Free Undraland by Mary Twomey

I’d had. I did my best to listen to my surroundings and gather information before I was forced to participate in whatever this new life was. I kept hearing a swish and then a bang. Sort of like darts, but harder.
    “So then what?” asked a female voice that sounded just a couple years more mature than mine.
    Jens answered, “Then I brought her here.”
    Another swish sounded. “Mine got closer than yours,” the woman bragged in an impish manner.
    “You’ve had more time to practice. This one keeps me on my toes. She’s a pistol, that’s for sure.”
    “Pretty, just like you described her. Doesn’t look like she’s seen the sun. And so short. Is she well off where she comes from?”
    “Nah. Humans are different, Britta. Most of them aren’t farmers. I told you that. Her skin’s normal for her kind.” Another swish. “Ho! I win.”
    “No! I was so close.”
    Jens stood and walked across the room. I heard his black boots heavy on the wood floor. I peeked with one eye as he jerked the knives they were using as darts out of the wall. My eye shut quickly before I gave myself away.
    “You think she’ll like me?” The girl’s voice wavered with insecurity. She sat on the edge of the… bed? I touched the sheet beneath me. Yup. I guessed correctly that I was laid out on a bed.
    Jens’s tone softened. “Of course she will. Who wouldn’t like you?” Their easy and tender back and forth threatened to melt my heart, so I put up a mental fight to recall the reasons I despised Jens.
    Britta scoffed. “You’re a sweet big brother. But you know I’m the leper around here.”
    “Maybe it’s because you play with knives,” he teased. “Nah, I’m kidding. Toms are backward. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sat back down on the chair next to his sister, and I peeked and saw him rocking it back to balance on the rear two legs. “How’s work going? Anyone giving you any trouble?”
    Britta’s answer sounded carefully selected. “It’s fine. Not many’ve been hanged lately. I’m glad you talked the palace into paying me annually, instead of by the hanging. The less I have to actually do my job, the more people start to forget about it. Much more time for gardening.”
    “I want you to be honest with me, Britt. If anyone’s giving you a hard time, tell me who. I’ll take care of it.”
    “Yes, well the last time you ‘took care of it’, I had to clean up after yet another hanging. I’m fine, as I always am.” There was a precious note of silence between them before Britta spoke in a quiet way that seemed to calm Jens’s arrogance. “You’ve never brought a girl home before.”
    Jens chuckled bitterly. “Well, this sure doesn’t count. She’s a job, not a girl. Don’t get attached to this one. And if I ever do bring a girl home, she’ll be conscious.”
    “And thanking her lucky stars, no doubt.” The third voice was new to the mix. The man was a few meters away. “When’d you get back, Tom?”
    Tom?
    Jens rose from his chair and slapped the newcomer in what sounded like a bear hug. “Not too long ago, Tom.” I peeked to see their prolonged embrace that went several seconds past the obligatory guy hug. They gripped each other in an unshakable way, as if breath was easier now that the other was around. It was a beautiful thing. A brothers by choice moment not often seen in nature.
    The man’s voice took on a reverence when he turned toward the girl. “Britta.”
    “Hello, Jamie.” I didn’t need my eyes open to sense the sexual tension between those two. Yikes.
    Jens paid it no mind and collapsed back into his chair. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
    “My father still hates you, so nothing new here.” His voice turned toward me, his excitement that of a boy on the eve of Christmas. “Oh! Is that her? The famous Lucy Kincaid?”
    “Shut up.” Jens sounded embarrassed.
    “I half-expected her to float or have sunbeams shooting out of her fingertips.”
    Jens shushed