Girl of Flower and Flame

Chapter Eight

"If you two don't move faster, we'll be out here all morning." Liliana Bruma awakened Eulalia from her trance, the remains of her daydream fading into darkness.

Hollowness took its place.

"Excuse me, Princess," said Tolan, "but you're not the one carrying a hundred pounds on your shoulder." His fingers bore into Eulalia's thighs, a grip so firm there wasn't a chance she'd escape them.

Liliana scoffed. "Please, is that what you call heavy weight? I could carry her with my pinkie."

"Then be my guest."

"I reckon she doesn't want to get her dainty hands dirty," said the other one, whose howl had replayed like Madam's piano records in Eulalia's mind, chilling her to the bone.

Goose bumps rose on her arms, like the bumpy stems of Orla's vegetables. Orla. Eulalia shut her eyes, wringing out a tear.

"My hands will be around your neck, Cillian, if you don't stop talking."

"All right. All right, no need to get your panties in a twist."

"I think she's worried about her brother," said Tolan. "Right, Princess?"

"The prince," Cillian snarled, his contemptuous tone much like Madam's when she spoke of Mother Anna at the orphanage. "In my opinion, he takes himself too seriously," he said.

"No one asked for your opinion," said Liliana. "My brother has his own way of doing things that someone with your wits wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's saying you're stupid, dummy." Tolan snickered.

"I'm smart enough to know that he won't get what he wants if he keeps being so naive," Cillian said. "Just say the word, Princess, and his pretty dark hair won't be pretty anymore."

"Andris doesn't have time for either of you."

"No, he's too busy having everyone's cheeks kissed. No one ever told him that's not how you win a war."

"And the closest you've ever come to war, Cillian, is picking fights with degenerates in pubs so I don't think my brother needs your advice."

"Well, at least I've gotten my hands bloody."

Tolan laughed. "I wouldn't waste my breath trying to get her going against her own brother, pal. But you have to admit, Liliana, Andris is making things worse for himself. Sooner or later, he's going to find one of those hands he's kissed around his own neck."

"And Laurent, the moron, won't be licking his boots any longer. I swear, between the two of them, they'll have Mondegreen at the bottom of Susurrus Sea." Cillian cracked his knuckles. "I hate soft men."

"Where are we going?" Eulalia's voice was a harsh whisper. Her throat was so dry it burned.

They'd been slogging through the soused woods for almost an hour, and she thought they should have already come to the place they were taking her. Tolan's boots left footprints in the ground she could hardly make out. She blinked away the last of her tears and licked her cracked lips, tasting her misery. When the sun rose on the moors, she wouldn't be there.

She asked again, "Where are you taking me?"

None of them spoke.

Eulalia turned her head the best she could to see their surroundings, but the ancient tree barks didn't give much away, neither did the brambles, though she swore one had shuddered to relieve itself of the rain. Her grief had driven her mad too.

It was too dark to see much of anything. Tolan and Liliana were silent now, trekking through the woods with foot-sure steps. The dark didn't faze their eyes. They showed no interest in answering her, rousing the underbrush as they journeyed to the edge of the woods. Silence hung between them so hushed Eulalia might've heard the birds snoring in their nests. She gave up trying to see and hung limp down Tolan's back, body aching, and without a thought that might comfort her.