Chapter Six
Isla
The bustling market day was loud but comforting — a comforting buzz that reminds me things aren’t as bad as they could be. It’s often that the villagers use this day to get all the rumors they need from the vendors who travel around the kingdom.
It’s how the news of a sparking rebellion travelled throughout so swiftly. I don’t usually pay attention to the swirling rumors, but these past two weeks without Oliver have been long. They’ve been arduous. No letter, not a single word about his travels.
Dread creeps up, but I immediately shake it off.
Three women walk around my stand, examining the medicinal potions I carry today.
They pick up everything from headache medicine to healing salves that prevent a fever from setting in.
A blonde with a pale blue wool dress hovers close, creating a little distance from her two friends.
“Excuse me, miss,” she says in a hushed tone. Her cheeks are a pale pink, either from too much rouge or embarrassment, I wasn’t quite sure.
“Hello,” I smile carefully, dipping my chin.
“You,” she hesitates. “You don’t happen to have a tonic to prevent a babe, do you?” By the time she finishes her question, her voice is barely above a whisper.
I try to keep the shock from my face, but I can’t stop the rise in my eyebrows. Most wouldn’t ask for such a tonic, fearing the gossip mill around the village. Taking a moment to recover, I quickly shake my head.
“I don’t, but Healer Sibley should have some.” Trepidation grips her features. She shakes her head violently.
“Oh, no. No, it's okay.” She backs up, looking over her shoulder for her friends. I hold my hands in surrender.
“I can make some,” I tell her abruptly. There were certain herbs I grow in the garden, far from peeking eyes, that prevent the monthly cycle to come about.
I brew the tea religiously, unwilling to bring a new babe into the world on my own.
Our world wasn’t kind to bastard children and women on their own.
Hope lights up the blond woman’s eyes. “I’ll meet you, wherever.” She squeezes my hands.
“Come to the farm this evening. I will have the tea tin packaged for you. It’s a simple tea, but it mustn't be skipped. Every night before bed.”
The young woman bobs her head in understanding. She thanks me profusely and takes off towards her friends who have already moved on to the next stall. They giggle with the shopkeeper, who tell them a tale of the prince. My ears perk up.
“Isla!” my best friend calls out, pulling me from the conversation of the shopkeeper. “Isla!” Raia runs up, short of breath. She leans casually against the stand, trying to breathe.
“What is going on with you?”
Raia takes a deep breath. Her cheeks are red from exertion. “You’ll never guess what I heard. Not a soul has stopped talking about it.”
“What? What happened? I haven’t heard anything.”
“The Hood got to The Prince and Oliver.”
I yank her shoulders towards me and clasp my hands around her face. “What? What do you mean?” I beg her to speak faster, willing her to tell me Oliver wasn’t hurt.
Raia bursts out laughing, pulling my hands down from her face. “Oh, calm down, Isla. It’s nothing too serious. They’re fine. Embarrassed, maybe, but fine. It’s the strangest thing. Apparently, the Hood and his men robbed them blind, made them strip out of their clothes, and let them leave.”
“What?” My eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? I guess he just wanted to embarrass The Prince.
He managed that one.” Raia’s jaw gapes open in disbelief, like even she can’t believe the words that spill out of her mouth.
She brushes me off. “No matter. That’s not what I’m even here for.
I’m here to see if you wanted to go dancing tonight. ”
Raia bounces on the balls of her feet in excitement with a wide smile that dons her face. I bite back the urge to groan. I don’t want to go dancing tonight, but there’s no good excuse I can use to get out of it.
“Don’t say no,” Raia warns. My mouth gapes open.
“I would never!”
“Liar,” she huffs.
“Ugh,” I groan. “Okay, fine. We’ll go dancing tonight.”
“Excellent. Jasper will be so excited!” Raia takes off before I can stop her.
Jasper and her are sweet on each other, but both too nervous to speak up about it.
Shaking my head at the tizzy of excitement Raia bounds through life in, I slowly begin packing my things up at the stand.
The market goers are waning, so I decide to call it a day.
I need to prepare a monthly tea for the blonde woman anyways.
∞∞∞
By the time I get home, the blonde woman is waiting anxiously at the door. She greets me with a tight smile. The woman wrings her hands together. Apprehensiveness spills off of her, impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry. I am a little early.”
I smile at her. “It’s okay. Come. Come inside.” I move towards the door, but she grabs my arm. Her eyes hold a panicked gaze.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Her skin is pale, bluish skin under her eyes speaks of her exhaustion.
Fading little bruises peek out of the high collar on her gown.
My heart drops into the pit of my stomach at the sight.
It’s not unusual for women to be used and abused in Azmerin but it’s a sickening sight, nonetheless.
“I’m glad I can help you,” I reassure her. I push open the door, motioning her to go inside.
My grandfather sits at the table, reading a small book. He peers over the small spectacles that rest on the bridge of his nose. The sight of him is a far cry from the sickness that he’s been dealing with the past few weeks. “Hello papa.”
“Hello, my dear.” He greets me. The small woman’s cheeks tinge with pale pink. She stiffens at the sight of him, her eyes bouncing from the table to me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Let me get you some tea.” The young woman nods her head in agreement.
“My name is Freya.”
“Well, Freya, come in. Come in. Papa here makes great conversation. I’ll be right back.
” I give her a tight smile and rush to the cupboard to grab the supplies I need to brew the teas I need; one concoction for her monthly cycle and one tea brewed for her nerves.
She sits at the table with my papa. He puts her at ease with his soft voice and his gentle jokes.
“How long have you been married to Sir Connor?”
“Only two months,” Freya replies. There’s a sadness in her voice that has me catching my breath. Two months into a new wedding and the man is already cruel to his young bride. Of course he is.
I resist rolling my eyes at the thoughts of the arrogant cousin of Oliver. Sir Connor deems himself superior due to his familial ties. Typical. I can hear Raia now lamenting over the evil power of the Cahir family and the unrighteousness of it all.
I scan the contents of my cupboard looking for the ingredients I need for a subtle sleeping tonic. Something that will be easy to slip into a drink undetected but deliver a long night’s sleep. Dried chamomile for an anxiety reducing buzz.
Valerian root to urge one to sleep. A simple concoction steeped in one’s wine will send them into a deep sleep, not even the Fates could wake. After grinding the two together, I put them in a cheese cloth pouch, perfect for steeping.
I glance back over at my shoulder to see the two getting along like two thieves in the night.
Satisfaction fills my heart as I set out to finish the monthly tonic Freya will need to take until she gathered the strength to leave Connor.
She looks more at-ease— a far cry from the woman at my door only minutes ago.
Grabbing the two tinctures, I walk back to the table.
Freya stands at the sight of me. There’s a warmer smile on her face and a lighter step in her gait. I walk her out of our little home and hand her the two tinctures I worked on. Confusion is clear on her face. “Oh Miss,” she starts.
I cut her off. “Listen to my words, Freya.” I point to the monthly tea. “Each night, one cup of tea. Brew it for five minutes every night before bed, and no babe will come.”
She nods her head in understanding. Pointing to the small mesh bag, I speak more calmly.
“And when you’re ready, steep this in his wine for at least ten minutes.
He’ll be out for the rest of the night. Sound asleep.
That will be your moment. Pack your bags and don’t look back, Freya. Flee.” I squeeze her hands.
Her eyes start to well with unshed tears. All she can do is silently nod. I gently push her to the road. Freya looks back at me. “Thank you.”
“Be strong and let the Fates guide you.”
With that, Freya walks off, holding more tonics than she bargained for and an opportunity for a new life. I sigh. A bit of sorrow weasels its way into my bones.
I miss Oli and I hate his family. How the two tear at me drives me wild. How can one person as good as him, come from a family that is so evil, so pompous, and so Fates-damned awful?
I know, deep down, that if anyone were to find out the teas I brewed for the young women needing a bit of freedom, an escape plan, or a bit of solitude, the Duke would come for me.
They’d argue that it wasn’t right of me to meddle in married affairs or to step into a man’s business. Because apparently, creating a family is only a man’s business in this little village.
“She was a sweet girl,” my papa comments when I step through the door.
“In over her head, unfortunately,” I mutter. Bitterness drips from my words, causing my papa to chuckle.
“It’s just the way things are with nobility, Isla. It’s society.”
“But, why? What if things were different?” I sit at the table next to him and clutch his arm. “What if they didn’t have to be? What if the young women in nobility could choose?”
Papa sighs and rests his hand on top of mine. “Oh, Isla. I wish it could be, but I fear, with the way things are going, that will never happen.”
“Sir Oliver will change things,” I tell him, matter-of-factly. Papa only eyes me, examining the look on my face. He pats my hand gently. Before he can respond, a familiar knock sounds at the door.
Raia peeks her head in the door. “Hello, you two!”
“Raia dear, come in. Sit, sit.” My papa gestures to her from his seat at the table. “We were just talking about Sir Oliver.” I cut my eyes to him, huffing. Raia rolls her eyes.
“Nothing good, I hope,” she grumbles and plops down in the chair next to him. My papa’s shoulders shake from the laugh he’s holding in. I sigh, completely exasperated at her instance Oliver is just like his family. He’s not, I know it.
Ignoring the growing animosity at the mention of Oliver’s name, papa smiles at Raia. “What’s new with your family? How’s the bakery?”
Raia’s shoulders drop a little at the mention of the bakery. “Taxes went up a little bit. It’s getting harder to cover them now. Not too many people can afford to come in and shop the way they used to.”
My mind flashes to Sheriff Coley and Philipa collecting them the other day. “Was Philipa with Sheriff Coley this time?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“This time?” Raia asks, perplexed. Her eyebrows arch, giving me a look that tells me she knows I’ve kept something from her. I flinch at the slip up.
“I ran into them leaving Healer Sibley’s.”
“When?”
“Oh, a couple weeks ago now.”
“A couple weeks ago?!” Raia shouts. “And you didn’t tell me?” She gives me a hurt expression.
“It was nothing, honestly.”
“Did they speak to you? What did they want?”
I snort at the memory of them forcing my hand over the small pouch of coin I collected that day. “Yeah, you could definitely say they spoke to me— demanded more like. They took the coin I was paid, claiming taxes had risen again.”
Papa’s shoulders are tense as I recount exactly what happened. Raia peppers me with questions, insisting they stole what was rightfully ours, but how could I argue against them? How could I tell the sheriff no.
“Now Rai,” I try to reason with her. “You know as well as I do that if I were to do anything, anything at all, you’d be visiting me in the dungeons of the Duke’s estate.”
Raia scoffs. “You? What happened to Sir Oliver?” She raises her eyebrows again, challenging me. “I thought he was sweet on you.”
My papa just sits between us, watching the exchange while he sips the tea I’ve brewed. He stays silent, waiting for the frustration between Raia and I to putter out like it usually does.
“Ugh, when are you going to give this up?” I snap.
“ME?” Raia’s head rears back as if I had slapped her. “You’re asking me when am I going to give it up? You need to be asking yourself that.”
A sharp sigh escapes me. “Honestly, Rai. He’s not like them.”
“Oh, please. Then why doesn’t he stop this madness? If he’s close with the prince like he says he is, then why doesn’t he put a stop to the rise in taxes, to the abuse from his family?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Not that simple,” she deadpans.
“He’s the second heir. He practically doesn’t have a voice, Raia.”
“He’s best friends with the Crowned Prince. The next ruler of this kingdom. Please stop being naive.”
“Raia,” my papa warns. He sits back in his chair a little, signaling her that she might have stepped a bit too far.
“Naive? I’m naive?”
“Yes. Willfully ignorant is just as bad as the ones doing this to us.”
My heart pinches at the accusation. “I’m not willfully ignorant. Maybe the Duke just needs the taxes. The rebellion —”
Raia cuts me off before I can argue further. She reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. “Don’t. You don’t know anything that’s going on.”
“But Oliver said—”
“OLIVER IS LYING, ISLA,” she shouts. I flinch at the accusation. Raia jumps up out of her chair. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just. I need you to see it.”
“I know you mean well; I do. I just need you to trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing and that Oliver isn’t like them. I’ll prove it to you.” I tell her. I hate fighting with my best friend.
Papa muffles a yawn that slips out. He grabs both of our hands and squeezes. “One day, you’ll both look back on this and laugh at how foolish the other one was. Don’t let it get to you both.”
We both give him a tight smile. He moves to get up. “It’s getting a bit late for this old man. Isla, I’ll see you tomorrow. Raia dear, do come back over soon. Send your parents my love.”
“Oh, papa,” Raia laughs. “I’m practically over every day. Sleep well.” We watch him hobble slowly back to his room before Raia turns her attention back to me. “Come on. Don’t think this Oliver conversation made me forget your promise. We’re going dancing.”
I groan, resting my forehead in my hands. “Must we?”
“Get up.” Raia grabs me and pulls me out the door.