The Flame of Wrath (6 page)

             
“Presenting the Province of Angels,” the announcer boomed.

             
Maven respectfully moved to the stairs near Aurea's feet. She smiled knowingly as three members of the Angels family stepped forward.

             
Angelos III shared the grand height of his children. It was true that from this proud tree blessed fruit fell. The waves of his hair had long since lost their rich brown. Now they were the occasional branch of strong brown weighted by the dense frost of ivory snow. His eyes were the essence of a winter sky. They were cool, enough to bring a flush to the cheeks, but did not fail to send a certain rejuvenating rush throughout the limbs.

             
As Angelos III stood holding a golden helmet beneath his strong arm, the light warmed the golden armor upon his broad chest. The proud wings at his back made him otherworldly. His long legs rooted him in his stance, touched only by the ivory tunic ending slightly above his knees and the golden sandals upon his feet. He bowed in time with his two children. That simple movement created by their small family sent the light dancing on the radiance of their gold and white.

             
“For you, my Liege,” he spoke. His voice might have inspired a people to follow him into battle. Its strength easily inspired unquestioning faith and a willingness to follow within others. And though he might have made a great king, if asked he would attest to knowing no greater ambition than serving both his sovereign and his children. “I bring the greatest transports in all the Pyrosian kingdom.”

             
As the nobles looked between themselves, they knew that it was no mere boast. The entire kingdom knew that within the Province of Angels, their clan possessed the gift of flight to shame the land.

             
Aurea rose from her throne. Once Autumn had held her attention at the windows, but now she could see through their glorious perfection to the gardens. She smiled with a slight gasp at the four elegant owls being guided to stand within her sight.

             
The white owls proudly turned to exhibit their power and beauty. Their every movement attested to the fact that nobility was bred into these gargantuan creatures.

             
The young ruler turned and gave a favorable expression. “They are truly exquisite,” Aurea praised.

             
Her attention was called away from the general whose chest puffed with pride to the young man at his side.

             
Long shining waves of dark hair tied him to the legacy of his father or the beauty of his sister. Angelos IV was a tall man, but nothing in either his presence or his physique commanded the respect his father garnished from all those around him. He stood quite literally in the shadow of his father. That fact had set him off on the path of pursuing his ambitions at all costs. He had risen in ranks with a zealous swiftness, but it had not been for his skill with a sword so much as it had been his ability to manipulate a situation.

             
In every way, he had valiantly attempted to emulate his father. His armor mirrored his perfectly. The gold covering his chest balanced the majestic wings at his back. His broad face exuded grace but also a desperation to prove himself.

             
“My Queen, I have brought for you diamonds mined from our mountains.” Angelos IV inwardly beamed. He had personally selected each diamond to be placed before the Queen. He knew without question that they were worthy of a grand ruler. “Their beauty is beyond compare.”

             
Soon another voice came to softly claim the Dragon Queen. “I have also brought a gift for you, my Queen,” she heard.

             
Aurea turned her head in its direction. The woman she came face to face with caused her abdomen to clench in an attempt to restrain all breath.

             
The youngest member of the Angels nobility moved with a quiet air. She turned toward the servant who silently brought a bundle forward. With a smile on her lips, she gently untied the twine sealing her gift away from the world. As she unwrapped her gift, the servant patiently held her burden. When at last her gift was unveiled, it sat as a large pillow the very essence of lavender mists.

             
Maven arched her brow in silent query.

             
Across the sovereign's face, Aurea's confusion spread. She ignored Angelos IV who rolled his eyes at his little sister's gift. Instead she drew closer to the angel in white. Her fingertips ran lovingly over the soft surface of the pillow.

             
“Its cover is made of our finest silk,” Autumn informed the queen. Her voice was a soothing whisper found in dreams. “Beyond silk and diamonds, our home is also known to be the only place in all of Pyros in which the Djidjiga bloom grows.”

             
Autumn removed a breathtaking white flower from a white leather pouch at her hip. Its magnificence glowed as brightly as a tiny star within her delicate hand. The scent it cast was a sought after perfume and one that demonstrated wealth if it was in one’s possession. She offered it to Aurea, tenderly placing it within her hand.

             
“Do you know the story of Djidjiga, Highness?” Autumn's hands cupped Aurea's hand with all the softness of the cradled flower.

             
Aurea shook her head with all the slow wonder of a spellbound child. “No,” she said, “tell me.”

             
“Before our people knew peace, there was once a time of great sadness and war. People prayed for stronger weapons. They prayed for a means of defeating their enemy, but one small girl prayed for an understanding to fill those warring souls, for peace to touch their hearts. It was all she prayed for... this peace.”

             
Autumn gazed into blue eyes unlike any she had ever seen. As she watched the flickering flames of Aurea's pupils, she felt the same hypnotic allure one finds while gazing into a fireplace. “The Dragon was so moved by this solitary prayer that She swooped down from the heavens to spirit the child away to peace, but the little girl refused.”

             
Aurea focused the flames of her eyes upon the flower in her hand. She stared at it with a flash of the dream racing across her mind. This was her flower. This was the scent which brought about such rhapsody within her. As her mind traveled away from the dream, returning instead to the present, she frowned curiously. Why would the little girl refuse, she wondered.

             
As if to answer the question, she saw so clearly inside Aurea’s eyes, Autumn spoke again. “She refused to know peace if her people could not as well.” She paused while allowing her words to resonate throughout the room, but more importantly within her Queen.

             
“With a begrudging sadness, the Dragon respected her wishes. The next day during a battle, a fire spread across many villages and Djidjiga was killed.”

             
The gathering of hushed nobles gasped. Autumn did not see or hear them. She stared only to Aurea, whom she found was a captive audience.

             
“Taking pity upon the good-hearted child, the Dragon ensured that wherever Djidjiga's ashes touched, the most beautiful flower in all of creation would grow.”

             
“The Djidjiga bloom,” Aurea gathered in a dreamy whisper.

             
Autumn nodded. She smiled as she hoped that maybe, just maybe Aurea understood the true nature of the tale.

             
“The bloom has many properties,” Autumn explained. “Its petals can be used as a tea to heal certain ailments. Its perfume can also be used for aromatherapy to induce peaceful sleep and dreams.”

             
“So even after all this time,” Aurea voiced in understanding, “Djidjiga is able to grant her people the peace she always wanted.”

             
The storm of blue-gray eyes died away. Their skies cleared to a gentle blue. “Yes,” she breathed. “Exactly.”

             
The onlooking nobles all cooed over the tragic beauty of the tale, but inwardly two fumed. Angelos IV ----though he greatly loved his sister---- could not help but see this as yet another act in which Autumn had triumphed where he had only existed. One look to his father, who watched over Autumn with love and pride softening his face, assured him of this fact while Maven resented the silent exchange she knew to be happening between Autumn and Aurea. She comforted herself by remembering to be patient as she had been patient her entire life only to be rewarded by finally finding herself within the palace.

             
Autumn allowed her fingertips to grant a lingering touch to Aurea's hands before drawing her hands away. She retrieved the pillow from her servant's hands. She lowered into a respectful kneel. In her hands, she held out her offering, the offering she had agonized over, the offering she had hoped would be appreciated despite its humble existence in comparison to the elaborate nature of so many others. “For you, my Queen.” Both her voice and her eyes revealed the vulnerability which had sent her soul quaking. In this moment, she was Djidjiga praying to the Dragon. “I pray for peace.”

             
The young Queen could not speak. She stared to Autumn in disbelief. She ached to tell her to rise, to never kneel to her because such a thing was not as Nature had intended. No one as beautiful as Autumn should ever kneel to anyone less than a God. Still, she found herself unable to act.

             
The stillness of the moment rose as the beginnings of awkward tension. Finally, awakened by the choking silence, Aurea blinked rapidly. She shook herself from her fog then graciously took the pillow into her arms, unaware of how that human act had granted a fearful Autumn permission to breathe once again. She held it close as she stared into the young woman whom she guessed to be no more than three years her senior. She was grateful that the majority of her face was concealed behind her mask because in that moment her emotions were all too clearly written upon her face.

             
“Thank you,” Aurea spoke at last. Her voice was a throaty rasp. “Thank you... Lady Autumn.”

             
Autumn flushed darkly. Slowly she rose to her feet. As she slipped her arm into her father's and her family gracefully dipped their heads in a final bow, her heart raced with the realization that Aurea Queen of Pyros knew her name.

*******

When other nobles reveled in their fineries, Autumn appeared to be humbled by their weight. Her wealth was plainly visible as the ornament running the length of her back. The luxurious wings made from Djidjiga petals had easily cost a small fortune, but to Autumn, their cost could never amount to the worth of Djidjiga’s story itself. The dreamy legends she loved were alive inside her eyes. She wished with all her might to be at ease within her fineries the way that her brother reveled in his, but it was simply not her way. She longed to be within a soft linen chiton, her feet bare as she raced through the cool sweet grasses of her home. She desired nothing more than to stare up at a star-filled sky. Those were the diamonds she yearned to be in awe of and not the jewels obscenely coveting attention. As she sat among the throngs of people, she realized that this was her brother's arena not hers.

Sensing her disquiet, her father's hand came to lie supportively atop her forearm. Autumn graced the General with a tender smile. Her love shined brightly inside her eyes. She leaned close to gently bestow a kiss to his cheek.

              He was so like her. He was a simple man of simple pleasures. She knew that he was more at home on the battlefield than while lost amidst political joisting.

             
“You seem to have made quite the impression,” Angelos III said. He spoke quietly into his daughter's ear, attempting to remain discreet.

             
Autumn frowned with uncertainty. She was about to ask what her father was referring to when from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone looking in her direction.

             
Aurea stared through the portals of her mask to the woman in white. She sighed heavily.

             
To Autumn's side, three druids sat. They called her attention, engaging the young woman in conversation.

             
The Queen turned her head in the direction of the siblings now addressing her at her right. She could not think of Autumn. She could not allow herself to ache for something so beyond her capabilities. What did she know of love or the feelings which accompanied it? It was clear that Autumn understood them. She conveyed them in her every expression.

             
This life, this world of customs and politics, of status and power, these things made sense to Aurea. She understood these matters. Ambitions were not so far from her mental grasp, but to gaze into the eyes of another and yearn for understanding threatened to disrupt all she knew. 

             
Leave me
, she commanded her thoughts of Autumn. As they begrudgingly fell back into the dark recesses of her mind, she was allowed to return to the conversation at hand.