Crown of Smoke

            The palace was in flames. The smell of smoke seemed to consume everything, making the masses of people trying to escape choke and squint as it burned their eyes and attacked their lungs. The palace guards were frantically trying to wield the nobles out of the grand hall and into their carriages before the flames could spread, but one guard, in particular, had taken it upon himself to go further inside, determined to rescue his king and queen who he had served so loyally for so long.             Panicked maids scurried past him towards the exit as he pushed back into the heart of the palace against the tidal wave of people. He climbed the stairs, higher and higher until he reached the royal family’s floor. The fire seemed to be worsening the more he explored the floor, his breathing hard and heavy as the heat began to take its toll on him just as much as the smoke. He tried to make his way to the throne room but the sound of a baby’s cry through a door stopped him. He turned, seeing the large white door of the nursery completely closed. He pushed up against it, but despite his efforts, it did not budge. He heard a voice inside, muffled and raspy, but there. He pushed once more and the wood began to collapse against his weight.             “Move away from the door!” He tried to shout to whoever was inside as he took some steps back and ran straight, his shoulder bashing the door open, making him fall to the ground. He spluttered and tried to look around.             Through the slits of his eyelids, he could barely make out the figure of a woman holding a baby coming towards him. The queen’s handmaid appeared, kneeling at his side. He felt his shoulders lose their tension at her familiar voice.             “Elliot!” She squealed before coughing again, kneeling down beside him. Her hands touched his face, moving away from the dirt and soot that lingered there just to make sure it was him but the way his head gently moved into her touch was enough to tell her. “Rose.” He sighed. She looked relieved for a moment before the panic returned to her eyes just as quickly as it had left. “We have to leave.” She tugged at his arm, a feeble attempt to get him to move. “Now.”             “Where are the king and queen?” He spluttered.             She shook her head, her eyes leaving him and pointing to the back of the room. Elliot stumbled up, making his way past Rose to the two shapes laying on the back floor. He bent down, examining their faces. They did not move, their chests did not rise or fall. They were not afraid like Rose, sat quivering behind him, they were dead. He took a moment, removing his helmet, and gently placed it on the king’s chest. He had been his friend, once, before he was his royal guard, and the beginning aches of grief began to lodge themselves in his chest. He turned back, making his way to Rose. The king and queen could no longer be saved, but she could.             “They’re gone, aren’t they?” Rose asked him, a tremble in her voice.             Elliot nodded solemnly. He reached his hand down and picked up Rose, the child still in her arms, pressed up against her breast. He took off his cape and wrapped it around them, a pathetic shield from the smoke, but it was all he had to offer.             The way out was easier than the way in, they blended into the stragglers making their way out now, mostly kitchen staff and footmen folded in with the odd duke or duchess. Elliot kept a tight hold of the figures hidden beneath his cape and thanked the universe that the child had stopped crying so they didn’t draw any attention to themselves. If the king and queen were dead, there was no longer any safety left in the palace for them. They would have to flee as fast and as far away as they could. Someone had to have been responsible for this night, and there was no way that Elliot was going to let Rose be in danger. As they reached the outside, the smoke still lingered in the air, but it was no longer suffocating. Elliot smiled as he heard Rose emerge from beneath the cape and gasp, breathing in as much of the cleaner air into her lungs as she could. The child began to make some muffled noises, wriggling beneath the blankets she was wrapped up under. Rose made soft hushing sounds, moving cloth away to reveal her sweet, disgruntled face. Elliot’s fingers absent-mindedly touched her forehead, warm and soft to the touch. Rose looked up at him and he nodded. “She will need to be seen by a doctor.” He whispered. “But what do we tell them?” Rose asked. “We tell them she’s ours.” He replied. Rose raised her eyebrows and Elliot rolled his eyes fondly. “We’re as good as married and we can have the ceremony the moment we get out of here.” He looked down at the child once more. “We’ll raise her.” Elliot declared. “I think we’d be adequate enough, and it doesn’t seem she has much choice. I’m not putting her in some orphanage.” Rose smiled, tiptoeing to reach up and kiss his blackened cheek. “I think we’ll be more than adequate.” She whispered. There were some things that didn’t need to be said by either of them for them to know. How the child could never know who she truly was, and nor could anyone else. It would not be easy, not by any means, but it was important. Elliot looked around, pulling Rose in closer to him. There had been a ball that night, a celebration for the anniversary of the coronation. Nobles were in a panicked frenzy, still dressed in their ash-covered finery. It meant an easy escape, slipping out amongst the chaos. He searched over the heads and clapped eyes onto the only medic in the palace he could trust. He moved quickly, Rose following. The sooner they got out of there, the better. The moment the doctor saw the child; he knew who she was. He lowered his voice, looking at Elliot gravely. “Elliot, you know the danger you’re putting yourself in. There was someone behind this tonight, but if you desert the palace tonight then you’ll be the one they push the blame onto.” “I know, Ansel, but what choice do we have?” Elliot stressed. “Just keep this between us and there’ll be no issue.” Ansel sighed, taking the child from Rose’s arms and looking her over. She was hot and covered in soot but after listening to her breathing there did not seem to be any immediate problems. He passed the child back to Rose. He looked between the pair. As much as he hated to let them go, Elliot and Rose would be the right people to take the child and raise her.  “Take my carriage. The horses are already lined up, I drove it here myself, so there’s no need to try and lie to some footman or other,” he said. “I do not expect to hear from you, so I can only wish you the best of luck my friend.” Ansel clasped Elliot’s hand and with that, the doctor turned back to the crowds as though nothing had happened. Elliot and Rose found the carriage at the edge of the woods, the two horses already in position and ready to go just as Ansel had promised. Rose clambered into the back and Elliot shut the door behind her. He turned and took one last long look at the burning palace. It was the place he had found sanctuary, a home, a girl whom he had fallen for. And now it would be turned to ashes. With who knew what to take its place.