Outside, the sky was a brilliant blue. I couldn't focus on my lessons at all. Look at all that sky! And – oh! – the clouds. I imagined taking a nap on them. That would be nice, wouldn't it? I could be Elizabeth: Queen of the Sky. I would be a kind queen, who granted the wishes of all her subjects. No one would be sad under my reign, and there would be no more rainy days to ruin our fun. Why, I'd soar through the skies on elegant white wings, like a dove. I would spread peace throughout the kingdom, a—

"Elizabeth," hissed my brother, nudging my arm with his elbow.

I blinked rapidly. His touch brought me back to reality in an instant. I had almost forgotten we were still in class. Well, if you could call sitting in our father's study, writing assignments on French a "class." Our tutor sat at her desk, writing whatever down. I had stopped doing my work to daydream, it seems. It was a good thing my twin brother, Peter, reminded me of the time being. Mrs. Weatherburg didn't like slackers. I was in certain danger of getting hit with her ruler of doom.

Though my father was the king of the land, he made sure that my brother and I got our education. He wanted us to be treated like normal children. That was a bit hard, though, considering normal ten-year-olds don't learn a second language. As a child, I had plenty of time on my hands; as royalty, I got private lessons. Father would have much rather sent us to a public school, but Mother believed that it would cause problems. She said that other children would pretend to be our friends; that teachers would naturally give us special treatment, thus other children would resent us. We were much safer in the comfort of our castle.

But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to be free. And when I told my father that, he happily obliged. I was given a common dress much like the girls I saw wearing when we went to town. Father showed me a secret path he used as a child that lead to the vast meadow behind our castle. Since then, that place had become my getaway. When school was over and no one was looking for me, I snuck off to be alone, to daydream.

Sometimes I would find the time to bring my brother with me. But that was in the past. Since we turned ten, Brother had been kept busy almost all day, every day. It got lonely out there in my field. My imaginary friends and stuffed animals kept me the most company. Still, they weren't a great substitute for human affection.

That day, after French lessons were over, I hurried to my room and changed into a simple brown dress. My pink bunny lie on my bed, and I grabbed him. Then I hurried out the hidden place in the wall. Such a beautiful day could not be wasted. Before I went to the room, I took one last look at my brother as he trudged down the hall to his swordplay lessons. It made me feel awful. While I played all day, my brother was doing all the work: swordplay, archery, etiquette. Peter barely had enough time to be a kid. With a sigh, I went to the person-free garden and pushed the compartment in the wall.

I crawled through the tight space and ended up on the other side of the castle wall. I lifted the ends of the dress and ran out to the hill, the highest point of the valley. There, I could see most of the village. It was a steep hill, but I could make it if I hurried. The hill was the place where I had tea parties and watched the clouds. That day was perfect to play tag with Peter, but I would have to settle for cloud-watching with Floppy.

However, that day was a day for destiny. When I made it to the top of the hill, I wasn't alone. To my surprise, a boy laid on the grass in my spot! My spot! He had scarlet hair, wore odd, warm clothes and an eye patch over his right eye. The other eye was as green as an emerald. "Hey, what are you doing here?" I demanded.

Noticing me for the first time, he sat up and blinked. His one eye gave me a suspicious once-over, and then he frowned a bit. "Lying here…?" he said like Duh!

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You can't be here," I said. "This is my spot. How did you even get here?" I looked around the area. "The way into the village is around that wall."

He never smiled at all, that boy. "I know; my grandpa went there to get to the entrance of the castle. I was told to stay here and that's what I'm going to do."

I smirked a bit, deciding to tease him some. Did he not realize whom he was speaking to? "He'll never get passed the guards. You two are travelling beggars, aren't you? The queen won't allow the king to give up a cent."

"I don't think you understand, kid," he replied bitterly, squinting angrily. "We're not beggars: we're Bookmen."

The word was so new to me. Of all the things I had learned in ten years, the term "Bookman" almost sounded foreign. When I thought of Book-man, I thought of a superhero who saves the world with literature. "Well, what's a Bookman then?" I asked, growing unreasonably upset.

Feeling a bit superior now that he knew something I didn't, it was his turn to smirk. "We record history," he explained. "We travel from place to place with new identities with the sole purpose of jotting down the events of history; we have perfect memories and skills unknown to others. The most fun is that I know so much more than everyone."

"An arrogant historian, huh?" I countered.

He let out a small chortle. "You could say that," he said quietly, which made me giggle a bit. The wind picked up and whipped his white scarf to the side. It silent for a few moments: my brown eyes meeting his one green eye. After a moment of debating it, I finally asked what his name was. The boy wet his lips with a distant look in his eye. "Zane," he finally said.

I offered my hand. "My name is Elizabeth." Zane looked at my hand as if it were poison oak. I expected a "Bookman" to at least know what a handshake was. Instead of taking my outstretched hand, he raised his eyebrow. "Or not…" I said, pretending like I was okay with that. "Do you want to watch the clouds with me, Zane?"

He shrugged and lay back down on his back. "Why not? I've got nothing better to do until Gramps arrives." I took my place beside Zane on the grass. To my confusion, he actually scooted away from me. I frowned at him, sitting up on my forearms.

"Aren't you a little old to be afraid of cooties?" I almost snapped.

"It's not cooties," he snapped back, shooting upright. "It's just…"

"What?" I prodded.

"It's just – I-I'm not comfortable around people."

Anti-social, arrogant historian? Sighing deeply, I made a decision to show him that he didn't need to be uncomfortable around me. Reaching forward before he could flinch away, I grabbed Zane's hand and locked pinkies with him. He blinked, blushing a bit, and glared at me. "What's the big idea?" he mumbled.

"Look, see? It doesn't burn or anything." I smiled. "You don't have to be all weird around me. Alright?"

Zane's careful eye stared at our entwined fingers for a long while.

"I pinky swear," I urged jokingly.

The comment brought his eye up to meet mine. In that moment, our eyes locked together. It would be impossible for me to forget him now.

Interrupting the moment, an old man came on to the scene. He was short, wore a beanie and warm clothing like Zane. He had dark circles around his eyes. Whether it was make-up or not, I couldn't tell.

"Zane!" he snapped, and immediately, Zane pulled away from me and stood on his feet. Confused, I also stood. The old man stopped in front of us and studied me. "Who are you, young lady?"

Not expecting the question, I baffled like an idiot until I uttered out my name. He started to seem creepy as he looked at me head-to-toe, and I began wondering if I should call my father. But just as I was about to, he grunted and took out a cigarette. "Zane. Let's go," he said sternly. Very obediently, Zane followed after the retreating man, heading to the town again. "You should get back to town as well, girl," the old man called back. "Your parents must be worried sick."

I pursed my lips, folding my arms across my chest stubbornly. I was waiting for Zane to turn and wave goodbye or something, but he never did. He walked away from me without even a single glance back. And truthfully, it kind of hurt. Snatching up Floppy from the grass, I stormed back to the castle. Thankfully no one was on the other side of the hidden stone, but even if they were, I wouldn't care. I was upset.

I wanted nothing more than to go after that good for nothing Zane and throw my stuffed animal at him. Instead, I went to my room and changed into my dress. The only thing at that moment that would make me feel better was playing with my brother. When I came out of my room, I found the nearest servant and asked him if he knew where Peter was.

"The last I saw him, he was headed to the throne room, mistress," replied the servant. I thanked him and hurried on my way to the throne room. Odd. Why would he be there? We only went to the throne room when someone was being knighted or when there were visitors. Brother and I were strictly prohibited from going to trials.

Perhaps there's a knighting that Father didn't tell me about? I wondered. I soon found out that it wasn't a knighting at all. Once I made out the shape of my older brother peeking through a crack in the throne-room doors, I hurried down the hall. The guards on either side of the door didn't stop us from peering inside.

I nudged Peter. "What's going on?" I whispered.

His expression was stern and furious. His fists were clenched so tightly, his knuckles were white. "It's about the king from the neighboring country," he said tightly. "He's been poisoned. And now the prince is declaring war."

My heart skipped a beat. We were just in that country last month, touring and having a fun time. The king was extremely nice and now he was dead. When we were there, I remembered that his son, Prince Nicolai, was trying to pick a fight with Brother. I remember Brother slugged him and shouted, "Don't ever talk about my sister like that again!"

Peter was tall for his age – we both were – and he was stronger than most. Nicolai was over ten years older than us, but he was meek and childish. He hated our country for some reason. I know he thought my dad was a "fake" and he thought his own father was a push-over. But…could Nicolai really have killed his own father just to take the throne?

Why would he want to declare war? Our lands were at peace, unlike the rest of the world. Why would he want to break that?

With tears cornering my eyes, I burst into the room, surprising everyone. "Father!" I cried. "Why? Why would Nicolai do that?" My tears unwillingly spilled over. Images flashed around in my head of war…of bloodshed…of death. War was pointless. Neither of us was well-equipped. There was no telling who would win and who would die.

"Elizabeth…" my mother stood, brow furrowed. My father, on the other hand, was as pale as a ghost. He slouched in his throne, holding his head. War was one thing he was not expecting. We had no allies. We planned to be neutral in case of any war. But a direct attack…He should have seen this coming.

I ran to my mother's arms and buried my face in her stomach. Just then, I felt someone watching me. Barely opening my eyes, I found it was…Zane! He was standing in the corner with his grandfather, watching everything that was going on.

… … …

Later that night, I couldn't sleep. I sat on my window sill, staring out at the moon and the ominous black clouds scattered across the night sky. You could almost hear the march of the soldiers already. All throughout the country, men were being drafted into the military. Father hated to do it, but he needed soldiers.

I always hated the thought of war. It was pointless. Only children fought. But this was self-defense. Father didn't have a choice. I wondered what would become of our tiny country. Would we win? Would we be taken over? Perhaps Prince…err…King Nicolai would enslave all of us. The women here would have no rights. We would be sold.

I shut my eyes tightly and hugged Floppy close, trying to forget the history I read in my text books. Suddenly, the door opened quietly. I spun around, thinking it was Nicolai here to kill me…but instead it was Zane. "You," I said sharply, "what are you doing in my room? You have no permission to be here."

"You could have told me you were the princess, you know," he said, blatantly ignoring me. He made his way over to my bed, scanning everything in the room. "If I would have known, maybe I would have been more respectful when I met you earlier."

I pursed my lips; I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. Turning back to the window, I addressed him stubbornly, "Well, that was the point. You weren't supposed to know that I was the princess because I didn't want you to know."

Zane went quiet. He sat on the sill beside me. In the moonlight, his left eye sparkled. The other half of his face was darkened by shadow. "What are you thinking about this late at night?" he asked out of the blue.

I blinked. "What?"

"Well, I'm just saying, it's awfully late for a princess like you to still be awake. Don't you guys normally turn into swans at night?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Get your stories straight," I said softly. "She turned into a swan in the daytime."

Zane closed his eyes and barely smiled. "Right."

For the next ten minutes, we stayed quiet. Who knows what he was thinking about. But I had to ask him something: "Zane…Do you think we'll win the war?"

He frowned and studied me. "What kind of question is that?" he asked eventually. "I can't say for sure because I can't be biased. The war can go either way."

Tears threatened my brown eyes. "If…if we win," I said shakily, looking down at Floppy, "will you still be here?"

He hesitated. "Maybe…" He wouldn't even look at me.

"Well…Will-will you always be my friend?" I whispered as a tear leaked from my eye.

His eye widened, and then slowly shifted to look at me. "Friend…?" he asked incredulously. I nodded. He gulped. "I…"

I frowned. Did he not know how to react? Did he not think we were friends? After a moment of thought, I held out my hand to him, pinky extended. Maybe he wasn't so good with questions. "Promise me – that you'll always be my friend," I whispered, trying to be strong. "Even if we don't win the war, and I'm not the princess anymore…promise me you won't leave me because I'm not royalty."

I dare not mention if he would still think of me if I died.

To my surprise, Zane's pinky was soon locked around mine. He looked me dead in the eye and said, "I swear."