66. (Brothers and Sisters)

Part One: Insurrection (Reid)

He runs, boots clunking clumsily against the polished-wood floor. A left, and a right, and another right, peeking his head into this room or that with as much quickness as he can muster. He is Reid Ado, and for the last ten minutes he has been the king of the sprawling city of Cal Aeros; eleven minutes or so ago he was only the heir. His skin is fair, his hair is black, and his eyes are a shade of blue that would make one think they’re artificially colored. He is of moderate height, but lanky in build, all arms and legs and awkward angles; from between his shoulder blades sprout two wings, black and feathered like a raven’s.

He runs, because he is now the king, and because somewhere behind him, somewhere above him in the tree-made-palace, men are hunting him. He can hear them shouting as they fight the guards--what few are still loyal--tooth and nail. Those guards told Reid to run, to flee, to find his sisters and get to safety. He knows they'll be dead soon, outnumbered and nearly caught unaware.

He runs, because he does not want his reign to end in his early demise. He is, after all, only twenty-two.

Someone behind him shouts his name—an unfamiliar voice—and Reid dives into the first door he comes across, narrowly avoiding the rain of arrows that shower the corridor behind him. He springs to his feet and kicks the door closed, bars it, turns—and realizes that he has trapped himself.

Reid curses under his breath. He also realizes that he is not alone: cowering in the corner of the room, clearly aware of the events of only a mere fifteen minutes ago, are two of his parents’ younger servants—a boy and a girl, no more than thirteen. Mara’s age. Their wings are like those of a sea-gull, white with grey tips.

There is a pounding on the door behind him. He scans the walls wordlessly, hoping beyond hope that somewhere there is a door that he did not see, but hope is lost as only smooth walls greet him.

“Prince Reid!” the male servant hisses, pointing. The door behind him is splintering now. Reid closes his eyes, forces himself to concentrate. Something slides across the floor to his feet—a sword! The servant children look at him hopefully. It’s an old blade—the Angelis know how long it’s been forgotten in this one-of-many rooms in the palace-tree—but Reid picks it up deftly and whips it out of its scabbard.

The child, as children often are, was wrong about Reid's title. In addition to no longer being the prince, but the king, his official title of Commander Ado, of the Royal Guard. Like his siblings, other than poor, poor Sarah, Reid was not allowed to simply languish in the royal riches. Instead, he was asked to choose his role. Like both Eri and Mara, he went military—and, as Ados typically do, excelled and rapidly climbed the ranks.

The attackers come, the door shattering with the force of their axes, and Reid runs—toward them now, blade held high. He’s outnumbered, but they don’t expect him to be armed. The first attacker goes down, spraying blood from where his head should be, and Reid slips his sword through the armor of the next, pushing him back into his compatriots, and everywhere is a mess of tangled wings, floating feathers, and splattered blood. The attackers—he doesn’t know how many, exactly, he’s up against—slip on the pooled blood and fall, and Reid stands over them, sword swinging. His attacks are clumsy—he is the Commander because of his leadership skills, not his prowess with a blade.

But in the end, Reid prevails. He stands over the bodies, panting. The children sprint past him and away, down the corridor. He pays them no mind now—it’s not them the usurpers are after, it’s him.

And his sisters.

Reid slips the sword into his belt and takes all of fifteen seconds to catch his breath. He’s only been the king for twenty minutes—there will be plenty of time to avenge his parents’ death, later, as well as Sarah's. He’s still got Mara and Eri to find.

And so, Reid runs.