realize why. They were in the front room of a shop. There was a sturdy counter running half the length of the room, and the walls were lined with shelves of clay pots and jars. A dusty wooden table was littered with pestle and mortar, brass scales, small wooden bowls, and an open box of tinder and flint. A large welcoming hearth comprised the center of the south wall.
“This way,” Jaromir said, and he led them behind the counter and through a set of swinging doors into a storage area. “There’s a large bedroom through there,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “but the best is out here.”
He opened the back door of the shop and held it for Céline to see outside. She drew in anothersharp breath, and Amelie looked over her shoulder at the remnants of what had once been a thriving herb garden.
Divided into eight large separate beds, the herbs were now either overgrown or dying from lack of care: cumin, fennel, mint, lovage, sage, rue, savory, foxglove, pennyroyal, rosemary, lilies, and roses…Amelie lost count. Faded red poppies lined the back fence, and an apple tree graced one corner.
Céline stepped out and knelt down in what was left of the foxglove patch. “Many of these plants are still alive,” she said. “This could be brought back to its former state.”
Céline had always loved herbs. She loved healing. But this was cruel, letting Céline sit like that in someone else’s herb garden when her own was lost.
“Why did you bring us here?” Amelie demanded of Jaromir. “Why would you show this to her?”
“Because the owner’s dead,” he answered. He was standing so close she could see all the soft hairs of his goatee, and she backed up. “He died last summer,” he went on, “and we’ve had no apothecary since. Ownership reverted to the prince, but the place has been standing empty.”
Céline’s eyes were sad. “Lieutenant, I hope you don’t think we can purchase this place from your prince. We’ve no money hidden away.” She sighed. “At present, this dress is all I have left to my name.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m well aware youlost everything last night. But the prince has given me leave to offer this shop to you if you can solve a problem for us.”
Amelie stepped around him. “Offer us the…you mean let us live here, as members of his own people?”
Céline stood up, equally shocked.
This was a prosperous community, and the people here had goods to trade and money to spend…and daughters who’d be begging Céline to read their futures, daughters with coins in their purses.
And the shop was perfect, far superior to their old home. This was too good to be true. But nothing like this came easily. Amelie crossed her arms over the top of her canvas jacket. “Exactly what problem does he want us to solve?”
Céline listened with rapt attention, but for once, Jaromir didn’t look even mildly amused. He’d gone deadly serious.
“I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.” He paused. “And I warn you, the sight isn’t pretty.”
That didn’t sound good.
But Céline looked around at the large, neglected herb garden and then up at the beautifully stained wooden exterior of the shop. “Show me.”
* * *
Céline stood amid countless barrels of ale in a cold-storage room below the castle larder, staring down into what had once been the face of a teenaged girl.
“I warned you,” Jaromir said.
The girl’s body was lying on a table beside two others in the same state. All three had been desiccated—shriveled down to skin and bones. Two were dressed in fine gowns, but the third wore plain homespun. Their long hair was spread around them. As a healer in a village like Shetâna, Céline had seen her share of dead bodies, but she’d never seen anything like this.
“Was it plague?” Amelie whispered, standing beside her.
“No,” Céline answered, and some of the numb feeling from the night before was returning to her hands. She needed time to
“This way,” Jaromir said, and he led them behind the counter and through a set of swinging doors into a storage area. “There’s a large bedroom through there,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “but the best is out here.”
He opened the back door of the shop and held it for Céline to see outside. She drew in anothersharp breath, and Amelie looked over her shoulder at the remnants of what had once been a thriving herb garden.
Divided into eight large separate beds, the herbs were now either overgrown or dying from lack of care: cumin, fennel, mint, lovage, sage, rue, savory, foxglove, pennyroyal, rosemary, lilies, and roses…Amelie lost count. Faded red poppies lined the back fence, and an apple tree graced one corner.
Céline stepped out and knelt down in what was left of the foxglove patch. “Many of these plants are still alive,” she said. “This could be brought back to its former state.”
Céline had always loved herbs. She loved healing. But this was cruel, letting Céline sit like that in someone else’s herb garden when her own was lost.
“Why did you bring us here?” Amelie demanded of Jaromir. “Why would you show this to her?”
“Because the owner’s dead,” he answered. He was standing so close she could see all the soft hairs of his goatee, and she backed up. “He died last summer,” he went on, “and we’ve had no apothecary since. Ownership reverted to the prince, but the place has been standing empty.”
Céline’s eyes were sad. “Lieutenant, I hope you don’t think we can purchase this place from your prince. We’ve no money hidden away.” She sighed. “At present, this dress is all I have left to my name.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m well aware youlost everything last night. But the prince has given me leave to offer this shop to you if you can solve a problem for us.”
Amelie stepped around him. “Offer us the…you mean let us live here, as members of his own people?”
Céline stood up, equally shocked.
This was a prosperous community, and the people here had goods to trade and money to spend…and daughters who’d be begging Céline to read their futures, daughters with coins in their purses.
And the shop was perfect, far superior to their old home. This was too good to be true. But nothing like this came easily. Amelie crossed her arms over the top of her canvas jacket. “Exactly what problem does he want us to solve?”
Céline listened with rapt attention, but for once, Jaromir didn’t look even mildly amused. He’d gone deadly serious.
“I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.” He paused. “And I warn you, the sight isn’t pretty.”
That didn’t sound good.
But Céline looked around at the large, neglected herb garden and then up at the beautifully stained wooden exterior of the shop. “Show me.”
* * *
Céline stood amid countless barrels of ale in a cold-storage room below the castle larder, staring down into what had once been the face of a teenaged girl.
“I warned you,” Jaromir said.
The girl’s body was lying on a table beside two others in the same state. All three had been desiccated—shriveled down to skin and bones. Two were dressed in fine gowns, but the third wore plain homespun. Their long hair was spread around them. As a healer in a village like Shetâna, Céline had seen her share of dead bodies, but she’d never seen anything like this.
“Was it plague?” Amelie whispered, standing beside her.
“No,” Céline answered, and some of the numb feeling from the night before was returning to her hands. She needed time to
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