Chapter 18
JosephThe sounds of home surrounded him. Marigold and Valerian were bickering. He could be any age: five, sixteen, or thirty-one. As he drifted into consciousness, it became apparent that Valerian wanted to do something that Marigold disapproved of.
“It’s fine. It’s clean,” Valerian said.
Something tickled his nose. A lot of somethings.
He moved his head to the side, desperate to make the ticking stop.
“It worked! Alternative sensation therapy saved him. You owe me an apology, Sunshower Marigold.”
“Mom, he was sleeping, not in a coma,” Mari said.
Joseph cracked open his eyes. His mother held a short wand wrapped with corded leather. One end was feathers. The other end was a flat leather paddle.
“Mom, that’s not a therapy tool,” he croaked, his voice dry and rasping. “Tha
