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I go back into the apothecary, enjoying the comfort it wraps me in as I slide my fingers along the rows of small jars on the stocked shelves. I read the names of the herbs and leaves, the roots and pungent spices. I wonder how long each of the ingredients will keep. Gram was always the one who did inventory, knew the shelf life of each one by heart. I think again how I am a weak substitute for Gram. I glance at the top shelf. Gram keeps the least-used remedies there. Some of the jars are dusty from neglect. They probably need to be thrown out. I retrieve a step stool and take down the six jars that Gram left there to perish. I read the labels and lose my breath when one hits my brain.
Willow’sWisp.
But to my disappointment, the jar is empty. Why have I never seen this before? Nothing Gram has ever used in my presence has been labeled Willow’s Wisp. I set the jar on the bottom shelf. Could this jar have belonged to my mother? Held one of her spells, if she were indeed a mage like Gram professed? I’ll find out all I can, scour Gram’s notes when exhaustion isn’t my bedfellow. There is nothing more I can possibly will myself to discover this long night.
A yawn finds me. I rub my eyes, finally feeling as though I could sleep for a bit. I check the latch on the front door and secure the new lock Jordy put on it when I told him of Sir Malek’s threat. I go into the bedroom and take off my dress. I pull Gram’s match and my flintstone from my chemise before lying down and set them on the bedside table. I leave the feather, will not remove it until it meets its purpose. I climb into Gram’s bed and pull the covers up around my neck. I sink my head into her pillow, then bury my nose in it. The pillow still smells like Gram’s hair, a mixture of rosehips and lavender. And I will savor her scent for as long as it remains.
CHAPTER 15
Market square has been bustling this day, and I have sold every item I brought with me except one—a hand-me-down scarf. I spy the woman of means who has never purchased anything from me. I should simply pass her by. I recall her reaction the last time all I had to offer was a used scarf. Everyone has been quite generous of late, so I don’t need her charity or the aching in my head she normally generates when I encounter her, so I keep walking.
“Match girl,” she calls out when I pass her by. “May I see your wares today?”
I sigh and put on a smile. “Sure, kind lady, but I am afraid that all I have to offer is a scarf. I do recall that hand-me-downs are not your pleasure. This day has been a prosperous one, however, so the scarf is all I have to offer.”
“I still wish to see it,” she insists.
Odd, but I play along. I give her the scarf, and she barely looks at it. “I’ll take it. How much?”
Shock steals my voice for a moment. Has the wealthy woman hit her head? Had a spiritual awakening? Lost her mind?
I find my voice, “Umm, that will be three bits, my lady.” I’m still surprised. This sell was too simple. What is her game?
“Thank you, match girl. Here you are.” She places the coins in my hand. The lady of means gives me a weak smile. “I heard about your grandmother. My grandmother raised me too. I was devastated when she went to be with the gods. I know your loss, and I am truly sorry, lass.”
I nod. “Thank you for your condolences, my lady.” Her softer side is nice. She should show it more often.
She moves along and crosses to the side of the street. She hands the scarf to a beggar who looks frightfully cold. A grin parts my lips. There is indeed a warm heart in her narrow chest after all. The thought makes my smile widen. Miracles do happen.
The scarf was the last item from my basket, and I have sold every single match. Selling my wares has been simple of late. Sympathy has been at play. The sun will be setting within the hour and I have nothing left to barter. I have never seen a day like this and will likely never see it again. I reach in my coin pouch. Ten bits. And I still have food at home. This will give me extra coins for oil for the lamps and maybe a new bonnet. My old one has a small tear on the left side. I found some fabric Gram was saving for a new day dress. I will start on the dress tonight. Sewing helps pass the time when there’s no one to talk to. I’m excited to see if Jordy will like the new dress. The fabric is green. Gram says green is my color. Maybe I can buy a new bonnet to match the dress.
There is no time left in the day to sweep the trading post for Master Burgess. I will need more matches to sell and extra work once my coin pouch is light again. I have a bundle of matches back at the cottage, but the only match I have on my person is the one in my chemise that belonged to Gram. No one thus far has come to me for healing, so I may have to find another means of survival in the coming days. But that is of no consequence. I am alone now. My life is mine to provide and care for. No one will miss me when I’m not at the cottage. The thought crushes my heart.
There’s still time to see Jordy before curfew. He’ll not believe that I earned ten bits in a single day. I dangle the empty basket down by my side, feeling most accomplished. I am almost to the bakery and stop when I see them. Jordy is standing outside of the bakery, and Treena is standing in front of him. It looks as though they are making pleasantries, but Jordy keeps glancing inside the bakery like he’s in a hurry. I step a little closer. Maybe she is keeping him from his duties. She’s leaning in so he can get a full view of her bosom if he so pleases. It is a disgusting display. I think I shall brave her wrath instead of avoiding her this time. My Jordy needs a rescue, but he will owe me a bushel for this one. I step closer and Treena glances in my direction. She looks back to Jordy and laughs at something he says. She reaches up in one swift motion, clasps his cheeks and tugs his face to hers.
And she kisses him.
Full on the mouth.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t move.
I drop the basket and run toward home as fast as my legs will carry me.
After a couple of streets, I see an empty alley and run to the end of it, my hands hitting the wooden wall, the pain reminding me that I’m still alive. I press my back against the wall and allow my body to slide down it. It’s hard to see past the tears. How could Jordy do this to me? Withher? Out of all the girls in the village, why would he pick Treena to be unfaithful with? He knows the tensions between us, knows how she enjoys torturing me for sport. Is Jordy trying to hurt me? How could he do this to me?
I’ve been trying so hard to climb out of the darkness that’s consumed me since losing Gram. The loneliness has threatened to choke me, suffocate me, snuff me out until I am no longer a thought in anyone’s mind. And in the blackness, when I felt that no one truly needed me, that no one would notice if I vanished into nothingness, I would remember the one soul who would think of me…
My Jordy.
Jordy was the one promise, the one stronghold I held to when I felt like my life was of no consequence, no value. I was his lady, and he recognized my worth. Jordy was mine when I had Gram and mine when I had nothing else. How do I pull myself up again with no handhold?
Nightfall is nearly here. Curfew is looming. I know I should be heading home, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed, broken, nothing. Would the patrol even notice me if I were stumbled upon anyway, or would I simply be as disregarded as the nothing I have become? My logic fights my shattered heart, but I allow the brokenness to win.
Maybe this is my path—the path that has been set before me since birth. I am the child of a mother who sent me away to be raised by my grandmother, never to know her. Never to know my father. Never to know my lineage. I was unwanted. Unloved. Forgotten.
I have been orphaned and betrayed, loved and rejected. I try to stand but fall to the ground again. My heart is crushed and aching. I am the blackness that consumes me. I feel the hot tears that cool as soon as they traverse my cheeks, the cold air bitter and my heart nothing more than a dull ache. I need to be void of thought, void of feeling, but my mind betrays me.
