The Prince And The Pagan

Chapter 4: Saving The Prince

-Raven-

My hand began to tremble, the shaking traveling up my arm. I had held the knife above his heart for so long that I could barely keep my position.

“Come on, Raven,” I whispered to myself. “You can do this.”

I wanted to, truly, but it felt... wrong. He was wounded and near death. Killing him now would bring me no satisfaction. Realizing this, I slowly lowered the knife. No, this was too easy. The prince deserved to see my face before I struck. But first, I had to save him.

I sheathed the knife and moved around him, attempting to lift him by his arms. However, as I struggled to pull him across the ground, I realized it was impossible—he was simply too heavy. For a prince, he was surprisingly robust and strong.

Sitting down in frustration, I glanced over my shoulder. I needed help. I sprang up and ran toward the village hidden in the forest. It was quiet as I entered. A few villagers were going about their chores and looking after the children. The rest must have been at the meeting.

I hurried toward the large tent designated for such gatherings. It was enormous and could accommodate our entire village.

I burst inside, pushing aside the fabric curtain at the entrance. The tent was filled with people seated in rows, facing the council at the end of a long table. The crowd was loud, engaged in a heated argument, but I had no time to listen to their discussion.

I darted down the narrow path between the rows and made my way to the council, where my father was seated in the middle.

“Raven?” he asked, looking shocked. “What are you doing here?”

He seemed taken aback that I had found out about the meeting. But how could I not have? It felt like everyone knew except me. But that was a matter for later—I had a prince to save right now.

“I found something,” I said, breathless.

“Raven, we’re in a meeting. Can’t it wait?”

I shook my head vigorously, struggling to catch my breath. The prince had barely been breathing when I found him. He might not survive while I was here.

“What is it?” my father asked, his tone growing impatient.

He probably thought I’d discovered a lost wolf pup or something equally trivial. He was in for a shock.

“I found the prince!” I exclaimed. “He’s at the river, and he’s wounded.”

My father leapt from his seat, joined by others who had grown silent and were now focused on me.

“What did you say?”

“You need to hurry!” I urged. “Bring the healer—he needs help!”

My father remained frozen, struggling to process my words.

“Now!” I insisted.

People sprang into action, with half of the meeting attendees following me to the river. Someone had been sent to fetch the healer.

“Over here!” I called out.

My father, the rest of the council, and the others from the meeting arrived at the riverbank, where the prince still lay on his back. His pale color had become even clearer, and I crouched beside him before I looked up at my father, who stared in stunned disbelief.

“What in the Gods’ name...”

Suddenly, the crowd parted as our healer arrived. He knelt beside the prince, his practiced eyes immediately assessing the severity of the wound. It was a severe gash in his stomach.

“Will he survive?” I inquired.

He had to survive. How else could I make his family pay? The healer’s expression was grim as he examined the wound. His wrinkled face, marked with faded tattoos that had blurred over the years, betrayed his concern.

“I need help,” the healer said.

Four large hunters came over to help lift the prince from the ground.

“We need to get him back to my tent as quickly as possible.”

The men began carrying him away, with the healer and me trailing behind.

“Can you save him?” I asked urgently.

The old healer remained silent, but his eyes conveyed a lack of hope. I couldn’t accept this. He had to survive!

“You have to save him!” I said, grabbing the healer’s arm as we moved toward the tent.

“Raven!” my father called, making me stop and release the healer. “Let him work.”

The healer disappeared into the tent with the prince and the hunters. I was left standing there, feeling a surge of anxiety. He couldn’t die.

“How did you find him?” I hadn’t noticed my father approaching until he gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Huh?” I looked from the tent’s entrance to my father’s concerned face.

“How did you find him?” he repeated.

“I just... found him,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I-I don’t know. I saw something by the river, and there he was,” I explained. “I didn’t hurt him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Raven,” he said, his voice deep and concerned. “We all know your story.”

I sneered and took a step back. I didn’t want to discuss it—the m******e, the horror. I tried my best to avoid thinking about it.

“Raven, don’t go near him,” he said firmly.

“What?” I inquired, feeling confused. “I’m the one who saved him.”

“You heard me!” he snapped, pointing at me. “Stay away from him.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Anger clouds judgment. You know that. Let Dimar handle it, and let’s finish the meeting.”

“So now you want me to be part of the meeting?”

“Raven—”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Do you even want me to be your successor, or are you choosing someone else?”

But he remained silent. Frustrated, I walked away, almost stomping like a petulant child. I made my way to the nearest small fireplace and sat down on one of the tree stumps arranged around it. I kicked a stone, watching it bounce off the larger rocks scattered around the now-dead fireplace, which was nothing but ash.

“Raven?” I looked up to see my mother’s gentle eyes studying me with concern.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” I said, though it was a lie.

“I heard you and your father,” she said softly, sitting down beside me. She took my hand in hers, and, as always, her touch brought a sense of calm.

“He doesn’t consider me his daughter,” I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

“Of course, he does,” she replied.

“Then why keep the meeting a secret?”

“Because you still have a lot to learn,” she said, gently placing her other hand on my cheek. Her green-blue eyes radiated such love that it was hard to stay angry.

“How am I supposed to learn if he keeps me in the dark?”

“Not everything can be taught,” she explained. “Some lessons come from experience.”

You don’t say, I thought bitterly.

“Come,” she said, standing up. “Let’s make some food.”