Among Shattered Stars, I May Fall: Book 1.

Chapter 11- Sloth and a Flame.

"Run, run little sloth with your wings of gathered star dust. Let's see how far you manage to get before the lick of flames begin to devour you whole."

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Queen Constance took a sip of red wine from the crystal goblet. She wasn't that monstrous enough for the beverage to actually be blood, but it was a rumour.
She slipped her leg over the other and brushed the leather of her tight trousers. The Queen had a belt strapped around her upper body containing a row of freshly sharpened daggers, each with a small diamond by the handle; they were as lethal as they were expensive.
Constance sighed as she set the goblet down on the oak table before her. The four Blossom Lords were seated opposite her, also with their own goblets of sweet wine though none had drunk from theirs since they preferred to fight sober. Unlike the Queen...

"My Queen-" The First hesitated. He quickly licked his dry lips. It had been a long past couple of weeks.
"Who exactly did you want to be assassinated?" It was a risky question, but now was too late to take it back. Constance looked down at her crystal encrusted nails as she gently tapped them on the table which sounded like raindrops on a window pane: something that didn't help the fact that the Third really needed to pee.
She smiled to herself. "Though I do respect your loyalty to the Throne and all the hard work you've done, I can't apologise for how nosey you're being."
The First's face flushed from embarrassment. He bowed his head.
"No, don't apologise. I forgive you." Constance quickly took a swig of her drink then slammed it back down onto the table. "Just don't do it again." A woman was leaning against the back of the Queen's chair, not facing the Lords. Her sleeved arms were crossed and she bit on her long, pink nails, smirking as if she was almost amused by the conversation. The heel of one of her knee-high boots tapped against the tiled floor. The Third was struggling to contain himself.
The First cleared his throat. "Then what about the failed assassin: Bellamy?" His forehead had beads of sweat forming.
Constance moved the goblet to the side and slid forward on her elbows, her chin resting in her palm as she held eye contact with the Lord. "My daughter was an idiot to protect him. I still want him dead..." She narrowed her bright eyes. The Fourth suddenly broke her train of thought, "May I suggest something-"
"Permission to speak is granted, Anaïs." The Queen chimed in.
The Fourth moved his head back to show he was offended by the interruption, but tried to work the movement into a stretch. A neck stretch..?
The woman spun around on her heel, finally facing the Blossom Lords. Adjusting her burgundy beret, which had the Royal Flower sewn onto, she brushed back her fringe so both of her alluring, violet eyes were visible.
"We consider the Guardien as an Outlaw. Announce it to any...surviving Nobles; announce it to anyone who wants to let some stress out." She twirled a dark curl of hair around her finger, smiling sweetly at each Blossom Lord and lingering on the Fourth before looking down at her Queen, "Anaïs, I can't have my palace become a breeding ground for corpses."

"It won't be much of a contribution to what you've added." Anaïs smirked. For a moment, anyone in the room would have thought the woman would have been beheaded for that. Anyone would have been beheaded for impudence, but this was Anaïs: a person the Queen probably preferred more than her own daughter.
Constance joined her smirk. "True."

The First rubbed his hands together, hoping to get rid of his nerves. The heavy ring on his pointer finger was cool against his warm hands. "Prime Minister, but what about the Princesse?"
Anaïs cocked her head, then bowed her head to the Queen. "If she continues to insist on protecting him, the Guardien will be her trouble. If she still wants him to live, he'll be her responsibility."

His eyes widened, "But her injury will make it impossible to guard him successfully-" It wasn't fair.

"Lord Kita. It appears you have forgotten her heritage."
He swallowed hard and his cheeks turned pink again. "Yes, she still has the injury I had imposed on her...but she's still a Fire Eyes."
"She can only just about summon a shield!"
"Raising your voice at me, Kita?"
The Blossom Lord lowered his head. Though he was almost half a decade older, once her eyes began to flare, he was the child. Constance smiled at the small victory. "Yes, her abilities aren't nearly strong enough to lift a pin, and her shield only lasted a minute or so. That is why it'll be easier to murder this Bellamy. It'll be easier to weaken Rosetta even further. She's already frustrated with her lack of such a Great power." The scent of burning flesh erupted. A flame had burst on the back of the First's hands. He jumped from his seat, waving his arms around in the air. The Guards on either side of the entrance hardly flinched at the sight of the burning man. The other three Lords stiffened, hoping they wouldn't be the Queen's next target, and knew they couldn't do anything to set the flames out. Yelping, the First stumbled backwards out of the doors, with which the flames immediately died out. His large hands had been burnt till they were almost black. The cufflinks on his sleeves had melted dreadfully, but fortunately hadn't bonded with his skin.
Fire Hands.
Anaïs cackled as she saw the First's horrified expression looking at the Queen. He couldn't even remain stoic. In that moment he decided that the Prime Minister was a witch, and not the Good kind.
The First nodded once and the doors were drawn closed as he made his way to find a Nurse.
"Like so."

XXX

The trip back to Satellite CYGMINVUL had been a staining grey blur for Marco. Her eyelids were being teased from the first sleepless night she had had in a long time. Even with Mona beside her, Marco hadn't been able to settle down. By the next breakfast, Mona had to force the plain yoghurt down her which she would have refused even further if Teddy hadn't managed to find some honey to sweeten it up.

With her Cygnus cloak giving her a timid embrace, Marco was now seated for the Assembly. Father Alec was of course at the front, again wearing the black suit. Again, again. Small things began to irritate Marco. The small, repetitive parts of her life.
The prayers she had decided she no longer believed in.
"Kindness, Humility, Abstinence, Liberality, Diligence, Chastity and Patience."

Marco rolled her eyes.

"Kindness, Humility, Abstinence, Liberality, Diligence, Chastity and Patience."

Marco yawned.

"Kindness, Humility, Abstinence, Liberality, Diligence, Chastity and Patience."

Marco recited. She had no choice.

From the row behind, Sunn thought: "Vow to never shatter the stars, my arse..."

Father Alec grinned at his audience, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Now I shall announce those who are due a thorough Cleansing." A wave of sighs rushed through the room. Cleansings were very rare, yet very common after visits with people beyond the Satellite. Godparents always sinned then. A Cleansing required taking a bath, obviously alone, in enchanted water meant to lift all impurities in order for a Godparent to redeem and repent. But the Cleansing also decreased a Trainee Godparent's ranking number which would later decided what role they would take on.
"Suncey Aslan."
Sunn was almost surprised. His cheeks turning pink, obvious to those who could see him that he knew what he had sinned by. "Lust." Some of the girls raised their eyebrows- they weren't surprised.
Of course Father Alec knew the list off by heart.
"Tedmond Gunnison." And if Teddy still hadn't been falling asleep due to any dart, he had definitely woken up. "Wrath." Marco flinched as she knew how that had happened.
She knew what was awaiting for her, too.
"Mona Titanos." She blinked up at the Father- definitely confounded. "Envy." Mona opened her mouth to misbehave by challenging him, but bit her tongue like a good girl should.
A couple of more names were listed. Barnaby's included, for whatever reason, Marco didn't care.
"And finally," Marco scratched at whatever there was left of her cuticles. She knew what would come next.
"Marcoletta Mignonette. Sloth." She dug her nail into her thumb too deeply and ran it up to a scratched, bloody cuticle. In that moment, the pain made her feel a little more alive.