Inked

20

"Your Ruthlessness." Soleil lowered herself into a curtsy, her sharp nose practically touching the polished floor. How good it felt to be back home in Devondria's castle, if only for a moment, with its soaring ceilings dripping with coal-black chandeliers and its sconces made of bone, constantly cradling black flames.

"Flame-Spinner, my beloved. Tell me what you have been up to." Her Ruthlessness's voice was enough to freeze a man's heart, her eyes dark enough to swallow up a man's soul. But to Soleil, Devondria was not just a mentor, but a mother. Devondria did not always feel this was the case, and regarded Soleil as more of the spy and trusted servant she really was, but Soleil seemed blind to this lack of reciprocated appreciation.

Standing up as straight as she possibly could, feeling she would bump her head on the chandeliers, that's how proud she felt, Soleil relayed the robbers' plan, all the while twirling blue flames between her fingers. However, all of this Devondria had suspected. She knew to what lengths Violante would go to remove her from the throne. She knew the robbers had overthrown one ruler. She wasn't dim. She understood that they would rather perish than see her continue reigning, that they would rather migrate to the mountains where the giants were assumed to live rather than have her control both Ombra and Argenta. But, you see, she didn't care. Her loyal soldiers were vast in number and skilled in their abilities, and the size and strength of her army grew more and more with each passing day. Devondria had convinced herself that she was unbeatable, and therefore acted accordingly.

"Your Ruthlessness," Soleil's voice reached out to Devondria's prideful ears. Raising her eyebrows for her scout to continue, Devondria listened as Soleil explained her new plan. "We may have some more leverage than originally anticipated." A single glance at the guards propelled them into action. The massive throne room doors opened and two soldiers paced in, dragging Farid in between them. His wrists were bound, his mouth was gagged, but there really was no purpose for these restraints. The boy was still unconscious, having yet to recover from the powerful magic Soleil unleashed on his inexperienced body. Burns were visible on his grimy face and neck, blistering black wounds that had a long healing period ahead of them. Squinting, Soleil began to reflect that she could have scarred him for life. No matter. He might be dead soon enough, all of them might be dead soon. And too bad, really. It had been nice having someone else with her abilities.

"Who is this boy?" Devondria inquired, looking bored and disgusted and proud all at once.

Soleil stepped closer to the queen's throne and brushed some sparks from her hair. "Your Majesty, this boy is a friend of the witch girl. From what I've seen, they were once more than friends. I know she will come after him once she finds out he is here." Soleil rushed to finish before she lost Devondria's interest again. "And then, once we have her trapped in the dungeons, I have no doubt that her father will come to her aid. My queen," Soleil surmised, barely able to contain her excitement, "if this works, which I know it will, we will have the Bluejay, his witch of a daughter, and the amateur fire-eater all under this roof. In addition, we will most likely get the Fire-Dancer and the Bluejay's wife as a bonus. Your Most Magnificent Highness," Soleil concluded, practically floating off the ground with enthusiasm, sparks flying wild all over her hair and around her fingers and in her eyes, "after we capture all our enemies, Violante can no longer seriously consider rising against us in war. If this works out" -- Soleil gave a little chuckle -- "if this works out, you will be queen over everything in this world."

With that final statement, Soleil allowed Devondria's shadows to carry her back to the robbers' camp, preparing herself mentally during the short trip for the next part of her plan. Although she was surrounded by darkness, the excited fire in her could not be contained. 

It's all going according to plan, Soleil sang in her head. It's all going according to plan.