Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 8: Purgatory

Seraena hammered on the wooden door.

She shifted her weight. The blue bungalow looked like a kindly grandfather in the fading light; greyish-white sand dusted the roof, and the windows sagged like wrinkled eyes. Brown seashells speckled the walls like age spots. She'd been here a dozen times now, Seraena thought, but every time, she noticed something new: the dragon carved into the door handle; the creaky step; the wind chimes.

The door swung in.

A blonde woman stood in the door. Celeste Hillsbrook was holding a mortar and pestle, her cheeks flushed with the evening heat. She smelled of fresh herbs and perfume, and she wiped her hands hastily on a tea towel, smearing green paste.

"Your Radiance," Celeste said.

Seraena sighed. "Seraena. Please."

Celeste didn't correct herself. But at least she didn't curtsey, Seraena thought, which was a step in the right direction.

Seraena scanned the house. "Is Kane here?"

She already knew the answer. She'd spent the last hour combing the Grand Palace and the salt caves, the hot pools and the beaches. This house was the only option. Celeste nodded, gesturing with her pestle.

"He's outside in the garden," Celeste said. "Can I get you some iced tea?"

Seraena shook her head. "No. Thank-you."

"Biscuits?" Celeste asked.

"I'm alright."

Celeste looked distressed. She took to feeding her guests with the same graveness and sense of duty as a priest preparing a sermon. Still, Celeste must have decided that it wasn't worth pressing the issue tonight, because she waved Seraena toward a set of glass double doors. "Just through there."

Seraena pushed them open.

Kane stood in the middle of the garden. He was shirtless and flushed, his dark trousers slung low on his hipbones. Beads of sweat glimmered on his back. A dozen weapons glittered on the grass — scimitars and throwing stars and things that even Seraena didn't recognize — and he bent down, weighing a broadsword in his hands.

"Oh, good," Kane said. "Do you think a knife or a broadsword would be better for a beginner?" He swung the sword experimentally. "A knife is easier than a broadsword, but the odds of close combat are so slim that a new recruit is very unlikely to—" He broke off, catching sight of her expression. "What is it?"

Seraena kicked a stone.

The grey rock flew, smacking into a lopsided tree. Her anger reignited like a sputtering flame finding new oxygen. She could feel sparks dancing along her skin, feel her chest swelling with indignation. Kane lowered the sword.

"Raena." He looked alarmed. "What happened?"

Her throat felt tight. "They're forcing me to abdicate."

Kane stared. "What?"

"They're taking my throne." Seraena could barely get the words out. "The council's lost faith in me. They're issuing a vote of no confidence."

Kane shook his head. "That's impossible."

"Apparently not." Seraena kicked another rock. "I knew I should have replaced half the council with women. Wait, Makenna told me." She screwed up her face, imitating her cousin's voice. "Don't poke sleeping dragons yet, Raena. The world isn't ready. But look what's happened." She flung out a hand. "The whole thing is elitist, patriarchal dragonshit, and now I'll have to marry some stranger just to—"