The Unkindness of Fire

Chapter 6

"The royal families of Diladia were acutely aware of the public's perception of them, especially during tense war times. Though some viewed the Royal Refugee Act a measure of benevolence, others viewed it as a way to keep the peace as Diladian citizens grew weary of the war." - Excerpt from A Day in the (Royal) Life, page 140

***

"Do you think that this is real marble?" Vencia toes the white step just outside the entrance to the Theros manor, poking it like it might move beneath her force.

I laugh. "No, I think they use the cheap stuff here."

Vencia scowls at me as we approach the ginormous glass doors at the front of the building. Inside, it seems that throughout the building, there are little odes to the great Theros lineage - paintings of the family crest and of the former Theros Kings and Queens, the colors of the family - green and silver - used as accent colors wherever they could be. I try not to stare at any of the paintings for too long, feeling as if their eyes follow me as we make our way up the stairs towards our new home.

"This place used to be a school?" Vencia scrunches her nose at the elaborate marble stairway, the high ceilings and mahogany accents more luxurious than anything we had ever grown up around.

"I guess so. Hard to tell it now." Thankfully, the Theros family decor only seemed to be at the entry of the building, and the hallways are rather mundane.

"Oh hurry up," Vencia groans as we stand outside our door. "I can't take one more minute of anticipation."

"Alright, alright," I laugh as I fumble the key.

"It's wonderful," Vencia squeals, pushing past me and into the apartment, dropping her box to run from room to room. There's two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen and living room. Fully furnished, though somewhat bare, the space is simple, and it is ours.

This space is ours.

I close the door, and stand there for a moment, relief threatening to errode my facade of strength.

"Can this be my room?" Vencia shouts.

I set my box down and join Vencia in her bedroom. "Sure, kid. Whatever makes you happy."

"This is lovely." Vencia falls back onto the bed, sprawled about with no sense of grace. "It's not home, but it's a real bed."

Vencia, for the first time since we have fled home, has a peaceful smile on her face, and a fraction of the weight on my shoulders feels lifted. I blink back the tears that threaten to ruin the moment.

"Well, unpack your box sister, we have a dinner to get ready for."

***

The grounds designated for the refugee program are extensive and surprisingly well manicured. Desert plants and shrubs line the otherwise dusty walkways. Most of the buildings are a soothing tan color, made of smooth rocks that looked as if they had come directly from some of the landscapes we had passed on the train. Most of the buildings, part of the university that had shut down and the surrounding shops that were out of business, had been transformed into living spaces for refugees displaced by natural disaster or, in our case, the war.

"I wish we had different dresses for the dinner." Vencia tugs on her sleeves again as we walk at a brisk pace. It is cool here, but not as cold as it had been near Dalonige.

"We have some free time tomorrow morning. We can go to the market and buy groceries and a new outfit if you're so desperate."

"The market?"

"An open air market with vendors. It is set up every day from dawn to dusk."

"What if it rains?" Vencia frowns.