincing as his finger continues to poke at the same spot on my stomach repeatedly, making it sore. "Aspen, stop."
He shrugs, a smile painting his face so bright, I consider forgiving him for the relentless onslaught. "My bad."
"You are not apologetic at all."
He winks at me playfully, grinning widely. "You know it, darling."
"Hmmph," I turn away from him, turning back to opening my locker. But when he wraps his arms around me, I stiffen, my breath getting caught in my throat. Just what is he doing?
"I'm sorry, love," he murmurs low in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. He must have felt the reaction, because he chuckles, the sound sending vibrations all over my body. God, his voice is so hot.
"Shut up," I whisper. The control I have over my voice is astonishing, because I was so sure the words would come out as an inaudible whimper.
But nothing gets past my boyfriend, because he then whispers softly, "I'll see you at our spot during lunch." I can practically feel the smirk in his voice, anticipating what's to come. But not today. I won't give him the satisfaction of my lips on his. Not after the way he so blatantly acted in public.
"We'll see," I mutter, my voice a challenge.
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Class was boring, as usual, nothing I haven't learnt already. Sometimes I wonder if I even need to go to school, but this is the only place I get to see my friends and boyfriend.
The teachers have been lenient to me, of course. They can't risk everything just to bother a royal. They know I'm not the type of person to get back at them tenfold for something they are doing correctly, but it still hurts me that they're cautious.
I'm top of my class at school, there's no surprise there. I get nothing but perfect scores, and nobody can do anything about it. Of course, sometimes I lose a mark or two, but it doesn't bother me. There is always room for improvement.
This morning, I was in history class, learning about Ardon and Udova's history. This is also something I already know, having grown up in the Udovan royal palace. But that doesn't make me any less interested.
The history teacher drones on and on about the conflicts, how and why they started. Most of the students were dozing off, finding the lesson boring, while some others were glaring daggers at those wearing their opposite colors. I kept on getting the most glances, since I was a Udovan princess, related to the topic at hand, but they dared not throw dirty looks in my direction.
The teacher speaks about Ardon's brutality and cowardice, drawing protests from many of the Ardonian students. Even though our principal is from Lellona, it doesn't mean the teachers are as well. Mr. Lenny is Udovan, which explains all the anti-Ardon speech he is using for today's class.
I raise a hand lazily, drawing his gaze to me. "Sir, I think it's better to refrain from any negativity in our class. Let's keep it neutral, for the benefit of peace." I gesture to the fuming Ardonians in the class. They look like they are ready to charge at Mr. Lenny.
"Oh," he blinks, noticing the tense atmosphere of the classroom. "My apologies, princess. Let's continue."
When Mr. Lenny resumes the lesson, my best friend Lilly turns to me from her seat in front, speaking in a hushed whisper. "Why'd you say that? I thought you hated Ardon."
I don't say anything, pretending not to hear her. Yes, I hate Ardon. That's a fact set in stone. In fact, I'm sure nobody hates the kingdom more than I do. Every time that name alone is brought up, anger flares in me so hot, I wish I could let it consume me. I want to destroy Ardon for what it did to my younger brother. Ardon citizens took him from me. My sweet, innocent baby brother.
It happened six years ago when we were out playing in the local park. Two palace guards were standing not too far from us, hidden by the shadow of trees. My older sister, Avaline, was perched on a bench nearby, reading a book.
Russell and I were playing hide-and-seek, hiding in, under, and behind numerous objects in the park. We hid under benches, behind trees, and inside the dry fountain fixed in the middle of the park. The park itself was nothing grand; it was just a patch of ground with one or two benches lying about.
It was my turn to seek, so I had my eyes closed, counting down to one. We had been following this practice for hours, repeating many hiding spots over and over, but never getting tired of the game.
"Ten!" I exclaimed, getting ready to go search for my younger brother. I began the tedious work of peering at places my ten-year-old sibling could have hidden in. I looked in the fountain, under benches, behind trees. I even resorted to searching the shops nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. When half an hour had passed and the sun started to set, I started panicking. And when Avaline came looking for me, ready to go home, I burst into sobs. When I told her I couldn't find Russell, her face fell. She ordered one of the two guards to look for him, and the other to stick with us.
I saw it when we were running past an alleyway. It was a shadow, raising a long blade that was hooked at the end, and plunging it down. The scream I heard made my blood freeze, my breath coming in panicked, shallow pants. I ran away from my yelling sister and from the startled guard. That scream. I knew it. But I couldn't help but wish it were anything but true.
I reached the heart of the alleyway, and what I saw there only confirmed my cursed suspicions.
On the ground was a body. The body of my now-dead brother, bleeding out. There was a deep gash on his chest, and blood was gushing out of the wound. I dropped to my knees, tears obscuring my vision, my hands on his chest to stop the blossoming blood. But it was too late. His eyes had gone glassy and unseeing by the time I reached him. And the perpetrator was gone.
But there was one thing I saw, before the criminal left, before I reached my brother's dead body. One thing I will never forget.
I saw someone fleeing the scene.
And that someone was dressed in the red and gold colors of Ardon.