Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 4: Liars and Thieves

Isaac frowned. "You won't."

"I might," Camille said.

"Why?"

Camille's brown eyes were steady. "You know why."

Penny looked at her shoes. Everyone seemed fascinated by objects in the room: the chandelier, a golden sconce, the metronome on the piano... The air had the ripe tang of lemon and awkwardness. It was something they never discussed, Penny thought. An unspoken truth that none of them were willing to accept.

Penny thought about last week in Libertas. It had been a hot night — the sort of night where the bedsheets stuck to your skin — and she'd gone to the kitchens for a cool rag. She'd been soaking the cloth in water when a reflection flickered in the glass window. Penny had screamed and reached instinctively for a knife.

"It's just me," Camille had said.

She'd raised her hands. Even now, Penny remembered that they'd shaken slightly, which was what had calmed her. Lucia's hands had never shaken. Slowly, Penny had lowered the knife, her throat dry.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, her heart racing. "I didn't mean..."

Camille's face had been cloaked in shadow. "Don't apologize. Not for that."

Penny had never told any of the others about that night. As far as she knew, Camille hadn't, either. But she could feel Camille's eyes on her now, and a sense of shame flooded Penny, strong enough that she had to bite down on her cheek.

"This is ridiculous," Isaac said. "Just come with us."

Camille shook her head. "Let me stay behind."

He exhaled. "Cami—"

"Isaac," Camille said. "Please."

Isaac flexed his hands. There was a steely look in his eyes that Penny had seen before — usually just before he sunk his sword into its target — and he opened his mouth to speak when Ryne stepped forward.

"Let it go, Isaac," Ryne said. "We're losing time."

Isaac's mouth tightened. "I'll find you after."

He addressed his words to Camille, who nodded, her eyes on the piano. Isaac started for the double doors. He paused with his hand on the knob. His mouth was so thin, Penny thought, that it had practically disappeared.

"Brace yourselves," Isaac said.

He pushed open the door.

The smell hit Penny first. There was something stale and sour about it, like old socks in need of washing. People eyed them suspiciously. There must have been about fifty of them, Penny thought, all in torn clothing and rags, their bare feet leaving muddy prints on the tile. Some men held squalling babies. Several women sported large gashes, oozing blood and yellow pus. Children hid behind their parents' legs.

Penny squeezed her eyes shut.

Emotions assaulted her from every side. The sour taste of suspicion. The heavy, aching weight of sadness. And anger, so much anger, enough that it made her mouth taste of fresh blood. A warm hand touched her arm.

"Are you alright?" Grayson murmured.

Penny nodded, her stomach churning. Anna leaned closer to Isaac. "What happened to them?"

Isaac's face was grim. "Better to let them explain."

"Your Majesty." A middle-aged man in a torn green tunic limped forward. "We've come to beg asylum."

His eyes were on Ryne, but it was Anna that spoke.

"You're from Lucerna."

A hush fell over the room. Anna took a step forward. She was standing in front of the rest of them now, Penny thought, although whether she'd done that on purpose, it was difficult to say. Her blue eyes were the colour of winter skies.