Chapter Eight
Isla
How long do you plan on being out here this morning, my girl?
” Papa calls from the door. I smile into the dirt, not willing to lift my head to face him yet.
Early this morning, I set out to the garden to get the early harvest done.
“You’re going to work yourself to the bone,” his voice sounded closer.
“Did you drink your tea this morning?” I ask, avoiding the judgment.
He chuckles, softly. His small laugh turned into a cough that seizes his lungs. I jump up and rush over to him. Papa grips the rails to stabilize his balance as he tries to breathe. I snap mint off, crushing the leaves, and wave them under his nose.
“Easy, papa. Let’s go sit.” I try to usher him back to the house, but he waves me off.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.” His voice is raspy and weak. There’s a little shake in his hand. He pushes the small gate open and walks inside the little garden. Standing in the middle, papa closes his eyes and breathes deeply.
“Do you want me to brew more tea?”
Papa shakes his head. “No, this morning was plenty. Rain’s coming.”
“That’s good. We need it.” We make small talk about the shift in clouds, the cooler weather. All the signs that the skies would soon open up. “The plants are in need of the extra nourishment.”
“Aye,” my papa agrees. He leans heavily on the walking staff Jasper made him several months ago. “I heard the taxes are going up again.”
“Again.” I reply, somberly.
“We’ll be fine, Isla.”
“I know we will, papa. It’s just frustrating.
Between Raia and Oliver, I feel like I’m being torn apart.
I don’t know how to feel anymore. Oliver tells me to trust him while he’s off saving the kingdom, but Raia is telling me there’s more.
That he is the problem.” Papa listens as I let go of all the warring emotions that I’ve been feeling.
He stands there but doesn’t say anything.
“What do I do? Am I a traitor to my people if I’m siding with him?
He’s not like his family, though. He’s… He’s different, papa.
I’m telling you. That side that everyone gets?
That’s not my Oliver.” By the time I finish my rampage, my voice is barely above a whisper.
Still, my papa stands there. Understanding and love is clear on his face.
“Oh, Isla.” Papa shakes his head. He gives me a small smile.
“What do I do, papa?”
“Follow your heart.” He says it, simply, as if it were the easiest choice.
I groan. Before I can open my mouth, the sound of a horse trotting down our small drive pulls our attention.
Oliver, dressed in a casual dark shirt and tan breeches, trots up on his dark bay. He wears a small smile as he greets us.
“Sir Oliver,” my papa greets him, dipping as low as he can.
“Can I talk to you?” Oliver asks me. My papa slowly starts out of the garden, squeezing my hand when he walks past. Oliver dismounts and ties his horse up to the small fence. He walks over to me, pulling me into him.
“Missed me?” I ask, giggling into his chest.
“More than you know,” he says in the crook of my neck. “By the Fates, it’s good to see you.”
“Are you glad to be home?” I ask him. I want to ask everything. From what he was doing to what’s going on here, but I worry he’ll never give me the truth. Opting to comfort me with a lie, instead, to shield me from any of the horrors he faces.
He sighs in response. “It’s been a long trip.”
“What happened?”
“The Hood.” His face is harsh and angry.
He grips me tightly, wrapped up in memories I wished I could see.
I’m desperate to know more, to have insight on what plagues him so badly.
I wish to be seen as a partner, instead of the woman he’s in love with, instead of a means to an end.
Shouldn’t that be love? Shouldn’t we walk side by side together?
“I heard he ambushed you,” I barely whisper. I tread carefully, tiptoeing around the rumors, so I don’t anger him with town gossip.
“Oh, Islabelle. I barely escaped with my life. He’s ruthless.”
My heart stutters. “What did he do to you?”
“They were everywhere. They had us surrounded. No less than fifty men surrounded us, swords drawn.”
“I thought there weren’t that many men with the Hood?” I ask, confused. Raia always made it seem like it was a small band of men. I swallow down the strife as Oliver pushes on, ignoring my question.
“They cut down the guards without a second chance. Merciless. Mean. Barbarians. I can’t imagine how they’re gaining any ground. This rebellion movement is spreading like a sickness. It’s a disease.” Oliver is angry.
His face is turning a pale shade of red the more he talks. “You should have seen them, Isla. These rebels that follow the Hood, they’re a nasty sort.”
“What are you going to do? How do you stop it?”
“And then, I come home, to find a swath of rebels in my own home! My own village! And you just so happen to be out with that bread girl and the boy.” He turns to me; an eyebrow raised in a challenge.
“Wha— we were just out dancing?”
“You don’t dance,” he deadpans.
“And how would you know that, Oliver? You’re never home,” I snap. Oliver sighs. He raises his hands in surrender.
“I just want you safe, Islabelle. I want you nestled in your home, staying out of trouble. I’ve seen these rebels. I barely escaped with my life, remember?”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I blurt out the rumors surrounding the Hood’s attack on him. “I heard he sent you on your way in your underwear.”
“TO EMBARRASS ME,” he roars. His face fills with the unfamiliar fury I’ve been seeing more and more lately when we’re together.
“What is really happening, Oliver? Why is the rebellion growing stronger? Should the Prince not heed any warnings? Tend to his people?”
Oliver’s head whips towards mine. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I step towards him, gripping his arm. “Then tell me, please. I just want to know. No, I need to know. The truth, Oliver.”
He shakes his head. “I just want to keep you safe. I want to get you out of this hovel,” he looks around. Hurt pinches my heart.
“Oliver. This is my home. You’re insulting my home,” I try to reason with him.
“Oh, Islabelle. Soon, the only home that will matter is mine. Soon you’ll be in my home and in my bed. You’ll be safe and sound. A belly full with our babe, waiting for me to return.”
My face twists in frustration. “I’m not something to be kept, Oli. Besides, I think I’ve had enough of waiting for you to come home. I thought the leaving would end once this is over? Isn’t that what you promised?”
Oliver shrugs. “I’ll always have my duty to the crown, Isla. But you’ll be happy, I promise. You won’t have to slave away in the market for a little coin or get your pretty hands dirty in this mud or worry about your little plant thing.”
“My little plant thing?”
“No wife of mine will be working, Isla,” Oliver warns.
“And if I want to?”
“You won’t. Your duty will be to our family, raising my children.”
“Raising your children,” I echo.
“Anyone would be so lucky to be you, Isla.” He kisses my cheek, effectively ending the conversation.
Doubt and confusion wiggle themselves further into my heart.
Raia shaking her head plays in my mind repeatedly.
I see her as she stands disappointed in the corner, a figment of my imagination, mouthing “I told you so.”