All the Queen's Angels

Ch. 25: Anarchy

The sun seems to rise again in plumes of flame as the horizon is assaulted with explosions. Even on the mainland, the tremors cause the roses to shiver in the ashen twilight air. As the smoke and ash drift into the garden guards flood onto the scene to protect the heirs to the throne. Guests begin to panic as another explosion follows. Malcolm never flinches.

"That is undoubtedly our navy destroying Gardenian rebel forces," I hear the captain boast. Other guests agree and toast to the explosions, oddly unbothered.

"What if it isn't? Shouldn't we take shelter?", quips the baron. Guests laugh and dismiss him, lighting cigars and sparklers. Leander appears at the entrance to the greenhouse with General Amaryllis by his side.

"Forsythia will not cower before any threats. Together we are unmatched," he declares, raising a glass. "To the Forsythian Empire!". He stares directly at Malcolm, but the devilish man doesn't react.

Everyone toasts and cheers, but the general quickly tears herself from his grip and begins discussing with military officials and guards. The officials just brush her off, telling her to take the day off on her wedding day. These people had become so accustomed to war and drunk on success that their arrogance numbs them to fear. Soon, the explosions fade and the air becomes thick with cigar smoke and the clinking of glasses. I watch as Malcolm approaches the general and they return to the palace. In the haze, I seek out Penthia and find her at the edge of the party. Before I can reach her, she disappears into the hedges, distraught.

I follow her, eager to rid myself of the smoke that threatened to smother me. Half of it was ash and the tipsy guests didn't even notice.

"Penthia!" I call through the rose hedges, but she doesn't seem to hear me. She knows her way through the gardens much better than I do, and I soon find myself getting turned around. There's some commotion up ahead and it sounds like maybe Natalia is speaking with her. A flash of sage green silk catches my eye and I hurry to catch up.

Then a hand grabs my arm and suddenly pulls me behind a statue.

"Stabby," he whispers hoarsely. The deja vu is overwhelming as I turn to face the fallen angel I know so well. "I found you," he breathes.  His gaze softens as he drinks in the sight of me, and he seems to forget what he was going to say next.

"Where the hell were you? Why didn't you send a sign that you were alive?," I whisper in shock. He simply shakes his head, avoiding my gaze and igniting panic within me. I step closer. Though he starts to pull away, his resolve wavers. "I waited for you while everything fell apart. Why are you here? What's wrong? Wait, are you injured? Ambrose, talk to me—," I press before he grabs my jaw and crushes his lips to mine.

I forget to breathe for several heartbeats, my lungs thawing as he kisses me deeply, roughly, desperately. He takes his time, careful not to break contact, neither of us daring to pause for something as useless as air. My lashes flutter and I glimpse his furrowed brow, his flushed cheeks, as we are reduced to a tangle of lips and teeth and tongue. My hands are buried in his hair as he clasps my waist. My chest heaves against his as he curves his body into mine and we stand there, intertwined in the smoky moonlight. The sudden taste of salt causes us to break away, and he brushes the tears from my cheeks with steady hands.

"I've come to bring you home," he rasps. "I hope I'm not too late."

"Finally," I sob as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"Is that a yes?," he chuckles. Then he stiffens, rubbing his thumb against my neck and sending goosebumps across my skin. "Is that a hickey?".

I never get to respond, because over Ambrose's shoulder, I stare down the barrel of General Amaryllis's gun. Behind her, Penthia watches in horror.