Hours later, as she stared at herself in the mirror, his words still rang in her ears. She had been angry when he'd said them, had barely listened, but now Kiara could not get them out of her head. He was wrong, even if he didn't realize it. Perhaps, it was her fault, the image she projected to the people, that he thought she knew nothing of the war, that she knew nothing of loss. What Ostus did not realize was that she had been surrounded by soldiers all of her life. She had never been allowed to leave, but that was exactly why he was wrong. Those soldiers were her friends, the only ones she could talk to, and each and every one had been sent away, never to return. She had known loss because of this war.

However, there was one other thing that her people did not know, could never know. It was only as she peeled off each layer of clothing that her secret became visible: a red, jagged scar that ran down the length of her right side, rib cage to hip. It was not the only thing she'd kept from her country, but it was probably the most important. There had been a night when she'd woken up, and thought it was the last.

[i]Her dreams had been of flying. Kiara had been a bird, free to go wherever she wanted. Her freedom had not lasted long, though, as she was awoken by a body on top of hers. It was dark, so dark, and she couldn't see who it was. The man was sitting on her, crushing her lungs and making it so she could barely breathe. Her heart crashed against her chest betraying the fear she was feeling even when she couldn't say a word.

His hand went to her throat, cutting off her air completely, and he raised a long knife that was obviously, even to her, made to kill. As he leaned towards her, Kiara could see the dark hair that covered his tan forehead. His eyes were hidden, but she did not need to see them. Even at thirteen, the princess had learned what to look out for in a person, how to know when someone was from one of the warring countries. He was from Berinike. That much could be seen, even before he started to speak.

Her hands scratched at his, as she tried to catch a breath, but he only laughed at her. "If you die, the war will be over. The poster child of your country in the ground. Your people will give up, knowing that we could get to even you." Kiara finally let out a sob as she realized he was right. With her death, the morale of their soldiers would be crushed. There was another possibility: that they would fight for revenge. But that would only blind them, get them killed too. Her eyes, which had always been warm and innocent, turned cold as she looked up at this man intent to kill her.

He was not expecting her to fight, so when she started to flail, he was caught by surprise. The hand around her throat let go, instead moving to her shoulder, trying to hold her down. The would-be assassin decided his best bet was the blade and raised it. A scream ripped from Kiara's throat as the knife tore into her skin. She'd tried to turn away at the last minute, but it had not mattered. It hurt, more than she had ever imagined anything could ever hurt, but still she kept fighting.

The soldiers in the hallway reacted to her cries, but when they burst through the door, all they saw was the young girl. At first, it had seemed like she'd only had a nightmare. None were prepared for what they found when they went to wake her.

The palace doctors had tried everything to get rid of the scar they knew would form when she was finally healed, but nothing had worked. It didn't matter, not really. For weeks, she had a fever so hot that they feared she would never wake up. When she did, all she wanted was to learn to use a weapon, so it would never happen again.[/i]

The memory faded when she pulled a faded blue dress over her head, and laced up a pair of walking boots. The backpack she grabbed was full of rations, water, and anything else she thought would keep her alive in the coming weeks. Before leaving the room, she let herself take one last look in the mirror, her fingers reaching out to touch her eyes. Ostus was wrong. She had known loss, known fear. It was hidden in her eyes.

When the sun began to set, she finally made her way down to where the soldier was waiting for her. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, the bow over the other, and her quiver strapped onto her back in between the two. Like this, no one would ever think she was royalty, and that was exactly what she was going for. When she reached Ostus, Kiara wouldn't look at him, though she did give him a nod of acknowledgement. Her voice was cold, not friendly as it was when they'd first met. "Are you ready then? Best get this over with as quickly as possible."