Page 19 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

In the afternoon,with insects buzzing and starwings fluttering across our path without a thought about blue dragons, it was difficult to remember our days were numbered. And I wondered if the people around me were giving it much thought either.

Bain and Dower teased each other constantly, breaking into laughter at almost regular intervals. I never heard them debating other things they’d rather be doing with their last days. Nor did they discuss their missing brother. They did sober, however, each time Tearloch gave an order, but they followed those orders without question.

They were definitely handsome, and if it weren’t for the obvious difference in age—Dower being both taller and younger than Bain—they might have been mistaken for twins. But their personalities were markedly different, especially where I was concerned.

Bain was kind and smiled genially whenever our eyes met. Dower, on the other hand, didn’t like me in the least. My hunger for his oldest brother’s head probably had something to do with it. But if he saw me as a threat, his brother did not. Either Bain had little faith that his brother could be saved, or he had little faith in my ability to draw blood.

Only time would tell.

As always, Sweetie strode down the road at Tearloch’s side, like a second in command. Those two laughed now and then, but not with the abandon of the younger two. And they were comfortable lumbering on for miles without a word between them.

Minkin and I were sandwiched in between, and I suspected Minkin would maintain that same position whether or not I was there. A sister figure protected by a vanguard and a rear guard who were always watchful, always aware of strangers entering and exiting the road.

And Minkin liked flowers.

Each time we happened to pass a cluster of blossoms within twenty yards of the road, Sweetie would stop, often mid-conversation with Tearloch, to pick a handful of stems. He’d deliver them to Minkin, and without even glancing at her, return to Tearloch’s side to resume their conversation. After the third such gift in the span of an hour, she had trouble holding them all, and after Sweetie hurried away, she offered some to me.

I dutifully held them to my nose, enjoyed the cheerful yellows and blues, but I couldn’t bring myself to weave every little blossom into my hair like Minkin did. After a while, when the smallest of my flowers began to wilt, I chose the sturdiest stem to tuck behind my ear and tossed the rest to the side of the road.

When we stopped to rest, I noticed a patch of purple blossoms I couldn’t name. The two brothers lounged so close they bumped them with their elbows. And yet, neither of them thought to gather a few for Minkin. It was then I realized the significance…

Only Sweetie brought her flowers.

Once we were all refreshed, we returned to the road and I studied Sweetie more closely. It kept me entertained and distracted me from the sun beating down on my head and trying to penetrate through my white clothing.

He and Tearloch chatted away, though I understood so little of their conversations, I stopped trying to listen. Every now and again, the big man would stretch his arms and shoulders, then rotate his head just enough to check on Minkin. The first few times I witnessed it, I assumed he worried about her short legs keeping pace with the rest of us. Then I realizedhe enjoyed looking at her.

The miniature woman with the unique hair didn't seem to notice how often this happened. But when he caught her eye, she gave him a quick smile. Never complaining, never slowing, never asking for a moment to rest, even though she had to take two steps to every one of ours. Her chin maintained a proud tilt, and her mind appeared to be as busy as her feet. Demius would have called her a ball of raw Hestian energy.

Just as notable as Sweetie’s interest was Tearloch’s disinterest. His attention was on the road and its occupants, and when he did turn to look behind him, he always looked over his left shoulder, not his right, purposefully refusing to notice us. Or maybe it was just me he fought to ignore.

When I realized his game, I couldn't help but torture him by ducking off the path for a minute or two, walking parallel to the road but just out of sight. Each time Sweetie glanced behind him, using one reason or another, I would be in a different place or missing altogether. In the beginning, he seemed confused. Then, after a glance and a murmur from his friend, he struggled to hide his smile. The next time Sweetie glanced back, he sent me a wink.

Next, I moved up behind Tearloch, so close I hoped he could feel me there, or at the very least, hear my footsteps. Sweetie made no pretense for glancing back this time, then he laughed aloud at the road ahead.

"What's wrong with you?" Tearloch growled.

"Not a thing," the big man answered.

After a moment, Tearloch lowered his voice and said, "She's right behind me, isn't she?"

Sweetie just laughed. Tearloch finally stopped and turned to confront me, but I'd slipped to the back of the pack again with my head turned while I appreciated the low purple hills in the distance.

The brothers stopped short, as did we all. Bain held up his hands. "Are we stopping?"

Tearloch growled like an animal, gave Sweetie a withering look, then barked, “Yes. We're stopping. I hear water. Find it. I don't intend to walk into the city already in need. Fill every horn.” He removed his own and tossed it to Dower. To Sweetie, he added, “If you don’t gather your wits, I’ll fill your horns as well.” Then, to no one in particular, “My mood has soured. I need food,” as he marched off into the bushes.

Minkin turned and blinked at me. "Why?"

I blinked back, not understanding.

"Why torture the man?"

I shrugged. "Boredom?"

She chided me with a wag of her head. "Find other amusement."

The brothers nodded in agreement.

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