The long trek to the border did little to quiet his mind. Once the insolent words of his General finally stopped echoing in the Prince’s mind, it wandered to more tender wounds. Occasionally he would catch himself staring at the stoic faces of his troops as they marched dutifully around him, their eyes fixated on the road ahead. Their stern fortitude shamed him—if they could stand so boldly before the bloodbath he was leading them to, the petty affairs of the heart were no excuse to break. He couldn’t, for their sake. And his.
Her heart pounded in her throat as the Princess spurred her steed onward, his pace thundering through the autumn leaves damp with dew. How could she have been so foolish, so selfish? There wasn’t time to mull her friend’s question over; once she heard the Prince had set off with his army, she knew she had to act. If she could return to him, maybe she could stop the battle before it claimed her friends within the ranks. It didn’