Breaking the Ice (Book 1)

Chapter Eight

FLARE

"What's your problem?!" Blake hissed as the crimson haired Heatling shoved him.

"What's yours?" He cracked his knuckles, ready to fight.

"You wanna go?" Blake stood up.

"Gladly." the other Heatling grinned.

"Flare, please!" Blaze pleaded, the twin sister of Blake. "Don't hurt him!"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that..." Flare grinned wider, fire coming out of his nostrils as he charged...

"A fifteen year old shouldn't go around acting like an immature six year old!" Flare's mother scolded. He rolled his eyes as he slouched more in his seat.

"Are you done lecturing me yet, you old hag?" he asked.

"Flare, please," she began, ignoring his disrespect. "Your cousin's coronation is tomorrow. Just...try not to get in trouble again for just two days."

That sounded impossible to Flare, trouble was something he exhaled on a daily basis. He didn't care what she said, she wasn't the boss of him. She couldn't see him roll his eyes again behind his long red bangs. Father kept scolding him to cut it, but it wasn't even that long. My burning red iris stared into his mother's brown ones. He had an eyepatch to cover his hideous other eye.

"I don't even know why I bother." she sighed as she shooed Flare away.

"FINALLY!" he barked as he walked down the large halls of the palace. He frowned deeper than an Icee, not even the golden walls of the castle would make him smile. He didn't care about riches, he didn't care about appearances. All he wanted was to be left alone and perhaps punch someone in the face. He traced his fingers over the bruise he received from Blake, then smirked. Each injury, each scar was like a souvenir to him. And he had all but another to add to his collection.

Each cut told a story, each burn was a memory. One that could never be wiped away, no matter how hard his parents try to cover it up, to cover him up. And because, what? Because he was being himself and that embarrassed them?

"Got in trouble again?" a familiar voice asked, coming from around the corner. The red hair with yellow streaks gave away that it was his older cousin, Firework, the soon-to-be king.

"What do you want?" Flare hissed, giving him the full force of his glare.

"Oops, you're in a bad mood." he frowned. "But I'm gonna be king tomorrow! How sweet is that?" Flare rolled his eyes...again.

"Please, could you just be happy for me?" he asked.

"Congrats. May you be an intelligent king, may your rule last long." Flare carelessly waved his hand around, brushing past him.

"Could you not be grumpy for once? It's a special day!" Firework smiled.