Kingdom of Ash and Flame

chapter one

I let out a cry of wary passion as my blade connects with the target. I push my silver hair from my face and turn, "Beat that." I huff at Handrell. He picks up a blade and tosses it as if showing off, testing me. I raise my eyebrows. I watch his chest rise and fall as he throws the blade and it tops my throw with the ping of steel and wood. My blade hits the bulls eye only to sink in an inch. Handrell's, however cuts through the hay round. I looked up to the sky, which was painted a shade of pale red, signaling nightfall. "We should head back." I blurt. "Sure." Handrell adds. I go and ruffle his chocolate brown hair and I smile as his cheeks flush the color of cherry wine. "Come on soldier boy." I tease. We begin the two mile walk back to the haven. The haven sits on the edge of the white castle. I have lived their with the other soldiers since I was thirteen, since I applied for the position. I was never fond of the mad king and how he spent the profit of his people only on luxuries and land, but when my father died in the war against magic, I left to follow in his footsteps. I never had known why he fought against a practice he didn't despise. A practice in fact his ancestors practiced. He said he had no choice, but really he was only afraid of the mad king. The mad king killed the 'gifted' rulers first, the rulers of kingdoms not far from our own. He killed them only because they possessed power. Then he killed the common folk who only did as much as practice the lifestyles of the 'gifted'. That war tore our whole family apart, in fact it tore apart are kingdom of Igneous too. The people living in fear of the mad king.  We left the cover of the trees and the magnificence of the white marble castle seeped into view.  I can still remember seeing my father's body torn apart. His blood staining the white steps.

Handrell and I enter the three story fifteen bedroom hut and drop our gear by the door. A delicious scent of seasoned chicken fills my nose and I sigh. I walk into the kitchen where Mica and Deravan are wrestling over the last drop of brandy and I smile. A small hand caresses my lean shoulder and I turn meeting the the eyes of Akal, my best friend. Her eyes shine the color of sea grass and her cheeks are tinted pink. We each grab a plate of roast chicken and vegetables and head to our shared bedroom. We sit on the rug between our cots and eat. "You seemed cheery when returned." Akal says with a boisterous glare. I catch on and snap back. "Nonsense, Handrell and I are only friends." I press. Akal rolls her green eyes and I snicker.  "Akal, Freya! Get your asses down here!" I hear the familiar voice of Gideon and with questioning glances we make our way downstairs. I notice how Mica, Handrell, Deravan, Melisandre, and Gideon are lined by the door, there backs straight. Akal and I stand with them and questions race through my mind. Then I see him,  Xanthus, the crown prince standing in the card room. His inky black hair ruffled and his gray eyes relaxed. What in the name was he doing here at the house of the high guards? For Xanthus rarely ever left his tall fortress.  Akal and I dip into curtsies then shifting to our natural positions. "Soldiers." Xanthus speaks, his voice smooth and regal. "There is an unexpected royal visitor from the kingdom of Metamor, who has arrived just under three hours ago. We are having a feast to welcome her and we need extra security, the king has asked me to assign you to be that security. However, you may need to wash up, you all smell like that of a drunken hobo." I snicker, so he has a delightful sense of humor too. "Of course." I say, my voice high and even. His icy gaze lands on me but he quickly tears it away. "Be in the grand hall in twenty minutes ." Xanthus says as he shuts the hut's rickety door behind him. "You heard the prince, onto it." Melisandre says as she turns for the stairs, her hazel hair a blur as she darts. I quickly bathe, scrubbing every inch of my body in ivory soap, not remembering the last time I formally bathed. I dress in the chosen uniform, a jacket of purple silk with the house crest woven onto each lapel and a pair of gray pants. I tie my hair in a bun and race to the door boots in hand. I bend to lace them up. "Angels in hell!" I shout, noticing the scuffs on the leather. "That filthy pig could have given us a warning earlier!" I wine to Akal as she joins me by the door. " If the king sees, that's a definite lash on the back." Akal searches my eyes and senses my worry. "Keep your head high he won't notice."

The castle is even more grotesque on the inside. All I can see is gold, gold, gold. I swallow hard, pushing my bile back down my throat. I can tell my friends are angered by all of it too. The great hall is bolstering with servants. Then all at once everyone goes dead silent, not a tray tinkering as Xanthus walks down the grand steps dressed in his finery, towards us. He stands tall like a god, his lean figure full of elegance. He could have been no older than my age, seventeen. He stops exactly three feet before us. "Exactly on time." He says, offering a smile. "As requested your grace." Mikal's buttery voice chimes out. "You seven, " Xanthus says to everyone but me. "Will be in the dinning hall patrolling, you, err.." "Freya." I spit. "Right Freya, you will be Her Majesty Pomeline's personal guard for the rest of the night. I hope you all are armed and ready." Xanthus says folding his hands together. I watch the rest of my fellow soldiers leave and I look towards Xanthus. "Fourth floor, two doors down to the left." Xanthus says as his eyes study me. I fold my arms over my small chest as I depart wanting those disgusting eyes off me. I reach the fourth and to my great surprise, more gold and jewels.  I want to gag from the sight of it all. I grew up with a family where my mother and father worked there asses off for our food only to have most of money taxed leaving us starving. We always wondered where the money went, well all of it wasted. I reach Pomeline's door and knock. I study the intricate engravings as I wait for a reply. "Who is it." I hear a heavy accented female voice seep through the door. I am so taken aback I do not reply right away. I have never heard a Metamorphian accent before. It sounds like that of a seductive snake, her words rolling off her tongue. "Umm, it is your guard." I say my words uneven. "Come in then." Pomeline says accent in all. I enter and immediate regret it because Pomeline is stark naked her curvy figure being rubbed in oils by two maids. "What is it child, haven't seen a naked body before.  Close the door, I do not want an audience. I close the door  and turn slowly, Pomeline bends down to roll on lacy stockings and I cannot help but notice the strange inky marking that sits on her inner thigh. I look twice, three times and my heart leaps into my throat, the mark on her thigh is the mark of the gifted.