BURN

1: Letters

PART 1: FIRE

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-- Robert Frost

---

Agatha is shaken from her uneasy half-sleep before the sun has even risen.

"Agatha, sweetheart." Callis leans over her, hand pressed lightly into her hair. "Time to get up."

"It's still dark." says Agatha peevishly.

"The Queen wants to set off early. For... security reasons."

"Security." Agatha sneers, kicking the covers away and sitting up. "Who's going to be taking potshots at us as we leave? They'll be dancing in the streets."

Callis doesn't comment on Agatha's grumblings, as usual. Agatha carries on despite the lack of response.

"Besides, it's not as if her stupid carriages aren't armed to the teeth with enchantments and glass so thick you could knock yourself out on it-- what?"

For Callis is frowning.

"We're not going by carriage." she says.

"Huh?"

"We're going by sea."

"Sea? We're taking the ships?"

"She claims it's faster."

"Faster? We'll have to sail around the Gulf of Gillikin!" Agatha hurls herself out of bed, furious. "You know full well why she chose the ships!"

"There are several reasons she could have done." says Callis, retrieving Agatha's gloves from the floor.

"Don't be cagey with me." snaps Agatha. Callis turns to look at her and Agatha flushes.

"Sorry. Stressed."

"I gathered." Callis holds out the gloves. Agatha carefully takes them from her and pulls them on, trying to avoid touching Callis where she can. Callis turns to rifle through Agatha's wardrobe.

"Nothing fancy?" Agatha asks hopefully. She can't see any new dresses. Callis shakes her head.

"Your mother has arranged for you to be dressed to meet the King when we arrive."

"Oh." says Agatha flatly. "Great."

"Speaking of, I saw the Queen this morning, and she gave this letter to me, to give to you." Callis pulls a thick, heavy envelope from her pocket. "Come here, I'll do your dress laces and you can read it."

Agatha frowns, taking the letter and weighing it in her hand. It's fine quality parchment, heavy and smooth, addressed to her in a sweeping hand.

"Who's it from?"

"Not sure."

Agatha turns the letter over, sees the crest stamped into the wax, and groans.

"I think you're supposed to be more excited when you get a letter from your future husband, you know." says Callis. "Step here."