Chapter Four
Isla
The healer’s office always brings a sense of peace and belonging every time I step through the doors. Smells of rosemary and lavender waft through the air. Plants are hung and draped across the stone walls. Candles light up the room.
I carry a basket in with all the materials I need to make more tonics with Healer Sibley. The room is empty when I walk in. A small bell chimes to alert the healer when visitors walk in playing a soft and calming “ding.”
“Good morning, my dear!” Healer Sibley calls from the back.
He has a graying face and wrinkles around his eyes. Sibley walks out of the room and to the counter that stands near the door. “What have you brought me today?”
I shrug, heaving the heavy basket onto the counter. The jars rattle in the basket.
“Nothing special. The calendula is doing really well right now. More rosemary than I need. Raia and I collected more marshmallow root than I thought, so I brought some of that too,” I list off, filing through the items as I unload each one.
Sibley’s smile grows wider and wider as each jar, dried leaf, and fresh flower is pulled out.
“Nothing special?” He asks. “Nothing special? Oh, Isla, my dear. This is all incredible. It will help this village so much.” Sibley reaches into his clothes, handing me a pouch of coins for the goods I pulled out of the basket. Relief expands my chest at the sight of the coin pouch.
“I also found some other things foraging in the forest, I thought maybe you could use,” I explain. White nettle, foxglove, and lungwort are among the bundles of plants I brought in. Sibley’s eyes light up in excitement over the bounty.
“Incredible. Just incredible,” he mumbles and shakes his head. Sibley pauses for a moment, lost in thought. “Where did you say your family was from again? Beyond here, of course.”
I look over at him, confused. “I’m not sure where they’re from sir.”
“Hmm. Interesting,” he mumbles. It isn’t unusual for Sibley to speak in short answers and spells but today feels different. Today, I wish to beg him to speak plainly, to tell me exactly what was on his mind, but I’m terrified of disrespecting him.
Two years ago, Sibley swept into town, set up his healing shop, and became the village healer. He hails from a small village near the ocean. Sibley explains that he comes from a family of healers and only one was needed in town, so he took off on an adventure, and it somehow led him here.
“What’s interesting?” I asked casually, unable to keep the curiosity at bay any longer.
“And how did you find your interest in healing plants and tonics?” Sibley pauses, waiting for me to answer. “Other than making your way into my shop, of course.”
I open my mouth to answer but snap it shut. A million answers run through my head. How can I explain to him that I didn’t know? That sometimes I swear the plants speak to me? That occasionally, I feel their emotions and guidance when I walk through the grove?
“It sounds foolish, trust me, but they just speak to me. They call to me like an old friend. I feel it in my bones,” I tell him. Sibley’s spine stiffens in response. He turns to me, a curious glance on his face.
“They speak to you?”
“Yes sir,” I nod. “Like I said, it sounds foolish, but they tell me exactly what they can do. Small whispers, usually, like a small breeze. Sometimes they’re more persistent. I can feel them.”
Sibley hums again before answering me. Tension hangs in the air between us.
“Isla dear,” he grabs my hands roughly. “Please, you must promise me you will never tell a soul about this. There are dangerous things that could happen if anyone were to find out.”
Sibley’s voice is barely above a whisper. I acknowledge him silently, unable to speak, but he grips my arms tighter. Panic seizes Sibley. He squeezes my shoulders. “Say it. Say you understand. Promise me you won’t put yourself in danger like that. He is here for that very reason.”
“I pr-promise,” I tell him, tripping over my words. My heart races rapidly, I fear it will burst out of my chest. “I won’t say anything. I won’t, but who? Who is here for that?”
“The prince searches for anything he can use in his favor.”
“I thought he was here for his coronation tour?” I ask. Sibley scoffs.
“Isla, the prince couldn’t care any less about this kingdom and the state that it is in. My dear, open your eyes. The prince is searching for something— be it the rebels or something else. The prince is hunting.” My mind spins as I replay his words in my head.
“Sibley,” I whisper. “Please tell me you’re not a rebel. Please.”
“Oh, my dear. Times are changing. Be wary, Isla. Always be wary.” With that, he ushers me out of his shop, locking the door as soon as I’m out.
Uncertainty pours through me at Sibley’s refusal to answer whether or not he’s a rebel.
It makes me think of Raia’s insistence that Oliver isn’t telling the complete truth.
I walk out onto the quiet street. The village is still when the market isn’t running. Shopkeepers stay indoors, waiting for the villagers to come to them. The farmers are back on their little plots of land praying their next bounty will be enough to cover the next inevitable rise in taxes.
I sigh while I walk down the street. What was once an excited and happy village, has slowly dwindled into a lowly village that squeaks by.
A steady whistling stops me in my tracks. The sheriff of Cahir walks with Philipa on his arm. He twirls a set of keys in the opposite hand. Philipa’s gaze locks with mine, chilling my bones.
“My, my. What do we have here?” Sheriff Coley asks. He wears a huge grin at the prey in his sights. “Isla, how does it go?”
“Sheriff Coley, Lady Philipa,” I greet them both, dipping in a shallow curtsy to please the two wolves in front of me.
“Coming from Healer Sibley’s?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent, excellent. What you two do for the community is outstanding,” Sheriff Coley says.
“Outstanding, indeed,” Philipa agrees, sourly. “But, unfortunately, Father had to raise the taxes again.”
Sheriff Coley nods his head in agreement. “Luckily, we ran into you. We’ll take them now, Isla.” He holds his hand out expectantly.
My body tenses. I want to scream at them, to spit in their faces. The demanding work for the little coin that I raise for the groceries, for the taxes we already owe. “Come now, Isla. Don’t make a scene.”
“Or do. I’m sure you’d fit in with the trash in our dungeons just perfectly.” Philipa smiles. Hatred gleans in her eyes.
Oliver won’t stand for this, I reassure myself. I want to shake my head, to throw my relationship with him in their faces, to threaten them with his wrath. But who am I?
Still some lowly farm girl.
“Hurry up now, Isla. I have other runs to make. Don’t make me get mean,” the sheriff warns. Warning bells go off in my head as panic claws up my throat. I nod, shuffling through my empty basket. Anything to stall just a little bit longer.
“Poor little Isla,” Philipa mocks. “Always trying to help. Always trying to be above your station. When will you realize that you are the scum beneath my family’s feet? You’re made to serve. Nothing more. Hopefully, this little reminder will keep you in your place.”
I can see Raia in my mind shaking her head and wearing an “I told you so” look on her face while Oliver looks at me in pity. Sheriff Coley grips my arm tightly. “Coin, now girl. I have other people to see.”
Before I can hand the sheriff the pouch, he yanks it from my grasp and releases me. I stumble forward into Philipa. “Get off me,” she screams.
Coley shoves me to the ground. The cobblestone path bites into the palms of my hands. His boot lands in between my shoulder blades. I grit my teeth at the sharp pain in my back. Oliver isn’t here, so his sister seizes her moment.
“Is there trouble here?” A deep voice calls out. The town butcher comes out of his shop. His hands sit on his hips.
“Just a misunderstanding is all,” the sheriff lifts his boot off my back and jerks my arms up. The world dips from the momentum. “But I’m glad you’re in, Thomas. We need to have a little chat as well.”
I brush the dirt off my skirts and pick my empty basket off the ground. Philipa and Sheriff Coley bound off to terrorize the rest of the village. Shaken, I hurry off to the farm, my mind spins with thoughts of taxes, rebels, and the Duke’s family. Apprehension sinks into my bones.
∞∞∞
The moon shines brightly over the garden, while I sit in silence, listening to the creatures of the night come out. Soon, I’ll be making my way towards our meeting spot. I pull Willow, the old mare, out of the little paddock next to the house.
“Up for a little adventure tonight, my girl,” I whisper, brushing her mane.
I’m set to meet Oliver tonight, finally.
Between him being so busy with the Prince’s visit, and Papa keeping me busy, we haven’t been able to see each other, but eventually, a note came.
Oliver asked me to meet him in the grove at midnight.
I saddle Willow up and mount her, taking off towards the Grove.
I can’t shake the discomfort and unease that grows in my chest. The state of the village, the visit from Philipa and Sheriff Coley, the coffers at home, and the insistence that something was off from Raia are beginning to weigh on me.
The time I have with Oliver was few and far between these days and it bothers me. I’m left in the dark and I hate it. It isn’t unusual for him to be off on his duty with the royal guard, but lately I've grown tired of it.
I follow the winding path through the thick trees. The crickets chirping help settle the panic that begs to run free. Plants whisper their sweet caress, offering a reprieve from the untamable emotions that crowd my brain.
After a bit, I spot Oliver in the distance. He’s pacing back and forth. It’s such a different sight than our usual meetings. Oliver was one to lounge around, never letting the weight of his responsibilities overwhelm him.