Frozen Flames: The Queen of Hell

Chapter Five: The Queen of Hell

Dedication for this goes to @ScottButcher, who I'd like to thank a thousand times over for his encouragement and advice on The Queen of Hell's prologue. Check out his works?

Also, I have changed the installment's cover; the old cover has become the face for the entire series of books that I hope this will become. Old cover can be found in the media section on this chapter.

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        Ellis resisted the urge to slump in his father's throne. He felt dwarfed by the elaborate piece of furniture, and somehow, no matter what he tried to tell himself, he couldn't bring himself to consider it his. To him, it was his father's, and he suspected that nothing would ever change that indisputable fact. Wonderful; a king who refused to think of a throne as his own. Some help he'd be to his kingdom.

        As Dahl had demanded, Ellis had conceded to attend his own coronation ball against his better judgment. What the Hell could Dahl be thinking, placing a ticking time-bomb in the room like that? The guy must be delusional!

        And on the matter of Dahl, where was the knight, anyway? Broken oaths were quite unlike him, and yet he failed to attend the ball as he had sworn he would do. This knowledge resulted in a swelling nervous feeling in the young king's stomach. Something was wrong, and no one else seemed to notice the fact.

        Ellis sighed, propping his head up on his hand as he watched the denizens of Arendelle's capital city swirling around with undeniable grace and beauty alike. A sea of color was the dance floor, woman of all ages and shapes dressed in elaborate, colorful gowns, providing a luscious symphony of colors. Most waves of color were accompanied by a speck of black or gray, the shades generally swallowed by the cacophony of more inspiring hues. Yet those dull specks endured, content to be swallowed by their lovelier companions. From this, Ellis derived a ponderous fact; even through mourning and despair, joy would prevail. He would have to think about such a revelation at a later point in time. But right now...

        "Your Majesty," a squeaky voice declared. Ellis tore his gaze away from the sea of color, instead fixing his eyes upon a short-statured, slender old man with thinning white hair and an aging suit that Ellis supposed was magnificent at one point in its life. By that time, however, the garment came off as merely antique. The man's beady, faded blue eyes stared up at Ellis from behind his black-rimmed glasses. "Duke Brynjar of Weselton," the man  introduced himself with a bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My King."

        Struggling to place the name of the man's duchy in terms of prominence and location, Ellis provided the duke with a forced smile, aware of the two burly guards flanking him. "It's a pleasure, to be sure, Sir," he responded with a slight nod.

        The duke smiled with contempt that was so unconcealed, Ellis had the sudden urge to demand he leave. But that would only draw attention over to the exchange, and until Ellis could place the man... "My sincere condolences one the passing of the late king and queen," Duke Brynjar provided in earnest. "And the princess, as well." He shook his head. "I must admit, however; I hardly knew anything of the crown prince."

        Ellis uttered a harshly forced laugh, but the others seemed not to notice. This was tedious ground, he knew; he'd have to relax and brush it off the best he could. "I don't usually leave my chambers or the library," he informed the duke with a slight smile. He raised his eyebrows slightly. "I pretty much stick to my studies."

        To Ellis' relief, the duke and his company bought it. Brynjar gave a solemn nod. "That is admirable." He peered up at Ellis with those beady eyes of his. "I daresay that Arendelle is in good hands." He pulled out a gilded pocket watch with a frown before looking back up. "Well, I apologize, Your Majesty, but it seems to have gotten late; we really must take our leave."