Thread of Darkness

Ch. 37: my name is Kane Hillsbrook

Seraena had no idea what she was doing here.

She looked up at the pale blue bungalow, decorated with cheerful seashells and a weathervane in the shape of a dragon. She had never been to the infirmary before; healers always came to the palace. And Seraena had never been injured, except for the time that Kyllini had flown into a tree and she'd lied and claimed to have been cliff-jumping.

But she was here now.

Seraena raised her fist to the door, and then hesitated. Stars. This was a terrible idea. Why was she doing this again?

Oh, yeah.

Flint.

She grimaced. Ever since their argument, she hadn't been able to get him off her mind; if she was being honest with herself, what he had said to her in the hot pools stung. I kiss a lot of girls. I'm sorry if you thought you were special.

Well.

It was throwing her concentration. And if there was one thing she wouldn't allow, Seraena thought, squaring her shoulders, it was losing the Grand Race because a boy distracted her. Her Uncle Arlo would be turning over in his grave.

She wrapped on the door.

It swung inwards. An attractive middle-aged woman stood on the threshold, wearing an apron stained with green liquid. Greying blonde hair fell out of a knot, curling around her face. Celeste, Seraena recalled, Flint's mother; she had seen her flitting around the healers' tent at races.

"Your Ladyship," Celeste said. "To what do I owe the honour?"

She winced. "Call me Seraena. Please. Is Flint in?"

"No. He went flying this afternoon." Celeste leaned against the doorframe. "Why? Was there a change in scheduling?"

Oh, gods. Celeste thought she was here on official palace business, didn't she? Heat flooded her cheeks. "Oh, no. No. The race is still happening tomorrow. I was just..." Seraena could have happily sunk into the earth. "I mean, I was hoping to speak with him."

"Oh." Surprise flitted across Celeste's face. "I thought—"

Heavy footsteps sounded. "Who is it, darling?"

A middle-aged blond man appeared, wiping his wet hands on a towel. He was shorter and stockier than Flint, but there was no mistaking those cornflower blue eyes. This had to be Flint's father.

"Ah." The man brightened. "You must be the pretty girl that Flint has been brooding over." He stuck out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

Celeste smacked it away. "Dorian!"

"What? It's true."

Dorian winked, and Seraena hid a smile.

"Please ignore my husband." Celeste looked exasperated. "I know that I do." Her eyes darted to the sky. "Flint should be landing at the Salt Caves soon; I saw him fly in that direction about ten minutes ago. You should be able to catch him."

Seraena smiled. "Thank-you."

She turned to go, and she made it halfway down the steps when Celeste called out.

"Seraena?" She paused. Celeste bit her lip. "Don't be too hard on him. My son can be..." She paused. "Difficult, but he means well. And he hasn't had the easiest time of it."

A lump rose in her throat. Seraena thought about what Flint had told her in the hot pools, about his older brother that died. Did Celeste still mourn her son? She must. That was the sort of pain that never left you; the kind that gnawed at your bones.