The next three days flew by in an intoxicating blur. I spent every waking moment I could with Asmodeus, making excuse after excuse to Father so I might slip away from my duty at the shoppe. It is wrong for me to lie to him, no matter the reason, yet I fear he will soon demand answers to questions which never seemed to make themselves known when I am with Asmodeus.

I cannot tell Father where the man lives nor what he does in life to rub two coins together. I could not rightly say if he was Lord, serf, or roaming outlaw. His title, if he bears one is as enigmatic as his surname. When I look into his eyes, these mundane details are cast aside as our conversation wraps its coils about nature's unfailing beauty and on the flip-side; human nature. Art. Writing which feeds our eyes and souls. Dreams. He wants to know everything about me.

I should have known such whirlwinds eventually calm and we must bow our heads to the tasks which life places at our feet. I was somewhat reluctant in my pew however. "Bryony. The herb garden misses you something fierce. Do you think you could spare some time to weed and water it?" I looked up from the breakfast I was picking at, blinking and caught wondering if Asmodeus would find me fetching in soft, sweetheart rose. I could sew a little. "Today? But but .. but I was hoping to harvest a few more valerian before they wither up for the season."

Father chuckled at my crestfallen expression and laid a patting hand upon my shoulder. "I thought you would give me guff, daughter mine, so I asked Alistar to help. He will be here any moment. You have just enough time to fix your hair." My hand hurried to the offending cap of fire atop my head, sinking in the soft waves before I swept it back in gentle taming from my brow and cheeks. "What is wrong with my hair?" He only chuckled, looking very smug for a man who was sick and dying a few days ago.

I missed his meaning. I can tell these things. It is a gift.

Fathers. Men! And worst of all boys! I was stuck with Alistar who loves peppering me with questions. Does my hair get darker when the weather gets chilly and the sun hides most days? Do pull the weed then twist out the clinging root or the other way 'round? Do I mind eating outside? Am I more of a mind to savor sweet or was I a fan of sour foods? And on and on.

The neglected garden was a living weed. It took us hours to finish and when Alistar finally left, dusk was in full bloom, casting a somber glow over the horizon. I hadn't been able to visit Asmodeus and I moped all eve, aching for the morning to come so I could dash off and reunite with him. And when dawn broke over a sleepy Carver's Outpost, I was out the door before the sun had a chance to burn off the morning mist.

Yet, I did not get but one footstep beyond the first saplings before something slithered about my ankle and I was yanked feet first into the air, hanging me there .. upside down and without wings.

[0 petals fell]