In the House of Flames

ARABELLA'S RED HAIR SHONE LIKE A LIVING FLAME, DANCING AND WEAVING THROUGH THE AIR WITH EVERY SMALL MOVEMENT. Nova stared, completely mesmerized by the red color in the dim firelight. With any small gesture, the fiery dance began again, and her attention was recaptured.

After several moments of blatant staring, Arabella noticed. She started in surprise before cocking her head sideways, like a cat, to study the Queenling. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, a hint of humor lining her voice.

Nova looked away embarrassedly, her hair falling down her shoulder to block her face from her friend. "Sorry," was the only word that she could choke out.

Even though she was now looking the other way with a curtain of dark hair separating them, Arabella's face still burned behind Nova's closed eyelids. The vibrant green of her eyes, the shape of her lips, the sharpness of her cheekbone, the carless tumble of hair. And if her eyes trailed lower than that...

Nova forced all thoughts of the girl from her mind. Arabella was loyal and fierce and kind, but she would never agree to become her lover. Because that was not Arabella. Besides, she deserved someone better. A man that was strong and kind and not doomed to die within the year.

And, if Nova somehow won the Queentide and became Queen, she would never be allowed to marry Arabella. The Kingdom followed ancient laws that only recognized the union of a man and a woman. If Arabella impossibly did return Nova's feelings, she would be forced to live in the shadows the rest of her life, visiting Nova only in the dark of night.

Arabella was a Flame; she did not belong in the shadows.

No, Nova could never force her friend to do that just because of her own selfish feelings. Because Arabella would agree to do it, to show her loyalty to her Queen. She would agree to anything that Nova told her to do. She may hate it, but she would agree to make Nova happy. That thought filled the Queenling with a strong surge of self-revulsion.

"You need sleep," said Arabella, her voice yanking Nova from her thoughts. "The Queentide begins tomorrow, and you cannot be caught unawares."

"I'm fine," Nova responded crossly while readjusting the sword that hung by her side. Though she was wearing a simple dress, Nova insisted on wearing her sword along with it. Luckily, she had the best craftsman in the House of Flames fashion her a leather belt made for holding weapons, and she wore it along with any dress.

Arabella eyed her warily, her green gaze filled with doubt and skepticism. "Nova, you don't have to be afraid-"

"I'm not afraid!" Sparks flew from Nova's hands as the words flung themselves from her lips. She took in a deep, ragged breath, in hopes that it would calm her down. "I'm not afraid," she repeated, her voice more even.

A pause followed.

"Fine. You're not afraid. Do you want me to get you anything?" Arabella tried again. "Are you hungry?"

Irritation twisted inside Nova's gut. The only thing that she wanted was a way out of the Queentide, a way out of the year that would follow. A year filled with uneasiness and murder and blood.

But she said nothing. Soon, her window to respond shriveled away into a closed space, and a deadly lack of noise filled the tense air. The thick silence was penetrated only by the flames crackling in the fire place, and the embers dully glowed. Nova could feel Arabella's eyes on her, but she did not dare return the look in fear of what she might find staring back at her.

"You don't have to be afraid, Nova, because you won't die. You aren't going to die. I won't let that happen to you," said Arabella softly.

"It won't be in your control, Bella."

To her own surprise, Nova's voice was calm. There was no hint of the fear that was pounding in her chest, flowing through her veins.

"Yes, it is." Arabella's own voice was breathy. "I protect you, remember?"

And she did. When Nova was five years old, she had arrived to the House of Flames for the first time. She was alone and frightened, and a dark, bloody future had hung over her head like a dark raincloud. Few dared to befriend or even talk to her; rather, they gave her a large house a respectful distance away from the village homes, and stayed away.

Until Khapera had knocked on Nova's door a few weeks later, a small girl in tow. Khapera, the unofficial leader of the Flames, had introduced Nova to the small red-haired girl standing proudly on the other side of the threshold.

"Her name is Arabella, and she is to protect you," Khapera had said. It was a statement firm as stone, and just as unbreakable.

Nova's nose wrinkled. "Protection? From what?"

"Everything," Arabella interrupted, her green eyes shining with pride. "That's why I've been trained."

Sure enough, the small girl had a dagger strapped to her arm, and another hanging from her hip. Arabella's arms were crossed, and she stood with her legs slightly apart. Even at such a young age, Nova knew that was a fighting stance.

They had grown up together, spending every possible second in each other's company. Arabella trained Nova until her own skill rivaled her teacher's. They were friends in the closest way: friends brought together because of the need to survive.

Arabella was the only child that Nova had grown up with after leaving her sisters. And somehow, that was enough. It was enough to run with Arabella through the Market, to shop with her at the Store, to attend lessons on etiquette and history with her. Somehow, the girl became more than Nova's protector; Arabella became Nova's everything.

It had never been something dangerous, something to fear until both girls grew older. Until Nova saw Arabella as the same fiercely protective child as well as a dauntingly beautiful woman.

And now, all those years of training and running and hoping were gone. They would be buried beneath this single year of killing and hiding and betraying.

"I don't need your protection anymore. The Queentide is made for me to be helpless," Nova said. "You won't be allowed, or able, to help me."

It was a challenge, in a sense. A challenge to see what Arabella would say. A challenge to see how far the girl would go to protect her Queen. Nova watched her friend with hidden curiosity and uncertainty.

Without warning, Arabella crossed the room to stand in front of Nova. Her green eyes blazed with the familiar pride. Without losing eye contact, she fell onto her knees, and clasped Nova's hands into her own.

"I will never stop protecting you, Nova," Arabella breathed, her warm hands igniting something inside the Queenling. "I am yours."

Sparks fell from Nova's skin, and Arabella watched them with a faint smile. The girl on her knees slowly brought the Queenling's hands to her lips.

"I will protect you."

Nova could feel the shape of the words on the back of her hands. The irrevocable sense of doom abandoned Nova, and was replaced by another feeling, one that was foreign.

"I will die tomorrow," said the Queenling, not believing the words as she spoke them.

"No, you will not."

"I could die tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. The Queentide will not spare me. I would rather die than give you a hope that will never be fulfilled."

"You won't," smiled Arabella, pulling her face away from Nova's hands. She looked up at her Queen with a grin that reeked of mischief and desire and victory.

"I don't want to hurt you," Nova said, her words so soft that they came out as a whisper. "I don't want to leave you."

"You won't."

Nova slowly wrapped her hands around Arabella's neck. With one motion, she could snap it. But she never would, not to Arabella. She pulled upwards, bringing the girl to stand.

Without hesitation, without fear shining in her golden eyes, Nova pressed her lips against those of her best friend, her first love, her protector. Her Arabella.

Years of shame and hiding evaporated, and disappeared without a trace. Years of averted glances and blushing cheeks and sinful hopes were gone.

Arabella returned the kiss with a feverish determination. She dug her fingernails into Nova's back, causing a soft moan to escape the Queenling's lips.

"I am yours," Arabella said against Nova's lips, "Until our end."

"Until the end."

And at that moment, the end was a distant, foreign thing. In that moment, the one surrounding two desperate girls that were intertwined, everything was right.

There was no Queentide. There were no blood-listing sisters. There were no worries or fears. There was no end.