Quick A\N

This time last year is the first day I published the first chapter of Runaway Princess! I look back and I see how far this book has gone from then, when it was just a shot in the dark. 80 thousand reads and over 350 comments? Yes, I'll take it gladly! Thank you guys so much, you are all so awesome. I want to you to know that you guys are what make this book worth writing- without my readers a book is hardly a book, just paper filled with words that no one understands. I write the words, but you breathe the life into this book with your inspirational comments and votes. So, here's to you, guys.

Lyra's POV

The wind blows softly, tousling my hair as I stand on the outside of the arena, my arms folded.

Salt and hay is carried on the breeze, and I tear my gaze from the men to look longingly at the stable in the distance. I can feel Lasreal is restless; he has been straining at our bond for my attention all day, singing a sweet psalm to beckon me to him.

I will come when I can. Be still. I tell him and I practically hear his snort of disapproval. He wants to get out of his prison and run.

I know the feeling well.

A grunt calls my attention back to the arena, and I turn my head just in time to see a man land in the dust a few feet from me. That contender lost.

Some were around twenty to thirty men from both the Knights of Nordic, and the subjects as well have come to try their hands for the Guard. Many young men in Nordic grow up playing with their friends, using sticks as swords, taking turns pretending to be the Captain of the Guard or Head Knights of the castle: they are seen as two of the most rewarding occupations and the most sought after.

But rarely do normal subjects and peasants become that high ranked with their skills, and have to settle as blacksmiths or farmers instead to keep food on their tables. Sometimes dreams just aren't enough.

Typically, these men would be faced against Hana for a spot on the Guard, but he hasn't returned, and it is nearing the end of the day. So, being the next top fighter, Camisêal is the one whom they face.

There are few higher ranking men here, as noblemen connot be bothered with the dirty work of swords and daggers, but the occasional peasant has shown to try their luck. So far, they've all been beaten. An older man steps up to go next against Camisêal.

I watch, though my mind finds itself else were; it roams to back when I was a "boy" with the mercenaries. I've never had so much freedom before, filling my very soul with its existence.

It wanders back to Adolin, back to the day that our scores were settled by our fists.

I'd never been one for hand to hand combat, but Lance insisted that I learn it- he insisted I learn sword fighting as well. I can still hear his voice saying, "Those without swords can still die upon them."

I remember the blood and the sweat that I shed to earn my keep as one of them. I remember Syl's fiery red locks, and the freckles on her fierce face. God did well in matching her hair color to her temper.

I think of Kaladin, and the mercy he had on me, when he should have had none- and with him, thoughts of him in my chambers last night. He was acting very strange, but I am grateful that he came to watch over me none the less.

But most of all, I think about Jed- the way his face was always kind, the way the sunshine danced through his golden hair and onto his fair face. He was always there for me, and would not turn my secret over, even to the leader and friend he's trusted for years. In a way, I owe him and Syl my life. I owe them all my life.

I shake the memories away, and my gaze finds the sunset sinking with miraculous oranges, pinks and reds behind the stable. I had wished to see Las before dusk- I wanted so badly to ride him today. Perhaps I will take a Guard or two with me and go in the morning.

The pounding in my temples has lessened over the hours, growing more faint since I spoke to the King, but I still find it as distracting as my thoughts.

Camisêal's fair locks are plastered to his forehead with sweat as he holds the sharp tip of his blade to the older man's bare throat. A moment of labored breathing passed before my Gruardsmen pulls his sword away and holds a hand out to help the man from the dust.

The man laughs and clasps Camisêal's hand. "Thank you, sir, it's always been a dream of mine to try for the Guard- even though I could not make it, Thank you for allowing me to try."
Camisêal barely musters a smile in return as he pulls the man to his feet, weakened by his work.

The man goes to leave, and stops to bow to me on his way, as all of the other men before him had done. "Thank you for this gracious chance you have given me, My Lady." He says, eyes lowered.

I nod and gesture for him to straighten. I've never been keen on having others bowing and wanting to please me, like overly loyal dogs. "Thank you for participating." I watch him go before waving Camisêal over.

My Guardsmen comes swiftly as his weary feet allow and bows. Despite his un-tucked shirt and unkempt hair and face, I touch his shoulder when most nobility would have sneered at him and turned up their powdered noses.

"Stand." I wait until he is level with me before continuing, my hand still on his white tunic. "Take a rest, we can continue this tomorrow- perhaps by then Hana will have returned to carry out this duty himself. You've done well today, and it is getting late anyhow."

He looks grateful, and bows his head. "As you wish, My Lady." He then turns to tell the remaining men the news I have given him.

I am about to leave the fight and stench of sweat when something stops me. I squint into the horizon to take a better look at the silhouette walking towards us.

Hener is next in line to fight for his place, and I know will be the third man to earn a spot on the newly created Guard tomorrow.
His gaze is on the moving figure as well.

I look at Hener and his gaze locks onto mine. He is questioning- is that him? Is it Hana?

I glance back to the shadow, noting the visible sword hilt on the man's hip, and I then notice the way he walks: there is a slight limp to his left side when he steps.

My brow furrows and I hold a closed fist to Hener, a language that he understands as a no-go.

The Guard and the Knights use their hands to communicate in combat situations, when speaking would be unsafe.

Hener's eyebrows furrow as well, matching mine.

"Its not him. I don't know who it is." I whisper, and by the slight tilt of Hener's head, I know he heard me from the yards of space between us. He read my lips.

He takes on an aggressive note as he moves out of the dispersing line, towards me- not to harm me, of course, he wishes to ask permission to confront the man and ask him to state his business here. It has become clear that the man is focusing on coming towards were we stand. What business might he have here?

Jensen, a handsome man in his late twenties with black curly locks, steps in front of me, into the way of Hener. "I cannot allow you access to the Princess." He says, as if his muscular arms and chest weren't enough of a threat, his voice takes on a specific undertone.

I lay a hand on the large Guard's bicep, stepping from behind him. "It is alright, he means no harm, Jensen." I pause to point to the approaching men, and Jensen's eyes follow. "He is doing as a Knight should, and is seeing who he is. He was merely asking my permission beforehand."

I look past him at Hener, who is looking frustrated at my Guard. He's thinking that Jensen must be as moronic as a chicken for not noticing sooner, and most likely wondering how he's kept a Guard position for so long.

"I am going to escort the man, once disarming him as a threat, sir." Hener explains curtly. His eyes find mine as he speaks, and I nod silently, giving him permission to go see who the approaching man is. If not Hana, I cannot think of any other Guards who have left that would be returning. Perhaps it is someone who has heard of the forming of the new Guard and has come to try his hand.

The Knight bows before stalking off with the dangerous swagger of a lion towards the offending men. Before he gets too far I send Nikeil with him, to make certain he doesn't do anything rash.

I wait with Jensen as we watch the scene play out.

-

A\N

Awkward place to leave off, and I know it's too short, as usual... sorry! Wanted to make sure I updated since I know it's been more than a week, and you've all been asking. I didn't want to keep you holding your breath! Also, didn't review it very well before I uploaded this chapter, if there is anything wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!

I wanted to elaborate on a few things: for some reason, Wattpad won't let me upload any more pictures to new chapters, and seems to be erasing some of the content from other chapters as well. When that bug is fixed, I'll be sure to go back and re-post them- sorry for the inconvince, guys. Posted a picture of the model for Hener!

I know, I know, you wanted Jed and Lyra in this chapter, but I will get to it soon, don't worry! Sorry, my little shippers... just hold the love for a chapter longer! A new character is going to be introduced in the next chapter as well, and I hope you enjoy them!

One more thing that I may have mentioned in the a/n of the last chapter: if any of you enjoy werewolf books, I encourage you to check out The Grace Factor. It's another book by me, and I pride myself of being able to say that it is very different than the clichéd werewolf books on here. I'd really love if you'd give it a chance :)

Love,

-A.