12 Homecoming V (2/2)

Despite the situation, Hilde was jolted once again by the realization that she did not know his name – she had asked for Frieda's, why did she not ask for his and the others'? The least she owed the men was to know what to call them by. Those four soldiers might get hurt or even die because of her thoughtless decision to stop in a random village, whose residents tended to be insular and more nationalistic than townspeople.

And here she had been imagining she might finally get the chance to fight battles, and perhaps lead them, as her brother did before her. Some commander of soldiers she'd make when she didn't even know something as basic as learning the names of the people she was responsible for.

Only a few moments had passed, yet Hilde found she was about to sink further into panic and helplessness. During the crisis with the Lyseans earlier, it had been easier to keep a cool head because she had been the one in control of the situation.

This time, it was different. The crowd outside had abandoned reason and was now in the grip of their collective emotions. How can such a beast be controlled by anyone, let alone by an untried teenager who could barely handle her own feelings?

Just outside the carriage window, a male voice spoke quietly in Lysean. Being so near, Hilde had heard the orders clearly, and they made intuitive sense to her. The Arnicans hated the Lyseans so much they would take the first available chance to reduce the other side to rubble. The Lyseans becoming instantly defensive at the first sign of a challenge would be just the excuse the Arnicans wanted.

No, what didn't make sense to Hilde was the recognition of who had given those orders.

Leal was a common name in Lys. Many of their kings had been named thus, and it was also much used by their general populace. Hilde had thought absolutely nothing of it when ”Leal of Lys” introduced himself as such – he was only one among an entire legion.

But while that was still very much true, it now appeared that THIS Leal of Lys was the one standing at the head of that legion.

Hilde shifted her gaze to look at the Viscount.

He too had realized exactly what had been revealed by what they just overheard. He was also turning towards her, his nervousness now showing in his crinkled and honest-looking eyes. After seeing the expression on Hilde's face that seemed to be asking ”Are you people insane?” the Viscount could only wince.

In the village's market square, the scene had shifted once again, and hearing the Arnican captain shouting about her and what she'd done brought Hilde's full attention back to the situation.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what the consequences would be if this Lysean prince died on Arnican soil. Never mind that no one but Hilde had known it, these people had been sent to them as a token of friendship. Any way you look at it, Arnica would be the one in the wrong if they murdered their guests.

And wasn't this almost the same reasoning they had for wanting to conquer the northern states? Would Lys really sacrifice its future king just to get a similar excuse?

She barely even noticed how her aches and lightheadedness had been, for the moment, swept to the side by the adrenaline being pumped into her bloodstream.

'Must this situation really fall on MY head?' she couldn't help but think. There was no denying it: it was far more than what she was prepared to handle.

”Princess…” she heard someone outside say faintly, and again, louder, ”Princess!”

Soon, it wasn't only that lone female voice calling out, but seemingly every villager outside, from old to young, all crying out their grief and fears.

”I think it's fine now, Your Highness,” Viscount Renard said quietly, addressing Hilde the same way he would the royals in his own kingdom. With a sympathetic expression, he then explained, ”I suspect they are overwhelmed that one of their queendom's heirs has unexpectedly come to them. They are looking to you for reassurance. For strength.”

Hilde acknowledged the words with a grateful bow but didn't speak. Her heart was in her throat, and now more than ever, she was feeling like a complete imposter.

Reassurance? Strength? What exactly can she offer anyone? She wasn't even confident she could get herself to stand again without help.

Hilde clenched her teeth so hard her already aching head throbbed. Her people were calling for a princess. She suspected any royal would have done, but she was the only one around. Nothing else matters – there's no one here but her to answer their call.

Hilde reached for the door handle, twisted it, and pushed the door open. With her very last reserves of strength, she climbed down the carriage, not thinking twice about taking the supporting arm being offered to her. It would only be pure silliness to pretend she didn't need it, at this point.

Gripping the man's gray-sleeved arm tightly with one hand, Hilde raised her head. The villagers recognized her face and renewed their cries, ”Princess Hilde! Princess!”

That was all they said, her name and nothing else. But from their voices and expressions, these were what Hilde understood: they were her people, this was her home, she was Princess Hilde and no one else.

Her own tears began to fall freely. As she swept her eyes over the crowd, she nodded her own wordless understanding. ”She will,” her tearful nodding was saying. Whatever they were asking of her, she will do it.

With that resolve, Hilde felt the last of her strength leave her. Then she knew nothing else.