in the kingdom

NOVA WAS FULLY AWARE THAT ARABELLA KEPT A VERY CLOSE DISTANCE AS SHE CAREFULLY APPROACHED THE TEMPLE. Arabella stayed closed, maybe closer than she ever had before. Nova forced herself not to look at her beautiful friend, but when she fell succumb to the temptation, she found a pair of blazing green eyes staring back, coated with a powerful possessiveness. And it stirred something deep inside Nova.

But she ignored it. Of course she did; she had to. Because this was the start of the Queentide, and everything was more dangerous than before. Relationships of any form were a liability, and Nova couldn't afford any liabilities.

She was a Queen, forged from the heart of flame. And she would burn the world down, and everyone in it.

"Be careful," Arabella murmured in her ear, her sword gleaming in the morning Sun. Her sword was just like the girl; dangerous yet beautiful.

"You don't have to warn me," Nova said, almost coldly. She wanted nothing more than to pull Arabella into one of the many alleys that dotted the trail to the Temple and kiss her until she forgot her own name, but that, like so many other things, was not suitable.

"I'm sorry my care offends you, my Queen," Arabella responded in a tone that matched the chill of Nova's.

The way Nova saw it, last night never happened. It shouldn't have happened. It was the best night of her life, the only thing she had ever pined after, ever wanted. Even more than being the Queen, Nova wanted Arabella.

It would be all too easy for Nova to forgot all the rules of etiquette that she had studied, all the histories of the past Queens and Queentides. But never in a thousand years would she be able to forget the feeling of Arabella's lips against her own, or the soft yet fierce look Arabella had in her eyes as Nova let herself fall onto her knees before the woman who was her everything.

For once, Nova was glad that Arabella was behind her; she was unable to see the blush climbing up her throat.

In the distance, a large flock of birds flew towards the Temple, their cries echoing even to where she and Arabella walked. Nova frowned; it seemed as if Nova wasn't the only Queenling that planned on showing off.

The dress that Nova wore spoke louder than any words that she could have said. The dress was made of a dark material, darker than black and softer than silk. Flecks of metal dotted the dress like stars against the night sky. But, better than that, the dress was made of Flamesilk, an expensive material that was meticulously sewn by seamstresses in the House of Flames. The seamstresses called themselves the Weavers, and they were a very dangerous group, ranging from anywhere between eight or eighty years old. Their projects were expensive, and the Weavers didn't sew for just anyone; it was only Nova's status as Queenling that got her this dress in the first place. But, as much as she disliked the haughty Weavers, she had to admit that they were exceptionally talented.

She wanted to give Arabella a Weaver-made dress, wanted to see the way that the black silk would cling to her curvy body like a caressing shadow. Nova wanted to turn around and take her back to their room, and show her every thought that has raced through her head for the past decade.

But that was the life of a Queen: always sacrificing personal desires.

With a heavy sigh, Nova trudged forwards, the small crowd of everyday people parting at the sight of her. Nova ignored them, donning the mask of the distant Queen that they all expected. Selena the gentle, Cressida the wild, Callisto the cold, and Nova the murderess. Those were the names whispered across the streets as Nova walked past.

But, in that same light, the Queentide should be the easiest for Nova; she has already killed one Queen.

"Is your plan to just light yourself on fire and call yourself a Queen?" Arabella hissed in her ear, her words coated with caring instead of malice.

"My plan is to show them all what I am capable of," Nova smoothly responded, watching as Cressida walked up the Temple steps, a pack of wolves trailing behind her. "And I want you to keep an eye on Callisto, and that delicate girl she brought with her. Find out what's going on between them."

Arabella snorted softly. "I'm your errand girl now?"

The words cut across her heart like a dagger. There weren't words for how she felt about Arabella, no words for the inexplicable soaring her heart felt whenever Arabella smiled at her.

"No," Nova said, her voice devastatingly soft. "You are my everything, Arabella."

And with that, Nova strode forwards with the confidence of a Queen, leaving behind the girl that she loved. She watched as her sisters and the Priestess turned to watch her. A small smile found itself painted on Nova's face, but she continued her steady pace. She flicked both her arms outwards, and two long daggers slid from hidden pockets of her dress. Flames swirled around the two weapons, and sparks flew up wherever her foot landed. A snake-like sash of fire wrapped itself around her middle, and slowly slid downwards, ribbons of flame snaking down her skirt.

As a finishing touch, Nova added an intricate crown of fire to rest on top of her dark curls. She exhaled softly, and all the water in the Kingdom evaporated.

She ascended the four steps to the Temple with a dangerous smile, nothing more than a slash of red lips and sharp teeth. Nova joined the small circle of her sisters and the Priestess.

Goddess above, Nova could feel the heavy strain of the feat already. It took every ounce of willpower inside of her not to collapse onto the Temple steps. A bead of sweat rolled down her face, but it evaporated instantaneously as it made contact with her face.

Nova could feel their heavy gazes pinned on her, and a sound that almost could have been Selena gasping. But Nova didn't give them a glance in return; her head was lifted high, every inch a Queen. She wanted to collapse, to give in to the weakness. But she couldn't. Nova was fire, she was Flame; she would burn the world down, and everyone in it.

"Welcome home, Queenlings," the Priestess greeted, her voice a soothing purr. "We are, of course, thrilled to greet you all into the Temple of Drakon, god of warfare. A violent beginning to another long and illustrious reign for one of you.

"But I must ask you, Nova, to release your hold on the water in the Kingdom," the Priestess added, a smirk on her beautiful and young face.

Nova prayed to Elentiya that no visible sign of strain was showing. With a theatric wave of her hand, she released her hold on the water.

Selena shuddered our a breath beside Nova, and she gave her sister a passing look; the girl's face was paler than marble. Nova frowned as she noticed that Selena's hands were shaking beneath the folds of her dress.

"The Queentide has officially begun, my Queenlings," the Priestess continued, her bright blue eyes darting between the four of them.

Nova avoided making eye contact with Callisto, whom she could feel glaring daggers at her. That sister was not worth giving attention to. But Cressida, however...

That sister was not standing still, her hands fiddling with the golden material of her dress. Nova glanced down, and managed to stifle a laugh as she noticed that Cressida, a Queenling standing inside a sacred Temple of a dangerous god, was barefoot. Cressida must have felt the weight of Nova's gaze because she turned to her sister, her bronze eyes growing wide with surprise. Then, Cressida winked at her with darkly painted eyelashes before quickly turning away.

Nova's heart jumped inside her chest, but she forced her face to remain passive. Because there was something feral in her sister's eyes, something that almost scared Nova.

"Lacy," the Priestess said in a very soft voice.

A young girl, no older than ten, released a squeak before scampering to the Priestess, who's pristine face was warped into something darker. But that image quickly faded as the small girl, Lacy, apparently, held up a pillow, bowing her head deeply. Four knives rested on top of the satin black pillow, the silver gleaming brightly.

"Take a knife," the Priestess directed, "and spill your blood onto the stones of Drakon."

Nova was the first to grab a knife, the weight heavier than she expected. Callisto quickly followed suit, as did Selena and then Cressida. Nova twisted the blade in her hand, dreading what was to come. She had never been a fan of pain, not in the way that Arabella never seemed to mind it, whether it be a bruise or the ache of legs running too much and too far. Arabella was the brave one, but she was also the one that made Nova brave.

As was tradition, the oldest went first, Callisto stepping forwards to the ancient, blood-stained stone. With a swift motion, she cut the palm of her hand, allowing the blood to flow to the rock below.

Nova forced down a shudder. Of all the places to cut on a human body, the palm was not the smartest. But it was tradition, so it would be so.

Callisto held out her hand as the Priestess stepped forwards, a bowl of salt water in her hand. Her beautiful face was stoic as her bleeding hand came in contact with the salt.

Cressida went next, her long, golden hair blazing in the sunlight. Surprisingly, the girl didn't wince as she cut through her skin, and she had the audacity to smile as she placed her hand into another bowl.

Selena, looking offensively beautiful, made a shallow cut on her hand, the blood droplets landing decisively on top of Callisto's. Then, she put her hand into the salt water. Nova knew that the Wave could very easily force the dissolved salt particles to the edge of the bowl where it wouldn't touch her hand. But the firm determination on her face told Nova that her sister was not weak, not easily scared away from pain.

Then, Nova stepped forwards, her crown of flames still burning. She ran the knife over her palm, blood dotting up too quickly. It was a deep cut, but that was good; the mark of a Queen was meant to scar. Nova held out her hand, allowing her blood to spill on the blood-soaked stone. The stones of Drakon's Temple were only ever utilized for two reasons: the start of the Queentide and the declaration of war.

Nova made eye contact with Lacy, who was shakily offering up the small bowl of water. The girl was beyond terrified, and as she should be. Nova's heart constricted inside her chest as she placed her hand in the bowl.

Any attendant that wasn't a high Priestess during this ceremony would be immediately executed. Looking at the young girl with wide brown eyes and dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders made Nova feel almost sick; Lacy was so young, and she would be dead before the blood dried on the stones.

But that was tradition, so it would be so.