Chapter Nine
Oleander
I had not meant to fall asleep in Castien’s bed, but the warmth of his strong arms holding me and the lazy kisses and the aftermath of our shared orgasms had pulled me deep into slumber.
When we woke, Castien looked dazed at the sight of me. “You stayed,” he whispered.
I nodded and gave him a gentle kiss, so different from the ones we’d shared the night before.
Reminders of our passion were still visible.
The rag we’d used to clean up was on the bedside table, sitting along the vial of lubrication and the pleasure device he’d used on me.
I understood why it was that his devices sold so well now.
Thoughts of purchasing that shirt were replaced with thoughts of purchasing the device he’d used on me.
Or maybe I’d buy the one I’d seen in his stall, short and thick like his cock. I could imagine it was him touching me when I used it once we went our separate ways at the week’s end.
“Would you care for breakfast?” Castien asked as we pulled away from the kiss.
“I have to get back to my camp,” I told him reluctantly.
“I cannot very well walk the market in yesterday’s clothing.
” It would be bad enough walking back through the market in the clothing I’d worn the day before.
I felt no shame about what we had done, but I did dislike the idea of people seeing me in the same outfit two days in a row.
Castien studied me, and then a smile formed on his face. “Meet me downstairs.”
He rose from the bed and dressed quickly, far more quickly than I could ever manage.
He grabbed the first pair of trousers from one pile of clothing and a folded shirt from the other.
I wondered if he had stacked them so that each one matched perfectly.
It seemed the type of efficiency he would favor.
Even with no options, I still dressed more slowly than he did.
If I had to walk through market in the same clothing I wore the day before, I could at least make sure the clothing was well-kempt.
I was careful with the laces of my trousers, making sure they were perfectly flat.
I straightened my tunic near obsessively, and then I set to work on finger combing my hair into some semblance of order.
When I finally descended the ladder from the loft, Castien was sitting on the sofa holding the bag he’d had the day before at the market.
“I was saving this for your last day at market,” he said hesitantly, “but as you do not wish to walk back in the same outfit you wore yesterday, I’d like you to have it now. ”
I raised an eyebrow as I took the bag from him. Had he bought me some sort of garment? It seemed extravagant, far more extravagant than our friendship warranted. I had seen the prices of the garments at market. It had prevented me from purchasing anything thus far, though I dreamed of—
The shirt. The shirt with the intricate needlework that I’d fallen in love with the first day. My breath caught in my throat as I pulled the soft material from the cloth bag. “This is too much,” I whispered. It was softer than I remembered, more beautiful than my memory.
“It is not,” he insisted. “I saw the way you looked at it every time we passed that vendor, and I knew it was meant to be yours. Please, take it.” He spoke with such sincerity that I felt it would be an insult to do anything other than accept his generous gift.
I stripped the old tunic from my body and replaced it with the one he’d purchased for me.
“You look beautiful,” he declared. His voice held such reverence that my face warmed again.
“I still need to get back,” I told him.
He nodded. “I need to get ready for my day as well. I will see you at the stall?”
“Yes,” I assured him. He walked me to the door of his cabin and gave me a kiss goodbye. I floated through the doorway and all the way back to my tent.
Unfortunately, a summons from my parents brought me crashing back to reality once I reached my tent.
There was a folded paper with Mother’s handwriting on my unslept-in bed.
Father was feeling poorly, and they needed me.
I knew they must be desperate if they were asking me, because Mother and Father both knew I was worthless in the apothecary.
I could not fill Father’s shoes, no matter how hard I tried.
It would be a disaster of a day, but I could not let my parents down.
I knew the importance of their stall. The coin they earned at Everend Market financed so much throughout the year.
The last time I’d visited my home, they’d spoken of repairs to the hearth that needed to be done, and I could not be the reason they were unable to make the repairs my childhood home needed.
Castien would understand.
I found a piece of paper among my belongings and wrote a quick note to him, telling him that I would be unable to meet that day. I redressed myself in a simpler tunic and a clean pair of trousers, and I found my parents in their tent.
Father looked miserable. His eyes were red, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
Mother had her hand on his chest, and I knew she was reading his energies, attempting to work her magic on whatever ailed him.
I could feel the subtle shift in the air that I had long since come to recognize as Mother’s magic and took a step back, not wanting anything to interfere with her work.
When she pulled her hand away, she sighed.
“You will simply have to rest today,” she scolded him.
“Oleander will help me in the stall. Right, Oleander?”
She looked at me for the first time, and I saw the wrinkles of age around her eyes. Even if I had come to tell her no, I knew my answer would have changed in that moment.
“Of course, Mother,” I confirmed.
“Are you sure?” Father croaked. “I know—I know you do not enjoy working the apothecary.”
“It is not a matter of enjoyment. It is a matter of your health,” I told him with a shake of my head. I just hoped that none of their patrons asked me to advise them on their health. “Rest so you can return tomorrow.”
Father began to grumble, but a sharp look from Mother silenced him. “I will check on you at lunch,” Mother called out before motioning for me to follow her.
Mother talked about my responsibilities for the day as we walked through the market.
I kept the folded paper meant for Castien in my hand, searching for a familiar face, someone I could use to ferry the note to his stall.
Unfortunately, it was only vendors allowed in at this hour, vendors and stragglers who were returning to tents and cabins from being out the night before.
It wasn’t until we reached the apothecary that she turned her attention to things outside of the business. “And where were you last night? Did you meet your future spouse?”
I was taken aback by her questioning. I did not think she would acknowledge either my absence from my tent that morning or the fact that I had come to market with a single focus.
“I have met someone, yes,” I confirmed. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel the upward tick of my lips and I knew that my smile gave away everything I felt for Castien.
“Tell me about them.” Mother’s blunt words sounded more like a demand than a request, but there was a smile that softened them. I was not used to this level of interest in my personal life, and I did not know if I liked it.
I began to straighten a stack of salves Father had made.
He had a label on it, penned in his careful writing, stating the ingredients and the use.
I’d never seen these cards on the shelves before, and I thought it a genius way to help the clientele.
It would also prevent me from making a fool of myself. Again.
I could still feel the weight of Mother’s eyes on my back, and I heaved a sigh.
“His name is Castien,” I began. “He is a vendor from Gearwick.” Mother listened as I talked about Castien, about how we met and the days we’d spent together at market.
I told her of his generosity and the way he made me feel when he sang my praises.
Mother, of all people, knew how rare it was that anyone spoke highly of me or my skills.
Most people simply found fault, but not Castien.
I did not tell her of the time we’d spent in the forest or the night we’d spent together, but the look on her face told me that she knew.
When I finished, she was silent for a few minutes. “You care for him,” she finally stated. I nodded. “Does he know?”
“I’m not sure it matters. He does not want to be married, and Gearwick is so far away from Emberleigh.”
“It is not like you to be so practical.” Her kind tone did not soften the blow of her words.
I was a dreamer. I was not a practical person.
I was not intelligent enough to see things sensibly.
Every insecurity I’d ever felt flared back to life, making themselves known.
I frowned, and Mother reached out. Her soft hands squeezed my bare arm.
“You are meant to be a dreamer, Oleander. You have always been one. Do not start allowing life’s practicalities to change you or prevent you from seeking your happiness. ”
It was unexpected advice from my mother. She treasured practicality and had always scolded me for not having enough of it. “Some dreams are not meant to come true.”
“And some are.” Mother studied me for a moment longer before squaring her shoulders. “Now, there is a crate of syrups in the back. They need to go there.” She pointed at a bare spot on the shelf. “We need them stocked before the market opens.”
The soft moment had ended, and normalcy had returned.