The Forgotten Princess

          I hated this already. I looked out of the carriage window at the blossoming trees passing by. The sounds of horse hooves hit the ground like a rhythm, bringing my unsteady breathing to a beat. I looked up at the guard who sat across from me, tears stinging my eyes.           “I did nothing to deserve this,” I cry.           “Silence. You have no reason to speak, woman.”           Maybe I should reconcile. This life I lead, as a beggar, has done nothing for me so far. I watched my mother starve to death when I was a child, just so my brother and I could have an extra portion of food. I did what I could to support James and myself.           James.           Suddenly tears flood my eyes again, dangerously close to spilling onto my cheeks. I never even got a chance to say goodbye to him. He won’t even know what happened to me. He’ll come home from work tonight and I won’t be there, all because I thought we needed another loaf of bread for our meal.           “I was going to pay the woman if the consistency of the bread was up to standard!”           “I said shut up!” The guard snapped at me before striking my face with the back of his hand.           My head snapped back, and I heard myself gasp. The tears finally got the courage to let themselves go and began sliding down my cheek. I hated letting people see me cry.           “Bastard,” I whispered.           He narrowed his eyes at me, no doubt readying himself for a counterattack, just as the carriage came to an unsteady stop. I was tossed from my seat to the floor just as the door opened, making it impossible to catch myself, and fell to the dirt below the carriage.           “You there, are you able to stand?” I heard a voice shout.           “Well, I can’t bloody see, so give me a moment,” I answer, blinking towards the silhouette.           “I was ill warned of such an attitude,” the man in front of me said, though I thought I heard a smile to his words.           “You were ill warned of this entire situation, that much I can inform you,” I finally manage my bearings and straighten myself to stand in front of my persecutor.           Blinking one final time against the sunlight I finally clear myself to look the man that stands in front of me in the face. The first thing I notice is his hair, how dark it is. The second thing I notice is his smile, how despite how black his hair looks makes his face look lighter. Finally, I look up and I notice the man’s eyes. They are so blue that I feel they put the sky to shame.           “I-“ I begin, unsure of what exactly I want to say to him. “Forgive me, kind sir.”           “You will only speak to the Prince by referring to him as His Grace or My Lord, understood peasant?” The guard that struck me informs me.           Normally I would have ripped into him with another snide remark about his attitude towards women, but his words have stopped me.          The Prince?!           Lord knows, that means, that the man standing before me is none other than the Prince of Arcadia himself.           The smirk that was just on his face has turned into a frown, no doubt for my lack of respect.           “My Lord, forgive me,” I stuttered.           “A proper introduction was not produced upon meeting me, the apology is mine,” he says, slowly searching my face.           “Oh no! Absolutely not! I was unaware and totally oblivious,” I ramble until he holds a hand up to stop me.           “Please, my lady, allow me to formally introduce myself, my name is Kayden, Prince of Arcadia, successor and future king.” He holds a hand out in my direction.           Slowly, I take it, gasping as the prince pulls my hand to his mouth and he kisses it lightly.           “May I have the name of the woman who fell from my carriage?” He asks with a grin.           “Kennah,” I whisper. “My name is Kennah Sherwood, and I am here to fight for my freedom.”           “Kennah,” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “That name suits you.”           “Thank you, My Lord,” I say, unsure of what he means.           “Freedom, eh?” he smirks again. “That’s why you’re here?”           “There has been some misunderstandings between your guard and I,” I tell him, shooting a look at the man who smacked me.           “Well, I think we will have everything settled quickly tonight,” he says, holding an arm out to me. “Shall we?”