The Flame of Wrath (49 page)

             
“Autumn!” Angelos snapped. He favored the priests an apologetic look. Then his eyes returned to his sister, glaring into her for making him look like a fool. “Apologize,” he ordered.

             
“You do not rule here, Angelos,” Autumn said. Her words caused quiet gasps to fill the room. It was the first that anyone had corrected King Angelos' habits of breezing into the province as though it were his own personal looting haven. He often dipped into the kingdom's treasury and used its monies to fund whatever he wished. Whether that thing was for himself or for his own kingdom, he made no distinction. No one had dared to stop him because by birth, he did have claim to his father's estates. Having Lady Autumn home meant that she could put an end to his greed.

             
“You will not make a mockery of our father's beliefs,” the Queen said. “Do that in the kingdom your murders bought you.”

             
Angelos swallowed violently. He darted his eyes to all those nervously taking him in. Before he could act, the priests rose from their seats.

             
“Do not trouble yourself, my Lord,” a priest said gently. “We know of your legendary kindness to the church.” The priest shot a cutting look to Autumn. “Pity that not all the Angels royals share that trait.”

             
The priests fled from the room with Autumn's lancing stare following after them.

             
Angelos stood tersely. He crossed the length of the great room then moved to stand at his sister's side. “I cannot believe your behavior,” he chastised. “Do you have any idea the level of dishonor and shame you have just welcomed into---?”

             
“Do not speak to me of such things,” Autumn argued with burning eyes. “How dare you bring those men here? Have you no shame?”

             
“Autumn,” Angelos growled warningly.

             
“Our ancestors weep for how far we Angels have fallen, but none as tragically as the ones whose name you defile.” Autumn turned her head away from her brother in disgust.

             
Angelos staggered backward as if those words had physically struck him. His eyes darted quickly about the room. The others turned their heads so as not to meet his gaze.

             
Outrage swelled inside him with a bitter life. “I am every bit the King my father was,” he hissed to all those present. “Better!”

             
The dark-haired royal of Black Flame looked upon her kin with sadness rising inside her eyes. How could someone, who had been given so many opportunities still be so poor of heart and soul, she wondered. “Leave, cousin,” Echo whispered. “Before you shame yourself any further.”

             
Angelos' eyes were wild. His fists balled. “I will not be banished from my ancestors' house.”

             
One of the late king's trusted advisors lifted his voice in the unnatural silence which followed. “There is an authority capable of banishing you from these walls, my Lord,” he said. His aged wisdom revealed itself in the warbling tone of his voice. “For you see though it may always seem so in our hearts, it is not your father's house any longer.” His head rose nobly as he relied more heavily upon his cane to straighten his weary back. “This is the hallowed house to Queen Autumn of Angels.”

             
Before Angelos could utter another word, the man continued. “Had you wished to lay claim to Angels, you should have contested succession long ago. Instead, you chose to leave it for others to tend to. Your sister took the mantle with honor on the battlefield.” His eyes narrowed themselves more keenly in the King's direction. “The battlefield to a war you helped to begin.”

             
“Mind your tongue, old man,” Angelos warned the elder.

             
The old man pressed on, ignoring the warning. “It is hers.”

             
Guards began to move into the room in preparation of the King needing to be forcibly removed.

             
Angelos leaned forward. He spoke softly into his sister's ear. “I will leave but only long enough for tempers to cool,” he said. “You and I
will
speak again.”

             
Autumn tightened her fists as her brother left. Her eyes closed, banishing away tears. She listened to the sounds of his boots growing further away until, at last, they were gone.

             
Slowly she released a quaking breath. The Queen opened her eyes to take in all those looking to her expectantly. “I am sorry that all of you had to see such unpleasantness on a night meant for celebration,” she said. Her head was lowered as she stared down at her empty plate.

             
Much to Autumn's surprise the room erupted into loud applause and boisterous cheers. She lifted her head with wide eyes as she stared to their smiling faces.

             
“Forgive us, Majesty,” an elder noblewoman said. Her face and eyes were smiling brightly. “We rejoice only because for too long the brotherhood of Virtue have moved about this land as if they had some right to it and King Angelos---” She cleared her throat. “Well he has just not conducted himself as one of our clan.” She balled her fist and shook it with a continuing smile. “It was good to see them get what was coming to them.”

             
The noblewoman blushed darkly surprised by her own words. Together, she and Autumn laughed, feeling the tensions of the room shatter.

             
Autumn fondly gazed about the room as together they all sat down to dinner. As the meal was served, something inside of her left this moment. It ventured beyond the crystalline windows to the outside world she yearned to inhabit. It would not be long before she knew she would have to break away from the others to find her solace within the Nature that she loved.

********

              When the hellish sounds of war thrive around you, all one wishes for is the sweet sound of peaceful silence. At least, that was what Autumn had yearned for most. It had come to be her greatest fantasy that she would shed the armor of her warring life and lay peacefully along the lake's edge with her family's castle in the foreground as she had through much of her life.

             
With the moon high in the sky and the stars peeking through the migrating clouds, she saw that fantasy made real.

             
Autumn removed her forest-green cloak from her body. She ignored the beads of water clinging to the blades of grass. They only served to further remind her that she was in fact home among her kin. In every direction she gazed, a familiar sight brought her contentment because they were the milestones to her memories.

             
A pale yellow chiffon embraced her body tenderly. It showcased the statuesque length of her athletic build. She lowered soundlessly to the ground. Her ears perked, listening to the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. With a feline stretch, she uncoiled. Her gracious form was cradled by a soft pillow of lush green which carpeted the land. She rested her weary head against the elegant expanse of her arm.

             
It was then that for the first time in a very long time, sleep came to her almost instantly.

             
Autumn might have been a lovely yellow flower among the whispering green were it not for the frown slowly beginning to transform her expression. She exhaled deeply while lost in dreamless sleep.

             
Against the silence creeping over the night, a small cough left her lips. It sent a wisp of cloud beyond her mouth. The airy breath lingered near her lips. Then it beckoned another to follow it into the night.

********

              Ethereal music flooded the cathedral. The practicing choir lifted their voices to the night as a true testament to the spirit alive within them. Their soulful voices resounded loudly throughout the grand building. Their melodies echoed off the arched ceilings, tickling the polished wood while kissing the stained glass. Still, it was the warm intimacy provided by the candlelight which inspired the hushed tones to leave everyone within this place of worship.

             
As a faith, the followers of Virtue had not existed long though by their traditions and even the seeming timelessness of this cathedral one would have easily thought otherwise.

             
The man garbed in airy white robes was a perfect example of a sight which might have always been there. He was the solemn spirit to haunt these walls while others slept. His pale white hair gathered at the base of his proud head, tied neatly to end just beneath his neck. About his neck hung a glistening gold necklace. It bore the sign which was the founding principle to their religion. It was the light, their sacred flame.

             
His hand reached to light another candle when a loud noise disturbed his tranquility.

             
The doors burst open mightily. A young man of the order came rushing toward him. His black hair was wild from the winds his haste had created. The dark pools of his brown eyes were panicked. “Bishop,” he cried. “I'm so glad that you have returned. I was fearful you were still attending dinner with King Angelos.”

             
The bishop shook his head with a sigh. “No, Queen Autumn seems to carry the torch of hatred for Virtue her father had,” he grumped.

             
The young priest did not seem to hear his words. “You must come.” He panted breathlessly. “There is talk.” Violently, he shook as his mind raced. “So much talk.”

             
The bishop extinguished the flame within his hand only after having tended to the candle. He sighed softly. Then with a patient smile, he said, “You must slow down. Now please, tell me. What is it that has you so upset?”

             
“A miracle!”

             
The young priest paused as his eyes took in their surroundings. “No,” he corrected himself. “It would have been a miracle. Now... now it is a----” Again, he paused. He thought carefully before speaking again a moment later. “A 'problem' of the greatest sense.”

             
Still not understanding, the bishop frowned.

             
“Another child has been chosen.”

             
The color drained from the bishop's face.

             
“A Dragon Child is to be born. The successor is coming.”

             
The bishop heard the loud gasps of those few quietly praying within the pews. He whirled around, having forgotten that they were there. “Get out,” he commanded. “Go!”

             
He forcibly ushered them out before slamming down the large wooden plank to seal the doors. With a trembling breath, he walked toward the dark-haired priest. “Do you realize what will happen when news of this reaches the Empress?” he asked. “The old ways are gone. This child would reawaken lost hopes.” He crossed his arms over his body tightly.

             
The words next to leave his lips were not directed to the priest. That much was made clear by their muttered quiet. “The Knights would come. They would punish our entire province for being the home to---” He gasped. “An abomination. The Empress never punishes one. She punishes the many. We would all suffer for this.”

             
“What can we do?” the priest whispered.

             
Suddenly hazel eyes met dark brown.

             
The priest shrank away from what he saw inside their depths. He shook his head slowly in horrified realization. He looked down to the thick book within his hand. Inside the book, it preached of love and acceptance. It was then that he felt the sickening rise of hypocrisy churning within his stomach.

********

              On a night in which his heart should have known only joy, he found himself aching with loneliness. Angelos rode along the countryside, listening to the sound of his horse's slow gallop. He remembered the image of the files returning home for what they had been told was a reprieve. The truth was, they would never be restored enough to fight as they were expected to. That knowledge disgusted him. He slumped forward a bit, relying upon the saddle horn to steady him.

             
His sister had been at the front. He shook his head. That wasn't true. She was not merely at the front. She had been leading it in their father's stead. A sickening feeling filled him as he remembered receiving the news that his father was dead. He might have gone to the front to take his place as King. After all, he was the first born. The throne was his by birthright, but he didn't need his father's kingdom. Aurea had given him one of his own along with all her Knights. Knights Reign was more than he could have ever dreamed.

             
He winced, demanding honesty of himself. Having his own kingdom had nothing to do with the reason he had not come to the front. He had chosen not to come because he had left the true battle for others to shoulder.