Goddess of Flames

by J. A. Armitage

  "Look, just do whatever you want!" I huffed. "Just get out of my sight."

  He gave Maureen and me a filthy look and stubbed his cigar out on a stack of paperwork before heading out the door.

  "I'm sorry about him," Maureen apologized, picking up the cigar and stack of paper, which thankfully hadn't been set alight. She tipped the lot in the garbage.

  "The tents have been going up all week," Maureen enthused, changing the subject. "We have a temporary stadium, a huge tent for the competitors to sleep and eat in, and another to get changed in. I've ordered costumes for all of the competitors, and the entertainment is booked, so it's not all doom and gloom."

  "Entertainment?" I inquired.

  "Yes," she said, ticking something from a sheet on her clipboard." We have thousands of people coming to watch, so I've had to organize entertainment for before each part of the competition. This thing will go on for three days, and I don't want anyone getting bored. I've also got the kitchen working triple time and organized caterers from Zhore to help with the rest."

  Clay problems aside, she seemed to have the whole thing mostly in hand, and there was nothing I could do to help. This had started as my idea, and somewhere along the line, it had gotten out of control and run away without me. I'd started all of this as a way to get out of marrying Caspian and being able to marry Milo. He was right when I told him I wasn't ready for marriage. I'd told him over and over, not realizing how difficult it would be to hear. I had pushed him away.

  "Do you have a list of all the contestants?" I asked Maureen.

  A look of pure panic crossed her face before one of the other staff members passed a list to her.

  "Oh, yes. I knew I had one somewhere. Here."

  She passed it to me. The names were listed alphabetically by surname, although I noticed Caspian's name at the very top despite his last name being Montblanc. No doubt, he'd had a hand in it. I scanned down until I hit the k's. Milo's name was there, but with a thick black line through it. I'd hoped he would change his mind, but it was wishful thinking on my part. He'd gone. I'd lost him for good.

  "Thank you, Maureen," I said despondently, passing her back the list.

  "Don't you have a photoshoot later? "Maureen asked. "Maybe you should go and get ready for that."

  "Do I?" I couldn't keep up with everything these days. There was so much going on, and what with dragons, competitions, and doctors, things like photoshoots were very low on my list of things to worry about. Still, just because I wasn't worried, didn't mean that Dahlia wouldn't be. I could imagine her running around the castle in an increasing state of panic looking for me.

  "I should go," I sighed.

  I found Dahlia in the state of panic I expected in the castle kitchens. She fit right in with the general air of stress in there. Food covered every surface, and the head chef barked orders at anyone who dared to come close to him.

  "I thought you'd be down here trying to grab a sandwich, seeing as you missed breakfast," Dahlia said. "I managed to get you one. Here." She passed me a sandwich and bustled me out of the door. "They are making food for all the contestants, not to mention all the guests. The head chef has brought in a catering company to help, but now, they are taking over the kitchen, and he's not happy about it."

  "What's the photoshoot for?" I asked, not really caring. "The Sentinel? Haven't they got enough photos."

  "There can never be enough photos of you, but no. Reporters from all the kingdom's main newspapers have come in. We need you looking pretty."

  "Great!" I replied sarcastically. I expected a complete shit show. After all, the whole thing had been a disaster from start to finish, but when I walked into the main hall, dressed up to the nines with my hair styled and my makeup on point thanks to Dahlia, the photographers were seated in chairs in a perfectly civilized manner, waiting for my arrival.

  My father introduced me as I walked in. It was such a difference from the week before when a thousand men had been invited to meet me. I could hear a pin drop as I walked across the floor to a small stage that had been erected with a painted backdrop for the photos.

  The reporters clapped politely as I took my father's hand and stepped up onto the stage.

  "You look beautiful," he whispered as he took his place next to me. "Your mother would be proud."

  I gave him a shy smile. It was nice having my father back to his usual self.

  Photographers from the Sentinel, the Atlantice Conch, the Floris Observer, the Badalah Beacon, and all the others stood up to take photos of my father and me as we posed. The prideful father and the almost-wedded daughter. The only kingdom not represented was Elder, which never seemed to care about what was going on in the other kingdoms. They didn't even have a newspaper as far as I was aware.

  Once they'd finished photographing me posing with my father, who had also dressed up for the occasion, they wanted snaps of me on my own. I was painfully aware that my mother should have been standing by my side, but she was still upstairs wasting away in her bed.

  After the photos, I readied myself for the onslaught of questions, but instead of the men and women reporters fighting over themselves, someone handed me a list and told me to choose which questions I wanted to answer. As far as photoshoots and press conferences went, it was one of the most pleasant I'd had to deal with.

  "I told your father to warn them all to be civil," Dahlia confessed afterward as she took me back to my mother's dressing room. She would have had me dressed up in the beautiful dress all day, but she knew she'd have to listen to me complain about it. I pulled the dress off and stepped back into the jeans and t-shirt combo I'd left there before Dahlia went to work on removing my makeup. I hated wearing the stuff. It made my face itch.

  She was taking the hairpins out when we both heard a crash next door. The room next to the dressing room was my parents' bedroom. I caught Dahlia's eyes in the mirror. My father was still downstairs talking to the reporters. There should be no one in my mother's room.

  "Mother!" I shot up, almost knocking Dahlia over in the process. We both rushed to the room. My heart beat in triple time at the thought of my mother wakening up. She'd been asleep for so long. There was no other reason for the crash. Even if she'd fallen out of bed, it meant that she'd woken enough to move. I knew for a fact that the maid was not on duty at the moment.

  Excitement filled me as we crashed through her door, but it was to be short-lived. She was still asleep in the same position we had left her in. Beside her, a photographer I recognized from the press conference was snapping away so intently he'd not even noticed when we came through the door. The crash we'd heard was a vase he'd knocked over which lay on the floor as water from it seeped into the carpet.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Dahlia shouted, which made him finally take notice. Panic overcame his features as he tried to make a dash past us. I jumped in his way, blocking his path and grabbed his camera. There was no way in this kingdom. I was going to let him go with those pictures.

  He was stronger than I anticipated, and the harder I pulled on the camera, the harder he pulled back. Beside me, Dahlia screamed and waved her hands around. The guy pushed me into the doorframe in an attempt to hurt me enough so I'd let go of the camera. My head smashed against the frame sending shockwaves through my body and causing me almost to black out. I cried out in pain as everything began to spin, but my grip on his camera only tightened. My mother had always prided herself on her appearance, and although she was as beautiful in sleep as she was awake, she would hate having those photos printed. And they wouldn't just be printed in the kingdom that this reporter creep was from. They would spread so that everyone would see them.

  My head hit the frame again, and I felt the camera being tugged from my grasp. I wanted to hold on, but a surge of nausea overcame me.

  I pulled in a deep breath to orient myself, but as my vision cleared, the reporter went flying past me, almost hitting me as he crashed into the wall next to me. Caspian ran towards him and punched him i
n the face, knocking him out cold. He waved his hand, and the camera gave a little sputter then erupted into a ball of flames that died as soon as they had appeared. What was left of the camera, Caspian threw at the unconscious reporter.

  "Dahlia, please get a couple of guards to come and collect this garbage," Caspian said. "You'd better find out which kingdom he came from and get him on the first Airship home."

  Dahlia nodded and ran off down the corridor.

  I brought my hand to my head. Already a lump was forming somewhere under the hair and hairclips.

  "Are you alright?" Caspian asked, bringing his hand up to my face. I'd never felt so vulnerable in his presence before. I nodded. I would be alright, but it had shocked me. What with everything else going on, I'd not thought I'd need to worry about protecting my mother from photographers.

  "I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said, caressing my face. "When we are married, I'll protect you. I promise."

  I looked into his eyes and believed him, and for the first time, I didn't correct him.

  25th January

  I could already hear the noise of the people gathering without having to open my curtains. I knew it was going to be crazy insane after seeing the lines of people and all the tents yesterday. Not that I was remotely ready for it. How could I be ready? I had a thousand men waiting to make a clay figurine of me and not enough clay to go around. I'd have to look beautiful and charming all day, and all I wanted to do was stay in bed, hiding under my covers. Any second, Dahlia would waltz through the door with yet another dress for me to wear and jabber excitedly about the upcoming event. As if she read my mind, there was a small knock at the door followed by Dahlia calling me lazy and threatening to pour ice water over me to get me out of bed.

  "I'm getting up already," I croaked before she had time to carry out her threat.

  The dress she'd picked today was a pale powder blue. Not quite dark enough to match my mood, but blue enough to hint at it. I grabbed it from her and pulled it on before she tried wrestling me into the bath.

  "This is so exciting," Dahlia enthused.

  She clapped her hands together and pushed me into the chair by the window so she could work on my makeup and hair. I reached forward to open the curtains, but she batted them out of my hands.

  "Don't spoil the surprise," she admonished. "You'll get to see it all later."

  "Great!" I muttered, lacking any enthusiasm. The only good thing, as far as I could see, about the next three days was the fact that I wouldn't have to speak to Caspian. It meant that, at least, I could eat meals in peace without having to worry about his company. He was staying in one of the huge tents that had been arranged for the competitors. I didn't get the feeling that Caspian was one to stay in tents as a rule. Plus, it was freezing cold outside. I allowed myself a little smile at the thought of Caspian freezing his bits off in the tent. I couldn't see him being too happy about molding clay either. He just wasn't the artistic type, and he would hate getting his hands or clothes dirty.

  I swallowed back a laugh as Dahlia pulled my hair into a high up ponytail.

  Half an hour and one rushed breakfast later, and I was due to go outside.

  A trumpet fanfare sounded out as my father took my hand in the entrance hall to the castle.

  "Ready?" he asked, squeezing my hand.

  I nodded, my stomach in knots. I wasn't ready, but I never would be. This was an echo of what my father thought was to come with my wedding next week. This was practically a trial run for him. He thought he would be escorting me out to adoring crowds then too.

  Outside, a long walkway with high fences had been erected out to the pastures where the first leg of the competition would take place. It meant that the crowds hadn't seen us yet, and I could walk in quietness. The calm before the storm.

  I gripped my father's hand as we rounded the corner into what I could only describe as a huge stadium. One of the palace staff greeted us and showed us the way to our seats up some stairs at the back. Still, no one had seen us. My father held me back before a pair of curtains in front of us opened.

  "You ok?"

  I nodded and faced forward. Faced toward my future, whatever that would be.

  The trumpet fanfare started again, and my heart provided a handy percussion accompaniment.

  The curtains parted, and the roar that happened afterward deafened me with its magnitude. The whole stand shook as thousands of people stood and clapped at our entrance. Two golden thrones had been placed for us high up in the middle of the stand, and a pang of sadness filled me when I realized one was not for my mother, but for me.

  I walked silently to the throne and waved, plastering a fake smile to my face as the crowd went wild.

  Next to me, sat Remy and beyond him, Hollis. To my left was my father's throne, and next to that, Ash gave me a thumbs up. When the noise finally died down, I sat and gazed around the arena. I'd known it was going to be big, but nothing could have prepared me for just how colossal the place was.

  "How many people fit in here?" I whispered to my father as a man rode on horseback to the middle of the arena.

  "Twenty thousand members of the public have been let in, but I've been told there are thousands more outside. A thousand men can fit in the center of the arena to fulfill the tasks."

  The crowd went silent as a man dressed in a ringmaster's costume on a horse trotted into the arena. He did a lap as an excited buzz filled the stadium. The crowd went wild as he jumped up on the back of the horse, which continued to trot despite the man standing on its back.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began as the horse obediently trotted around in a circle so he could address everyone, "Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses. Welcome to the show."

  Show? This wasn't supposed to be a show. This was supposed to be an important event. Just as I was thinking that this was being lowered to nothing but entertainment, a group of jugglers dressed in Draconis national costume ran out of a tunnel.

  "The Draconis National Circus, ladies and gentlemen," the ringmaster said, before trotting back through the tunnel he'd come from.

  My stomach fell as the performers gathered into the middle. They didn't walk or run. They back-flipped and cart-wheeled and juggled their way to the center.

  All around me, the crowd lapped it up while I sat further into my seat and pretended I was still in bed, and this was some horrific dream. It wasn't that I didn't like performers. I usually loved anything like this, but my plan of getting this madness over and done with was rapidly falling away from me.

  The performers gathered into almost a ball before an explosion ripped through the stadium. My heart leapt into my throat, and a good many of the public screamed before a huge dragon made of fire erupted from the performers. It was all part of the show, but it amazed me how real it all looked. To the sound of drums, the fire dragon flew around the stadium, supported by the performers underneath to whoops and hollers coming from the delighted crowd. Even I, who had not wanted any of this sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what would happen next. Beside me, Remy stood up in his seat, shouting "dra'a" as the performers passed us.

  The percussion increased in pace, building up the tension before the dragon erupted in flames, and the performers collectively danced, pirouetted, and backflipped into a line. They bowed down to my father...or to me. I stood and clapped, feeling that my day might go better than expected.

  How bad could it be? It might be quite nice to watch a thousand men trying to recreate my likeness out of clay. The performers left as the ringmaster came back upon his horse.

  "And now for the main event. The reason you are all here. The first competition for the Princess Azia's hand in marriage."

  I offered up a shy smile as twenty thousand pairs of eyes swiveled my way.

  "Please welcome our contestants."

  Another cheer went up as the men began to pour out. I sat, literally on the edge of my seat, craning to see the competitors. Most of the men came out, their hands held aloft,
fist-bumping the sky, and generally playing it up for the crowd that was loving it.

  It took over fifteen minutes to get all of them in the arena. The floor of the arena filled right to the edges leaving very little space for the clay. I watched as the ringmaster trotted back out through the tunnel, and a pair of doors closed behind him. They would open shortly with the huge amounts of clay needed for them to sculpt with. While I waited, I scanned the men again. I found Caspian quickly even though he was wearing the same red outfit as the rest of the men. He'd hate that. There was nothing Caspian liked more than to feel superior with his spiffy way of dressing. Nevertheless, he seemed happy enough as he waved to the crowd along with the others. A few seats in front of me, I saw the back of Charlotte's head as she stood and waved enthusiastically back. I'd not had a chance to speak with her this morning, but I knew she was more excited than I was about this competition.

  The tunnel doors opened again, and I sat back into my seat, more excited than I thought I'd ever be. I reflected that making a sculpture of me would be a rather boring event after the earlier performers, and the crowd would be sorely disappointed with the lack of action in the first part of the competition I'd planned. Not that it really mattered. What mattered was whittling these men down to a hundred for the next part of the competition tomorrow.

  If sculpting was the way to do it, then so be it.

  I was just thinking with dismay that I wasn't going to see Milo's rendition of me now that he'd left when something orange appeared in the corner of my eye.

  Somewhere someone screamed, but this was not the scream of excitement. This was fear.

  I did a double-take as the screams became louder and not only from the audience. The men nearest the tunnel surged towards us as the orange thing became clear in my eyesight. It was about as far from a lump of clay as anything could get. With bared teeth and sharp claws, the tiger strolled out into the arena.