Page 6 of The Kingdom of Flames

“Grouped in threes…” she whispered, staring at the procession. Calendar had seemed a faraway thing once, and now it was going to be her very future.

Red, Blue, and Yellow for Summer.

Amber, Brown, and Gold for Autumn

Green, Brass, and Scarlet for Spring

White, Silver, and Black for Winter.

The attendant captain of the procession came to her and spoke from behind his mirrored mask.

“Now begins the Tithing,” his voice was calm, shadowed. There was a tone of ritual here. Celestine wondered how many times he had carted maidens of age to Calendar? She could not see eyes nor a face behind his mirrored mask. Only black cloth. It was said the attendants of the Painted Court wore mirrors to reflect whichever lord they spoke to so as to honor them. Or to not cause their fury.

Lord Mirrortower did not bow, not this year. Her father’s deep resentment kept his back straight. It was the only time she had seen him be anything but deferential to the Mirrored.

“Here is our tithe for your grand court.”

The Mirrored Captain gazed at her.

“You will serve the Seasons?”

Celestine’s heart hammered. Nausea crept into her gullet. Her life was here, in the Painted Realm. How could she leave them to bear calamity alone?

Now, I stray from them, alone at last. Who am I? What reflects upon that mirrored mask? Even I do not know. Just fear.

“I will serve.”

“So be it,” the Captain of Calendar nodded. If he was surprised, impressed, or dismayed, he showed nothing. Celestine felt it would not have mattered whether it was a thousand or one woman.

The shadowy voice bade her, “Choose your hopeful carriage.”

“I am Unbannered and seek no favor from one Season or another,” Celestine said. She was shaking. But she spoke on, “I will ride the carriage of the Painted Realm of my people.”

Lord Mirrortower raised his hand, and the Captain turned towards the plain wooden carriage

“As you wish,” the Captain spoke. “You will not need provisions.”

She turned to her father, hugging him tightly.

“A year,” her father spoke. “I will come for you in a year.”

“Don’t,” Celestine whispered. “Even if you find it, they’ll kill you.”

Her father hugged her tighter. “They already have.”

Celestine broke from her father and turned towards the carriage. The guilt of leaving him alone felt like a stone in her heart. She took a step towards the carriage, towards Calendar. If death awaited, or a depraved end, she hoped she would die with her nails in the face of her slayer.

I finally have my own life, and I am about to cast it like an offering onto an altar of death.

She stepped into the carriage, before the dizziness that invaded her senses caused her to collapse. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

The Captain of the Mirrored Guard shut the carriage door and climbed slowly into the driver’s seat. He signaled to the men or women at arms under his command—it was impossible to tell. The other carriages left, empty of passengers.

When the wheels turned, carrying her away from home, she let out a choked sob. It wasn’t a carriage, it was a cage. A plate, delivering a morsel of food. No one came back from Calendar, and if they did they never spoke or smiled again. The need to turn around, to stay home and weep in her fathers arms was overwhelming.

But above all things she was a woman, and she stuffed the urge down. With a clenched fist she rocked back and forth, refusing to let her tears flow, refusing to show any fear to her people as she left them in the final Tithing.

The Captain steered the vehicle, he stared straight ahead, driving the team of horses in silence.

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