Dllyx remembers Mithodroxes: an excerpt from To Bury Their Parents

Dllyx sat in Mithodroxes’ old chair, a thing of wicker and neglect. It had been a decade since the shadow of that woman had fallen in these apartments, across this space, over Starfall.

The apartment was as empty now as it had been then. A rough bed of straw now long-rotted, this wicker chair, plain stone walls not even smoothed or dressed. The woman had lived rough even here. She might have eaten the choicest dates and tasted rare wine, eaten honeyed bread, had the best-trained lovers, but she had eschewed all of that to preserve her sight.

I have the whole kingdom, Dllyx thought now. Everything Mithodroxes turned her back on, denied herself, all of it is mine. In a story, all of that would bring her no pleasure. But in point of fact it all brought her a great deal of pleasure. As did the knowledge that all her scheming had brought her to this place where she had no need of courage or schemes or cleverness, where she could be as blunt as her father's scepter.

The apartment started to darken as evening crept along outside, so she went to stand on the balcony and watch the gods emerge in the night sky. Did Mithodroxes see through their eyes? She had predicted the manner of Dllyx' ascension, had told her as much, and it had landed in her ears like a threat. She had hated Mithodroxes as an enemy. It was still hard to work up much love for the woman but she was long gone, perhaps long-dead.

A guard passed by near Dllyx on her balcony, and she called down to her. "Guard? Arrange in the morning for these apartments to be torn down brick by brick, and each brick smashed and ground into powder. Have the powder scattered handful by handful into the sands of the Yellow Sea."

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