Wives, Not Ornaments
His palm brushed across his forehead, clearing the dampness. A slow breath followed as he squinted ahead. Heat clung to his skin like a second layer. Dust swirled just above the cracked ground. The sun held its place, fixed and heavy in the sky.
Faint lines curled at one corner of the mouth.
"What else would I be doing? Except training in the morning."
Ronan chuckled softly.
"As expected."
A slight tilt came to Leon's head. He moved it just a bit to one side.
"What do you think, Lord Ronan, about my sword practice?"
A crack ran through the stone Ronan looked at. It held his attention without a word spoken.
The embedded blade.
Leon's trembling hands.
Then smiled.
"I think you're insane."
Leon snorted. "Fair."
For a short while, they just stayed there without speaking. Quiet filled the space between them.
A soft sound came from the spring close by.
Leaves whispered.
Birds chirped.
A peaceful place.
