Phoenix Down by Brooke Hatchett

Author:Brooke Hatchett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Hunter House Publishing
Published: 2022-06-12T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T hat night we sleep at the edge of a copse, beneath the feathery branches of a tree I wish I knew the name of. I lie on my back on a bed of flattened grasses and listen to the wind breathe over the plains.

It took me hours to cool down after my conversation with Renaud. I’ve never been angry like that, like having a fire in me that burns and burns. I’ve seen customers who live that way, quick to yell and quicker to threaten never to return to the shop over the absence of their favorite lavender pomade. It’s always looked exhausting.

It was exhausting.

As Névé wanders off to graze, I make my way to Renaud. He’s resting on the lower branch of a neighboring tree, eyes shut, but I feel sure he’s awake.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

He cracks an eye open. For what?

I push at the ground with a toe. “For getting so angry.”

He opens both eyes to study me. I did not realize you felt your behavior was in need of forgiveness.

“I do.”

Then you are forgiven.

“Thank you.”

He dips his head, then squints at the branches above. I spoke knowing my words would make you uncomfortable. In exchange, I will allow you to ask me a question that will make me uncomfortable.

I balk. “That’s not necessary.”

The exchange is fair, Renaud says, nodding to himself and beginning to tidy his feathers. Ask your question.

“I really don’t need to—”

It is the proper way, Speaker.

My mouth opens to protest again, but I shut it. If this is how things are settled between First Beasts and Speakers, I best do it. I don’t want to ask him an uncomfortable question, though. He’s been kind to me when I deserve none of it. I stare at the ground, thinking.

“Why have you been so kind to me?” I ask finally.

That question does not make me uncomfortable. Ask another.

“What? Do I have to?”

Yes.

I sigh and think on a more uncomfortable topic. “Is the other phoenix Celia’s mother?”

No, he says, his feathers gone rigid in distaste. She is far too…what is that human word? The one when someone thinks overly much of their looks?

“Vain?”

Yes, he says, returning to preening. That is the one.

He hesitates, making me wonder if he’s going to add more, but he only fluffs his feathers and says, Rest now, Speaker. I have a feeling Névé will be ready to run tomorrow.

I offer a bow before retreating to my bed of grasses.

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