THE FLOWER CHILDREN

Chapter 27

TRAINING was coming to a close, and it was showing.

Dara and Osoric were pushing them harder than ever, and Asmeen could barely drag herself out of bed nowadays. The only thing keeping her going was the fact that this would all be over soon. She repeated it to herself all the time.

Even Wylla's returned optimism had drained—again—leaving a ghost of her sister. In a strange twist of events, now it was Elyn motivating them, in her own way. Just a few days ago, she'd literally pulled Wylla off of the bed, straight onto the floor. Wylla hadn't talked to her for the entire day after that.

The stress was showing on Aven as well, and though they never ended up arguing as severely as they had before, it would be a lie to say they didn't snap at each other every now and then. It was still better than what Asmeen had hoped for.

All in all, she was desperately wishing for training to just finish. She thought that she'd be too tired by the end to care whether or not she'd made it into the Flower Children. It didn't help that she kept seeing Aira around town, or supervising training, and was reminded of her offer.

The day before's training had included something new—they'd had to write new incantations for different types of rituals, because sometimes Flower Children, and Children of the Night were expected to do that.

Asmeen...hadn't done well. As good as she was at sewing, she was exactly that bad at writing. Aven had done fine, though. Probably because he read so much. She'd been annoyed with him, because though she understood him not helping her that much, he could have told her a suitable word that rhymed with rosemary.

What made her mood considerably sourer in the morning was the fact that it was her mother's death anniversary.

It had been nearly ten years since the day, but Asmeen didn't think it would ever stop hurting. She barely remembered her mother, but the little she did remember ached every time.

Wylla and Elyn knew this, so despite the flurry in the morning to get to training, they were gentle with her. Asmeen appreciated it, she really did. Even Azol didn't say anything when he saw them in the morning.

Azol was probably up so early because he wanted to get away from her father when he woke up. Asmeen couldn't blame him. Every year, her father locked himself in his study and essentially sulked the whole morning. The one year they'd tried to approach him and get him to come out of the room, he'd shouted...some things Asmeen would prefer not to think about.

After that, they left him alone. By late afternoon he was mostly alright, if a little irritable. Asmeen tried to steer clear of him, even though she knew it was wrong, that they should share the grief together. But she knew she reminded him of her mother, and it was a bit of a disappointing reminder, especially with the current situation.

Because of that, they got out of the house as fast as they could, while her father was still locked in his study. And made their way to training.

Asmeen had refused Elyn's offer to buy her sewing materials for now, so when they reached the field early, they didn't have much to do. Elyn sat down and, presumably, began dozing. None of them had been sleeping much lately.

Asmeen closed her eyes as well, trying to think about her mother, even though it hurt, because as the years passed her memories of her mother faded even more, and she cursed her memory.

She barely remembered her—Asmeen even resembled her father. She could see none of her mother's features on herself. She'd only seen one portrait of her, hung up in her father's study, where Asmeen was barely permitted to enter.

But she remembered that her mother was kind, and always made time for her. Her father was better, she thought, when her mother was around. Less angry all the time. When Azol had come, it had abated, but only to a certain extent. Luckily, then, Elyn and Wylla were with her to take some of his ire and sympathize.