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Ash fell to the ground like snow. An image she had watched a hundred times before. The fire reached out towards her, curling like fingers trying to catch her long skirt in their hungry grasp. Elia clawed at her throat, scratching at her soft skin, as she breathed in too much smoke and felt her lungs constrict. The sound of thunder and a gust of wind thrust the flames into a frenzy. The howl and beat of a dragon.
A hand came to her, reaching through the fire to bring her home. Elia took it without question. She and her unknown saviour were almost out of the woods when ice pierced her stomach. Elia gasped for breath. The smoke made her eyes fuzzy and the cold was spreading across her body. There was blood on her white dress, black and sticky. Ice crawled over her skin, turning her to stone.
The sun went out and Elia woke up.
The door of the holding cell made a tremendously overdramatic sound as it unlocked. Laid on the sorry excuse for a cot, Elia reluctantly opened her eyes. Thin rays of pale sunlight squeezed through the window on the left side of the room. It was too early for this. She was ready to roll over and ask for five more minutes before the guard looked down towards her and held the door open.
“No breakfast?” she asked, forcing herself to sit up. Her muscles felt stiff and she bit back a yawn. It was better not to show them that she was still tired.
“Your bail has been posted. You can collect your belongings on your way out,” was all the guard said before almost dragging her from the cell as soon as she stepped away from the bed.
Once Elia stepped out of her cell, another man was thrown into where she had been — a man with an unfortunate face and a putrid smell. A drunk. And the door locked loudly behind him.
She didn’t need to be shown the way, but Elia followed the guards away from the holding cells with an innocent smile. There were no personal effects for her to pick up besides her house keys (which had driven the guards mad when she was brought in and she stated that she was a Princess of Aphelion but had no ID with her) and she welcomed the sunlight on her face when she stepped back into the world.
“Your mother won’t be happy about this,” said a voice on Elia’s right.
The Princess turned her head to see her planet’s senator, Alerie Sitara, sat waiting for her. The senator rose from the bench and dusted her pretty dress. Her pressed curls gleamed in the early morning light; her eyes the colour of Aphelion’s great ocean. Alerie’s gentle face was wracked with worry. (Elia found herself grateful that her sister Athena was not the one bailing out, like usual.)
“She’ll get it expunged as usual,” Elia replied. Even without a mirror, she could tell by Alerie’s expression that she looked a mess. Elia wasn’t surprised. After last night’s events, she knew her hair was messy and her shirt and trousers were “unfit” for a princess to be seen in. “Besides, it was a peaceful protest.”
