Blood and Fire
Chapter 7
Fallen Angel

Aidan plopped limply onto the bed with a heartfelt sigh. The sun was setting outside of his room in the Dragon Queen’s tower, and ordinarily he would be feeling energized by the oncoming night, but recent events had left him wrung out enough to sleep the night away and the following day too. I feel my age, he thought, and then some. He glanced at the mirror that hung over the fireplace, which reflected an empty room back at him. Though I probably don’t look it, he added wryly to himself. If I were still on Earth, I’d get carded at all the clubs.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?”

He turned his head, not bothering to get up off the bed at the sound of a familiar alto voice. “Pondering my age. There are times when I feel old and worn out.”

Flame Song stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “You don’t have any claim on old age, youngster,” she said with a smile. “You’re still barely half as old as I am, after all.”

Aidan laughed at that. “True, true.” He sat up and scooted over on the bed to make room. “Have a seat.”

Flame Song sat down next to him and put her arm around his waist. He yawned and leaned his head on her shoulder.

“How are the kids?” asked Aidan.

“They’re fine. They still remember who we are, thankfully. I’m very glad that we retired from the adventuring business. I know that what the Queen's Own does is very important, but I don’t like being away from them.” She shook her head, sending a strand her wavy, flaming-red hair in front of Aidan’s nose. He brushed it away absently.

“I know what you mean. But at least this was a once only. It’s not every day that our skills are badly needed enough that Tara would call us back from retirement. And now all is well and we can go home. I want to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Staying on a daylight schedule?” asked Flame.

“Since we’re traveling most of the way with that caravan, I figure we ought to. We can switch back to nights once we get home.”

They had been forced to change their travel habits since having the twins. There was simply no way to make the trip on foot or by air with three children, the oldest of whom had only just molted into her first set of real flight feathers. So they'd made arrangements to travel with a trade caravan. It was slow, but safe, and also much less tiring.

Aidan yawned again and Flame Song found herself echoing it. “Well, in that case we ought to get some sleep,” she said.

“I’ll second that motion,” said Aidan. He got up off of the bed and went to change for bed. Flame Song followed his example and soon they were snuggled together in bed. He absently tugged at the torc around his neck, which had gotten askew and was digging into his throat.

Flame Song reached over and touched the torc, asking sleepily, “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“It used to drive me crazy, but I’ve been wearing it long enough I’m used to it by now.” It had been ten years since Aidan had stolen the iron torc. In all that time he had only removed it once, and then only for the briefest possible instant. Knowing what he knew now, he wasn't going to be removing it again.

Flame’s hand moved from the dark collar to his soft white wings, and she stroked the feathers absently. He let out a long sigh and went still, dropping into a deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. Flame Song soon followed him, though unlike her unbreathing vampiric husband she snored softly.

Aidan awoke slightly before dawn. He yawned and rolled over to look at his wife. He found her looking back, a sleepy smile on her face. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied with another yawn. They got up and got ready for the coming day’s journey. Aidan got dressed, choosing an outfit in his usual dark blue and finishing by draping his sun medallion, with its red stone that matched the one in his torc, around his neck. He ran his fingers along the chain in a nervous habit, making sure the links were solid. Ever since Branson Alder had torn it off he'd been a little bit nervous about it. It protected him yes, but it was also a point of vulnerability.

He looked at Flame Song, now dressed in a practical outfit of muted greens. She gave her reflection a glance in the mirror. Aidan came up behind her, though the mirror still showed her alone in the room. “You’re looking wonderful as ever today,” he said.

“Thanks.” She turned around and smiled at him. “Your torc is crooked though,” she added, reaching out and adjusting it so the stone rested in the center.

“The kids should be up by now,” said Aidan. “Let’s go get them and hit the road.”

They tidied up and left the room, headed downstairs for the nursery. When they swung open the door they were greeted by the sound of young children at play. A shrieking little brown-haired girl dashed by with a giant white-furred kitten in hot pursuit. “Firedart!” said Flame, recognizing the cat as their three-year-old son.

He skidded to a halt. “Hiya mom!”

“Where is your brother?” asked Flame.

“He’s no fun, he’s over there.” Firedart raised one paw and pointed across the big room to his twin.

A second young feline, this one marked by orange and yellow wings, was sitting near one corner talking with a girl of about twelve or thirteen who was the oldest child in the room. The pair recognized Hope, their friend Brianna’s little girl. They scanned the room, looking for their oldest child, six-year-old Littlespark. She was helping a group of younger children build a block city. Without need for consultation, the pair split, Flame going to where Phoenixflare was talking to Hope while Aidan went to retrieve Littlespark.

“Hey, Fuzz-ball,” Aidan called out to her, “time for us to go.”

“Aw,” said Littlespark, getting to her feet. All three children were shapeshifters, and Littlespark, as she usually did when among other children, had taken human form. She was cute as a button with fair skin dusted with freckles, intensely green eyes, and shoulder-length white hair that was just starting to turn orange.

“Poor kid,” said Aidan with a grin. “But I was thinking that while we're on the road I should start giving you flying lessons, how does that sound?”

“Cool!” replied Littlespark. “Let’s go!”

They got the children herded out of the nursery and headed out of the tower. They had already said their goodbyes the day before, so now they were ready to depart. The caravan had stayed the night in the nearby town, and was now setting out past the Tower, headed north to Porttown. From there they would catch a ship to Snowcap and make the rest of the trip to their home on foot.