Black Blooded

•one•

Looking up from the soapy bath water, she traced the outline of the 1500s style cherubs painted onto the high ceilings with her stinging, red eyes. Her dark hair floated in the bubbly water while her legs dangled over the edge. With her head submerged beneath the cold water, she rubbed her water-wrinkled fingers over where her lungs should be, as if to calm them back into complacency. They seemed to seize, but yet she didn't want to come up for air; no matter how much her eyes stung from the soap or how much her lungs pleaded for oxygen; she didn't want to breathe.

"Queen Azeala?" A servant girl asked from the door, holding an ornate gold platter filled while freshly warmed towels. Seeing Azeala submerge herself like that wasn't new, nor was it worry some.

"Queen Azeala." The girl announced her presents louder this time, and the woman in the tub raised out of the icy waters like a swan would take flight in soft stillness of the early morning fog. "Ma'am," began the girl, smiling in a motherly way. "It's time to get out of the bath... We wouldn't want another incident, would we?" Leona, the servant, questioned, referring to the ice floating in the bubble bath. Leona set the tray on the white marble counter and took a small second to fix her grey serving dress. In the mirror, the girl saw Azeala look discussed at the ice water, then dejectedly step out of the porcelain tub, water cascading down her naked body and onto the marble tiles.

"Leona," Azeala asked thoughtfully, still glancing at the icy bath. "Do you think I'm dangerous?" The queen, received a warm towel and another smile.

"No, almost everyone has powers like you, nowadays." The servant girl emptied the bath and picked up her towel platter, turning away to hide her lying face. "Ice just happens to be unstable for you, darling." Leona bowed, then promptly exited the extravagant bathroom to leave the queen in peace.

Azeala glanced over the ice sitting in bottom of the beautiful porcelain basin and sighed, gently shaking her head. She rubbed the warm towel against her freezing skin, ignored the burn of the soft heat, and hummed a tune, hoping to ease her mind.

• • • •

"I don't like it; I'm not signing something that chains my people!" Azeala snapped sternly, pushing the bill away. "Joan and Keial," Azeala called for her journalists. "Both of you, go to the Council and tell them they're stupid! I want a realistic bill on my desk by tonight! Tell them I'm not singing something that only benefits one percent of the community. I want it to be fair." The two writers scurried away, and a new figure entered the room.

"Go away, Leona, I've had enough tea." The queen grumbled, facing the large window, holding her golden tea cup.

"I have many names, but I've never been called Leona."

Azeala dropped her tea cup and it shattered in front of her bear feet. Her throat burned, and memories reeled as she tried to turn around to see if he was truly there. Her heart started to speed like a rabbit retreating from a predator, and her icy hands shook.

"L-Lucifer."

Azeala's lip quivered as she slowly turned to face him. "That's right babe, here I am." He smirked, holding his arms out as if to open his arms for a friendly embrace, but the queen did not run to his muscular, leather jacket clad arms. She did not look longingly at his beautiful brown eyes or kiss his curvaceous pink lips or run her finger through his blond hair with satisfaction or gently caress his chiseled cheeks or jaw line; no. Instead, Azeala picked up a heavy book and chunked it at the fallen angel.