Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
The door abruptly swung open, crashing into the wall once. Myral glanced up. Fathen held the door in place with one hand. The other he’d pressed over his heart as he stared at her with wide-eyed shock.
Myral sighed. Not again.
Stepping forward, Fathen dragged through the movement with deliberate distress. Predictibly, he stopped midstride to pose and throw his hand to his forehead. “My guiding star.” He extended his hand, fingers lightly curled toward her. “My greatest betrayer.”
“Save your dramatics for the stage.” Myral leaned back over her worktable, examining the gems scattered before her. She didn’t have time for his posturing again.
“But… but… Sister!” His boots clomped their heavy pace across the floor. “I cannot believe my own kin would thusly abuse me!” His hands plopped heavily on the table’s edge across from her. He slumped morosely over and sobbed once.
“Abused?” Myral scoffed. “Not refusing Lord Hawtrey to craft your latest bauble is not abuse.”
Huffing, Fathen looked to her dramatically.
“No.”
“But I provide the bulk of your work!” He dragged a chair noisily across from her and plopped down harrumphing.
Myral huffed. “Because you sulk when I take other orders.” She held up a finger mirroring her brother’s movement and silencing his protest. “But I am not daft enough to refuse an Emerald Lord’s commission.”
“But–”
“No.” She glowered in the face of his pout. She wouldn’t cave. Not this time. He could find someone else to craft his whims.
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