Breaking the Ice (Book 1)

Chapter Ten

FLARE

"What did you just say?"

"Due to quakes in the mountain, the coronation has been moved to tonight." Mother informed. Sometimes it was impossible not to slowly and painfully melt her face off. "So get dressed."

Great. Flare thought bitterly. Fancy attire.

He went up to his chambers. With a grimace, he put on the slim red waistcoat over his outfit. He examined himself in the mirror. The vest was tighter than he last remembered. Perhaps he had grown more than he realized. As he ripped it off, the waistcoat caught fire, turning into a pile of ash at his feet. "Oops." he smirked.

The guests had filed in, watching in shock as the cousin of the future king, Prince Flare, entered the room. He wore a red satin button down shirt, not completely buttoned. The top portion of his chest was revealed. Could they blame him? They lived in a volcano, so it was awfully hot. He had put on black skinny jeans, which was the new fashion and recently invented by some genius Flare couldn't recall. They were better than the loose dress pants given to him. He used a chain that had been hanging in his curtains to tie to his belt to finish the look.

He knew his parents would be too busy to pay any attention to him or scold him. A few guests gave Flare the look he was used to. Like he was some savage, uncultured swine who did rebellious acts to get attention. He shot each and every one of them a glare that burned with hatred. He hated all of them.

Later, Firework stepped out wearing the legendary golden armor. Myth spoke of the magnificent phoenix Flarik, (whom Flare was named after) as many believed it was the phoenix's rider that had created the armor. Although there was no proof the armor was so special, numerous Heatlings still worship Flarik. Just looking at the future king's attire made Flare claustrophobic. What happened next was a blur to Flare, who barely paid attention as his cousin was crowned.

To escape all the dancing, singing, and celebration, he headed toward the balcony which was surprisingly vacant. He gazed up at the stars, unable to hide his admiration. Each light filled Flare with hope that he'd someday escape and choose his own path. That one day he'd leave the volcano and never look back. He looked down at the market place below, watching traders as they manipulated costs and scammers as they took advantage.

Flare would rather be poor with no money than have it and be greedy for more. That was the problem with Heatlings these days. Back in the days of old, his kind were noble warriors. But now they were no better than the Scorpians as most were consumed by greed.

His eye then landed on a couple in the outskirts of the marketplace. Both wore black cloaks, the shorter one of the two held a large sac over their shoulder. Both carried weapons as they rushed through the alleys of houses. Flare's eyebrows furrowed, curious. Perhaps he could get his wish after all...