The Rogue Princess: The King's Hunter (Book 2)

Layra

   The day had come. The streets were flooded with thousands of boys the age of eighteen. Some had their families with them, others did not. Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, and Brothers. Maybe even lovers praying that their love would not be chosen. For a Hunter was not a married man and could never be. He was bound to the King only. To do his bidding and wishes and to protect his people. That is why marriage was forbidden until a young man of eighteen had attended the Choosing of the Hunters. It was required of all men of age and came once a year. Women could attend. They could pray to be a hunter as well, but it never happened. It wasn't against the Hunter's code. It just never happened. I doubted it ever would. I suspected that the whole thing was a hoax set up by my father. I doubted it was really random at all. I guessed that he had scouts look for strong, loyal young men. I didn't believe that the names just came into the Selector's mind and she spoke them. And if what I believed was true, a woman would never be chosen.
    I stood on the left side of my father, seated in his public throne, next to my brother and one of my sisters. I had six siblings total, three other sisters, but they were married to wealthy lords of the country in exchange for the lord's loyalty to the crown. We were sold to the highest bidder. And I was next in line. Due to marry a thirty-eight year old, power hungry lord who had recently inherited a huge amount of land from his lord father. He was said to be ruthless and cunning, forcefull and heartless. And my father could care less. The lord thought I was beautiful and wanted me as his wife. That I thought he was despicable, that they were all despicable, had no value to anyone. No one cared what I thought. Princess or not.

   But I tried to draw my mind away from my soon coming marriage.  I stared at these boys and wondered which five would be granted a freedom I could only dream of. Accents drifted to me from the crowd. Though we were one country, tribes and cities littered our lands, most having their own languages along with the required Arkyrian. I heard snippets of dialects from Rajii, Julan, Jeykuin, Levnaan, Alvian, and Dorbin. I heard some I didn't even recognize. And the accents varied so much you wouldn't think us all from the same country. Some accents rolled and some twisted, and some seemed to speak words a cubitt long. I gave up trying to decipher the different languages and waited for the ceremony to begin. An excitement was inside me, but I was clueless as to why. No one I knew was even in this selection. My only brother was far too young. I knew no one here.
    I snapped to attention as my father called out to the many people. He went into the annual speech that was custom. My attention really peaked when the Selector started to speak. Her voice cracked and she had to strain to be heard. A soldier repeated her words in a shout. But it seemed that the soldiers repetition took away the value. I strained to hear it from the woman herself.  It seemed so important that she be heard.
   " A knowing of minds and hearts, of souls, of goodness, presents to us this day those who are worthy. Worthy to serve in the highest ranks. Worthy of all our gratitude.  The wish to serve and be seen as his worth. Roulen is Presented!" A tall, thin young man with black hair stepped out of the crowd. He walked up to my father's throne. I could see now that he had brown eyes. A look that neared smugness was across his face. He seemed cocky. I didn't like this one.
  "Kneel, Roulen, Chosen one. Do you vow pure loyalty, honesty, and faithfulness to your King?" My father questioned
   "I do, your Highness." Roulen answered in what was definitely a Julan accent. The smugness was still obvious though.
   "Do you pledge to do the bidding of your sovereign? To never falter? To obey, always. And to protect mine life as it was your own?"
    "I do, your Highness"
    "Do you accept the apprenticeship that will form you into one of my deadliest servants?"
     "I do, your Highness."
  "Then rise, my Hunter, and accept your station beside me."
   Roulen stood to his feet and was presented with a dagger. It had an Emerald studded hilt and was made of the finest metals. These daggers were presented only to Hunters. He was presented also with its sheath, which he attached to his waist, and then in one swift motion took his spot beside the King.
   The Selector carried on once again. "Presented to us this day, of pureness and faith, is our Hunter. Roarke is Presented!"
  Another man stumbled out of the crowd. He was a giant. He was muscled and tall. Exactly the type my father would choose, I knew. He had black hair as well, and when he approached, I saw that he too had brown eyes, though his held hints of grey and were much lighter. He looked dazed though. And his eyes held a softness, a kindness you would not expect if you judged by his initial appearance. He looked unsure but happy.
   The same vows were repeated to Roarke as Roulen. And he answered just as loyally, if not more so. And then the Selector spoke again.
   "Those passed over in the sights of others shall not be here. There are those mighty beyond the appearances of flesh. Those true, and those that protect the weak. Fáolan is Presented!"
     From the crowd emerged a shorter boy of thin build. He had blonde hair and sun-kissed skin. He wore clothes of wool and carried a staff. He was undoubtedly a shepherd. When he said his own vowels, his Jeykuin accent was obvious. The way he rolled his vowels was unmistakable.  His voice held a softness, but his eyes held a fire. He could fight. You could feel it in his being. He would protect with every fiber of himself. 
     The fourth Hunter was now to be chosen.
   "Love and loyalty make a Hunter who he is. His goal must be to protect. And to protect is his one desire. Emerson is Presented!"