Chapter 19 Olivia #2
“Hopefully, we’re not trespassing. This grove was clearly created intentionally.” I stood, swiping my dirty fingertips on my pants to clean them off a bit. Though as an herbalist, I didn’t mind a little dirt under my fingernails, most people did.
“We have free rein of the island for the duration of our stay.”
“That doesn’t mean this isn’t someone’s backyard.” I glanced around, spotting a small cottage on a nearby hill. As I watched, a female centaur galloped over the crest, coming right toward us.
“You may be right.” Elodie dropped her hand from the sword, but her pose remained stiff, ready.
The centaur galloped to the edge of the grove, sliding to a stop with impressive agility.
She was older than the other centaurs we’d seen so far, but still insanely fit.
The graying hair pulled into a bun behind her head was the only sign I could see that she was older.
Her abs were still a six-pack, and when she crossed her arms over her chest, her biceps were clearly defined, straining against the leather arm cuff she wore.
“May I help you? I was aware we had visitors from the mainland, but I didn’t realize any would wander this far from the island’s center. ”
“Hi, umm, I hope we’re not bothering you.
We went on a walk, looking for some medicinal herbs.
One of our…” I decided to be as honest as I could without potentially leaking that it was Lucien who had the issue.
I wouldn’t want to expose his weakness to his competitor.
“One of our party has a wound that’s giving him some pain, and I’m the pack herbalist.”
She nodded, considering me, astute gaze landing quickly on my dirty fingernails. “I see. Well, you’ve stumbled upon the right place. The mastic tree sap is excellent for pain.” She gestured to the grove, and I nodded. I’d sensed something from the trees, yes, but not quite what I was looking for.
“Sap collection takes time I’m afraid we won’t have before we leave the island. Also, I wouldn’t presume to tap your trees without permission.”
“Good woman. But you’re in luck. If you don’t mind a bit more hiking, I’ve got some left from last season’s collection I’d be happy to part with.”
“Oh! Thank you. We don’t mind, right, Elodie?”
“Not at all. We appreciate you sharing with us.”
“Well, then, come along.” She turned and galloped off, not waiting for us to catch her.
We broke into a jog, trying not to be rude when she’d so kindly offered her help despite us wandering into her grove uninvited.
I was breathing hard by the time we crested the hill and got a closer look at the little cottage.
It was tidy and cleanly kept, nestled into a small copse of scrubby trees.
But most importantly—to me, at least—a vast, fenced garden surrounded it, having no trouble with the patchy shade cast by the trees.
And my senses were pinging with the medicinal herbs tucked all around it.
The centaur waited at the gate, propping it open with her horse hip.
“Sorry for making you wait. I’m not quite as speedy as you are.”
She snorted. “I’d wager you’re not, in this form. Is it true that wolves lose their clothes if they shift?”
Elodie jumped in to answer her, holding the gate and waving me inside as she did so. “They don’t disappear, but we do bust a lot of seams. What’s your name, by the way?”
There was a pause.
“Flantiera. I hear you met my children today. The twins.” Her back was turned when she answered, and I was thankful, because I blanched at the news that our good Samaritan was, in fact, the mother of the two champions.
One of whom was battling my mate this evening.
Shit.
“We did. That’s pretty impressive that they’re the two champions, both from the same family. You must be proud.” Elodie kept the conversation going smoothly, giving me a much-needed moment to recover as we strolled down the garden path.
“Fighting is not the life I wanted for them. I named them after myself, but still they took after their father’s interests. Warring and whoring were the only two things that got that man out of bed.” She shook her head, whether from sadness or distaste, I couldn’t tell.
Between one step and the next, I froze, turning toward the garden. It was like falling into a trance, though there was no hypnotist swaying a pocket watch in front of me. Nothing but a garden and a plant singing to me like sirens in the stories of old.
I veered off the path without thought, following the plant’s song, willing to dash myself on the rocks of propriety if there was something in this garden that could help Lucien survive the night.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go far to see a little crooked weed, protruding from the cracks of a block garden border.
Merry yellow blooms, conical in shape, with reddish-orange tips, shone up at me like little suns, drawing me in without hesitation.
I knelt down, letting my fingertips linger over the blooms.
Spilanthes acmella, AKA the electric daisy.
I didn’t know why, I didn’t know how, but I knew what it was and that I needed it. It took me blinking several times to clear the haze from my vision and realize I was no longer alone.
“Interesting choice. Were you planning on telling me you were mágissa? That would have made things much simpler.” Flantiera stood less than a foot away, her large hooves leaving indents in the soft mulch walkway I knelt on.
She could crush me with one of those hooves, and I didn’t think it would be difficult. But instead, she observed, eyebrows arched and arms once again crossed.
“I have no idea what that means,” I finally said.
“Your people don’t know about mágisses? Interesting. Well, grab that up—with the roots—and follow me. I’ll tell you while we work.”
My shoulders slumped with relief as she turned and wandered toward the front door of the cottage, not offended that I’d been on the verge of helping myself to her plants.
Though, admittedly, the way this one was sprouting helter-skelter didn’t appear to be intentional. Perhaps she considered it a weed. Elodie waited silently as I carefully dug out the whole plant, teasing as many roots as I could from between the block cracks.
When I straightened, carefully cradling the plant in my hands, she spoke. “So, care to tell me what just happened?”
There it was: the other shoe. How did I explain it without sounding crazy or pathetic? “I have… extra talents with plants.”
“Clearly. What is that?” She pointed skeptically to the sunny little weed.
“Spilanthes acmella. It’s been used for centuries for pain.”
She snorted, giving me side-eye. “Yeah, that was a mouthful I’m not going to remember.”
“Fair enough. It’s also called the electric daisy or a toothache plant. It’s not native to Greece, so I’m not really sure how it ended up here, growing through the cracks.”
“The intrigue deepens. But I’m sure Flantiera knows. It’s her garden, after all.”
“True,” I murmured, my mind already wandering from the conversation and on to how to prepare both mastic and electric daisy for pain in a way that was usable within a few hours.
Flantiera had left the front door open, waiting for us.
After I stepped inside, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but as they did, lovely details began to fill in all around us.
An enormous chair sat in a corner surrounded by bookshelves, and even from the door, I could see they were well loved and often used, a range of gardening manuals and herbalist tomes.
If I had any spare time, I’d love to spend it poking through those books.
The overhead lighting was electric but simple, blending unobtrusively into the cottage’s woodsy, earthy feel.
We walked through a dining room with a table clearly meant for centaurs to stand around, decorated only with wreaths and horseshoe art.
After that, we found the kitchen, where Flantiera waited, various herbalists’ tools scattered over the clean countertop.
Open shelves lined the wall above it, polished wood with neatly labeled glass jars full of various ingredients tidily arranged on top.
“Give that a gentle wash, and we’ll get started.”
It felt like being an apprentice again, but I didn’t argue as I crossed to the sink and carefully rinsed the dirt from my prize.
Flantiera gestured to a cutting board and then began preparing the herb without waiting for my permission. Fair, given it was hers. I watched carefully as she first chopped it, then added only certain parts to a large stone mortar.
“Our island hasn’t been blessed by a visit from a mágissa in a long time.
But here you are, and with no idea what you are.
I suppose it’s not too surprising, as it’s old Greek lore.
But in English, it’s like a witch or sorceress.
But mágisses are always gifted with plants, as you are.
They come in every species—including human, for the record.
They have green witches with similar talents.
But the centaurs haven’t had one among us in decades, at least.”
As I watched her expert preparation, dropping a crystal of mastic into the mortar as well as at least three other herbs from her jars, I wasn’t sure about that statement.
“You seem more than talented enough for the title,” I said, picking up several tricks just by watching her work.
She laughed, the sound a bit horsey on the back end, ironically.
“I appreciate the compliment, but no. This is a normal skill honed over a long life full of menial labor. You have something innate, something I don’t possess.
” She reached into an unlabeled jar and pulled out something dried.
She made an impatient gesture for me to hold out my hand, then dropped the plant into my waiting palm. “What is that?”
“There’s no label on the jar…?” I asked, feeling obtuse. Did she expect me to identify it purely by looking at the shriveled bit of green? Many plants appeared similar when dehydrated and chopped.