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"They're coming, Your Majesty."

Geiya's eyes shone with fear. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and neck. I turned to look at my father at the head of the table. His eyes held no emotion. I looked at my mother, her eyes screamed with fear. I looked at my little sister, so many tears had gathered in her eyes, that they were almost rolling down her cheeks.

"Leave us Geiya."

My father finally spoke. He didn't look up, he didn't flinch. I had never seen him like this. Was he scared? No. My father was never afraid. He fought multiple battles in his time and always emerged victorious.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Seconds later, the door closed leaving the four of us alone. We all sat in dreadful silence. No one dared to touch the food on their plates. Outside the door, you could hear the clicking together of swords. The groans of men in pain. You could smell the blood oozing out of their bodies. You could almost taste it.

"I'm scared Father."

I looked up at Nayla. The tears had travelled down her cheeks and to her chin. My mother placed her hand over hers in an attempt to give her some comfort. It failed. Her tears continued to fall with ease.

"Did I teach you to be scared Nayla?"

My eyes travelled to where my father sat. He was a man who rarely showed emotions. Whenever Mother would tell tales of how he swept her off her feet, I would always wonder how that man turned into the stone-cold King we called father.

"No father."

Nayla shook her head slowly, not daring to look at him. She was the most scared of our father. I didn't blame her. She was a twelve-year-old who wasn't allowed to be just that. My father started training her to fight with swords when she was just five. Anytime she would hurt herself, he would yell at her to stop crying. He would tell her not to be weak. He would always say "Wounds heal but your dignity does not".

"Bring me some water Leiya."

I quietly rose to my feet. He had asked all the maids to leave us and I wouldn't dare to disobey him. I picked up the large wooden jug on the other end of the table with both hands. The sounds coming from the other side of the walls overshadowed the sound of water pouring into his cup. I stood so close to him that I saw little moisture on his temple. Sweat.

My father never sweated, except, of course, he was in battle. Even when he trained, he never broke a sweat. He always said they were nothing compared to all the battles he fought. My hands trembled as I held the jug firmly to myself. My father, the strongest man in the whole Herra kingdom, who all my life taught me never to be afraid, was... afraid.

"It is time."

He took a sip out of the cup I had just poured water into. Taking his time to swallow before he continued.

"Degar could kill me and your mother but he wouldn't kill you both. A man of pride that he is would rather parade you both to his kingdom as spoils of war."

He clenched his fists around the cup. If it wasn't made of strong wood, it would have succumbed to my father's angry chokehold.

"Whatever happens, do not lose sight of each other. Always be within reach of one another. You both are stronger together than you will ever be apart."

This was my father's way of saying goodbye to Nayla and I. I looked up to meet his eyes. They weren't as commanding and certain as they always were. I saw an emotion I had never seen before but I wasn't sure what it was. He nodded his head lightly. I knew he was putting me in charge of looking after my sister. I nodded back. I was going to do it with my last blood.