Twelve - Mina
Twelve
Mina
???
It took conscious effort not to skip as I made my way into the village square. Sam, walking at my side, kept giving me odd looks.
Finally, when we neared the village hall, he stopped. “You seem extra happy this morning. Do you have something exciting planned with the girls?”
“No plans today,” I answered, almost honestly. I had no plans with my new friends. And technically, my plans weren’t for the day, but this evening. “I’m wandering and seeing who needs help with what. But it is a lovely day.”
“It is. I hope it is this nice on Midsummer Day.”
“Oh yes. I’m looking forward to the festival. I’m so glad my visit ends after the holiday.” The reminder that I was only in Skorsa for a couple more weeks dimmed my mood slightly. “I’m going to miss the village.”
Sam looked around, then lowered his voice. “Have you decided if you’ll tell everyone the truth before you leave?”
Sam and I had spoken about this before. I had admitted that I hated the idea of walking away from the friendships I was forming, but didn’t want to continue them under false pretenses indefinitely, either. The problem, however, was that there was no guarantee those friendships would remain once I admitted my identity. Not in their current forms, at least.
Gemma, I thought I could maintain a genuine friendship with, even after she learned I was the crown princess. But did I want someone like Kayla to learn my identity? Though she wasn’t the person who concerned me now.
It felt like a lump of coal settled in my stomach as I remembered joking with Alan last night, convincing him that my charm was nothing more than a pretty crystal. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to admit the truth to him, not when he looked at me and saw Mina, not Princess Charmina.
After he had kissed me, I had forgotten that earlier guilt. But it surged back now, stronger than before. Affenala save me, I would have to tell him the truth eventually. How would he react?
I should have told him last night. I should tell him tonight. But I knew I wouldn’t. Not when the charm had given me exactly what I wanted, a chance to see what people thought of me . I hadn’t intended to go around kissing people while wearing the charm, but I couldn’t regret kissing Alan. I couldn’t deny that his kiss had affected me more strongly than any other of my life.
Part of that was him.
But part was knowing that he didn’t see my crown when he looked at me. I wanted that. Especially with Alan.
I would save the revelation of my identity for closer to my departure. After we got to know each other better.
“I want to tell some people,” I answered Sam after a delay that had caused the corners of his lips to turn down. “But I haven’t decided if I want to tell everyone.”
“Be careful with that. It is a heavy secret to bear if you only tell a select few.”
“That’s why I haven’t made up my mind. Don’t worry, at the very least, if I tell Gemma, I will tell Cole so that she doesn’t have to hide it from him. And I’ll ask her if she is comfortable with Kayla and Hannah not knowing. If she isn’t, I would tell them, too. And probably everyone, at that point. But I might choose to tell everyone, regardless. Someone is bound to come to the ball and recognize me.”
For the first time, the thought of that ball, where every eligible commoner would be welcome, filled me with dread. I had never particularly looked forward to the ball, but I had understood its purpose. I had respected that it would be the last chance to meet people before I selected my consort. A choice that would be made with a disinterested heart and an eye toward contentment and the good of the kingdom.
My heart was anything but disinterested at present.
I swallowed as that truth rolled over me.
“You’re going to be late.” I stepped away from Sam and his insightful gaze. “I’ll see you later.”
Spinning around, I headed toward the fountain in the center of the square. A splash of water on my cheeks wouldn’t make everything work out like in a fairy tale, but it couldn’t hurt.
???
“Mistress Penniwell,” I hurried from the tavern, where I had helped prepare the noon meal, to the widow’s side. “Would you like me to hold your basket while you shop?”
Her grandson, an energetic child with brown-black hair that fell over his eyes, currently held the basket. He was already shifting from foot to foot, barely able to stay at his grandmother’s side rather than racing ahead. No doubt Master Penniwell had sent the boy because he wanted to help his mother, but the child would probably prefer the far more physical chores on the family’s farm to standing in the general store while the widow slowly made her selections.
In fact, Jack didn’t even wait for his grandmother to respond. He thrust the basket toward me. “Thank you, Miss Devale!”
I accepted it, and he scampered off.
Mistress Penniwell watched him go with a shake of her head. “Children are always so impatient.”
“Luckily, I am happy to help. What are you shopping for today?”
I entered the general store with Mistress Penniwell and chatted with her as she selected her purchases. Gemma had told me before that the widow always bought the same things, but it took her considerable time to do so. She liked to look at every item in stock. The store wasn’t so large that even that should take too long, but she also wanted to talk. Every person who came into the store was roped into a long conversation with the widow.
Eventually, her basket was full, and she made her way to the front counter.
“You are out of lavender soap,” she informed Master Kiels as he totaled her purchases.
“Yes, my supplier in Haiwella raised their prices again. Gemma wants to try her hand at making a batch herself.” He looked at me. “She plans to gather the lavender this afternoon. I’m certain she’d love your company, Miss Devale.”
“Tell her I’ll meet her at the fountain once I help Mistress Penniwell put away her purchases.”
“I will.”
The widow signed her tab, and we left the store.
“Thank you for your help, dear.”
“It is my pleasure.”
“You’d think I could carry my own basket for a few minutes, but my bones feel the years. I think I’ll make a cup of willow bark tea when I get home. A nap would serve me even better, but that’s impossible.”
“Is there anything I can do to make a nap possible?”
She scoffed. “Can you teach the smith to hammer quietly?”
“Is the noise very loud in your house?” I knew she lived near the smithy, but hadn’t realized her home was close enough that the noise from the forge would prevent a nap. I wondered if I’d get to see Alan as I walked her home.
“Yes, yes. Always the pounding. Every day: bam, clang, bam. Over and over. ”
“Every day?” I licked my lips, trying to plan out a rational argument that could slip past the charm ruining Alan’s life. It had taken so much to make the Wrisons re-examine their own beliefs, but maybe I had taken the wrong approach.
“Oh, he usually leaves the hammer alone on Solsday afternoons, but every other day it is all I hear.”
I wanted the widow to draw logical conclusions for herself. Instead of arguing, I needed to nudge. “You must appreciate when Master Powell visits Haiwella, then.”
“What is there to appreciate? He’s still hammering all day.”
“Who is?”
“The smith, dear. Aren’t you listening?”
“But you said this hammering is when the smith is in Haiwella.”
Mistress Penniwell was quiet for a few steps. We reached her house, in a row of similar homes right behind several businesses on the village square. She was a single dwelling away from the one sharing a yard with the forge.
I suspected the charm had twisted her around enough that she had forgotten my question and wondered if I should ask again as we entered the house. But the widow suddenly stopped, staring in the direction of the smithy, though the walls blocked it from view. “Must be that boy, Alan. I should give him a piece of my mind. Interrupting my rest! The boy doesn’t know how to respect his elders.”
I winced. Getting Alan in more trouble with the villagers had certainly not been my plan. But I couldn’t ignore this opportunity. “I thought Alan didn’t do any smithing?”
“Well then, who is always making that noise? Powell spends his day lounging around the shop. It must be the boy.”
I wanted to clap my hands together. Mistress Penniwell had gone as far as admitting that Alan was the one in the forge when Powell was in Skorsa, too. I considered pushing more, but decided not to risk going too far. She had reached a conclusion on her own, with only a few guiding questions from me, far more easily than the Wrisons had adapted their thinking when I pointed out the flaws in their logic. I didn’t need Mistress Penniwell to admit that Alan had skill. For now, it was enough for her to acknowledge that he did all the work in the forge.
I unpacked the basket and brewed a cup of willow bark tea. I brought it to the widow where she sat in the back room. A particularly loud ka-thump echoed through the house as I handed her the mug.
“I need to have a word with that boy,” Mistress Penniwell muttered.
???
Gemma was waiting for me by the time I reached the fountain, two baskets dangling from her arm. I took one from her and smiled. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Mistress Penniwell never seems to run out of things to say.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, when Pa said you were helping her, I knew it would be a while.”
“So, where do we find lavender?”
“There is a patch east of the village.”
I followed Gemma out of the main square and out toward the farms. We stayed on the main road, which was little more than a packed dirt track once we left behind the final row of houses in the village proper. After about twenty minutes, we turned south, and Gemma pointed out the clump of green and purple that was our destination.
Powerful yet delicate, the scent washed over me as we came closer. I closed my eyes and inhaled. I’d have to buy a bar of the soap Gemma made if it was ready before I left. Lavender wasn’t usually my preferred scent, but I couldn’t deny how lovely it was.
I watched the other woman for a moment, seeing how she cut entire stalks of blooming lavender to place in her basket. Following her lead, I cut a few stalks myself, looking for the ones teeming with tiny purple flowers .
“Have you made soap before?” I asked Gemma as we worked.
“Yes, but not like the bars Pa buys in Haiwella. Adelaide has a few ideas, though, and thinks we can make a finer soap than they use even in the palace.”
I had interacted little with Adelaide, the owner of the village apothecary. In her late twenties, she ran the apothecary by herself, which meant she was always much busier than Gemma, Kayla, and Hannah. Nor did she want help from someone with no clue what they were doing. I accepted the fact that any help I gave would only cause more work for her and hadn’t offered after the first time she refused.
I wondered what she based her assessment of palace soap on. “Who knows, maybe the royal family will discover your soap and start using it themselves.”
I felt disingenuous making the comment. Would Gemma one day laugh with me when thinking back on this conversation? Or would she feel betrayed by my lies? Knowing her, she’d forgive me in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t Gemma’s reaction I was truly worried about, I admitted.
Especially since I had not only used my charm on Alan, but I had also outright denied that my pendant was a charm. I never should have shown it to him as an example of an icosahedron—it had been a rash decision made without thought. But denying that the diamond was a charm had been a conscious choice. I could have admitted my deceit and allowed Alan, like the Wrisons, to become immune to the charm’s effects.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Gemma laughed, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “Imagine a member of the royal family coming out to a village like Skorsa to shop.”
I laughed with her, though the sound came out forced to my ears. “I believe the crown princess has been to stranger locations than Skorsa.”
Gemma dropped another sprig of lavender into her basket. “But her travels were about finding her future husband, not shopping. Do you think she has already decided on her consort? She stopped making those summer visits throughout the kingdom last year.”
“I think we’d know if she had chosen a man to marry.” I focused on cutting more lavender, hoping Gemma would let the topic drop. I had discussed my future marriage countless times over the years, but it had never felt as awkward as this. Partially, it was because I was pretending to be someone else, I knew. But mostly, it was because when Gemma had mentioned my future husband, for the first time, I hadn’t imagined an indistinct figure.
I had seen Alan.
Which was... not ridiculous—I refused to think that—but it was, at the very least, premature. I barely knew the smith. I wanted to help him get out from under Powell’s power. That was all.
I almost snorted, listening to my own thoughts. I barely knew Alan, but I knew the feel of his lips on mine. I knew my interest in him went beyond helping him with his stepfather. But that was still a long way from wanting to marry him.
Except now that I had pictured him in that role, the thought of choosing anyone else felt untenable. My hope had always been to find a man I could respect, one who would work hard for the good of the kingdom, whom I could get along with comfortably. But comfort no longer sounded all that appealing compared to the passion of kissing Alan.
Before Gemma could answer, a call cut across the field. “Hullo, ladies!”
Gemma jumped to her feet, spinning around. Luckily, she had left her basket on the ground, or all her lavender would have gone flying. “Cole!”
I rose from my crouch more slowly.
“I heard you came out to gather lavender and wanted to offer my help.” He finished crossing the meadow and leaned down to kiss Gemma.
She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him back enthusiastically enough that I thought it best to clear my throat and remind her of my presence. She stepped back, her grin wide, and tucked herself against Cole’s side. He glanced at me for the merest second, then away, his cheeks red.
“Why aren’t you at the farm?” Gemma asked. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but don’t you have too much to do at this time of year to sneak into the village?”
“We’re not in the village.”
“We are on the opposite side of the village from your family’s farm.”
“Dandelion threw a shoe, so I had to take her to Powell.”
“Shouldn’t you still be at the forge, then?”
Cole shook his head. “Alan can handle her just fine without me. And Powell has a few other things to work on before he can get to my horse. I’m to wait for word at the tavern, but since I don’t expect to hear anything until nearly supper, I came to find you.”
I had already been trying to go unnoticed, not wanting to intrude on Gemma and Cole’s time together, but at his words, I froze. He had mentioned Alan easily, without a hint of scorn. It hadn’t been in reference to blacksmithing, just handling a horse, but still. Could I build on that?
Gemma’s brow furrowed. “If nothing is an emergency, he should take care of Dandelion first, so you can get back to the farm sooner.”
Cole mirrored his betrothed’s expression for a moment, then spoke slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “I think Alan lied about what they needed to get done so I could sneak away to see you.”
I decided to test the limits of Powell’s charm. How much did it directly impact people’s emotions beyond their disappointment in Alan’s skills? Was the rest of the negativity just a side-effect, or purposeful? Remembering that my conversation with Widow Penniwell had worked because I let her draw her own conclusions, I didn’t push far. “That was nice of him.”
Cole nodded. “Alan’s always been a good friend.”
A moment after he spoke, Cole frowned as if wondering at his own words .
I debated saying anything else, but thought letting him wrestle with the fact that he considered Alan a good friend on his own might be better. I leaned down and grabbed the handle of my basket, then pushed it against Cole’s chest. “Since you got out of farm chores this afternoon, you’d better help Gemma finish collecting her lavender. Otherwise, she is going to feel guilty about letting you stay. I’ll leave you both to it.”
They tried to protest that I was welcome to stay, but not too hard. I smiled and insisted that they didn’t need me. Then I made my way back to the village, disappointed that it wasn’t later in the day, that my time to see Alan was still hours away. I wanted to let him know what Cole had said. I wanted to give him hope that maybe he could salvage his friendships, even without destroying the charm.
I wanted to see him and greet him the way Gemma had Cole.