Kenna
Cleo, the wife, mother, and matriarch of the property where Evander and I fell through the sky into their chicken coop, sets a huge clay platter on the kitchen table–an old, gnarled table graying with age and wear–and smiles brightly as she lifts the lid. Fragrant steam wafts into the air as roast chicken and an assortment of vegetables come into view.
I’m starving and still riding a high from jumping for the first time. I honestly can’t believe I did it.
But now we’re in Eastonia, and we’re so far away from the Roguelands that neither of us can mind-link with our families back home.
So, we’re stuck. For the meantime, at least. I don’t mind in the slightest.
We’ve been here for several hours. Cleo immediately took me inside their cozy home and found me a change of clothes–her youngest son’s shirt and pants that are so long I had to cuff the sleeves and roll up the pants by several inches–but I’m warm, and my body isn’t as broken as I thought.
My back is sore from breaking through the roof. My mind is a little hazy from the events of the last few hours. I haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that we almost died by launching a car into the water and that I had to be escorted into hiding in the first place.
Also, I’m with Evander. I’m with Evander, essentially alone, for the first time in years.
I wordlessly watch Cleo fix me a plate. She smiles as she sets it in front of me.
I thank her and look out the window overlooking one of her many sprawling gardens and can just see the chicken coop. Her sons are on the roof, inspecting the damage.
And Evander and her husband, Neiman, are off doing… something. Something, I assume, has to do with finding a way down to the Roguelands from here.
“Do you like tea?” Cleo asks as she sets a kettle on the stovetop.
“I do.”
“Dark, light, floral?” she asks, reaching for the cabinet above the stove where an assortment of glass jars house a TON of herbs.
“Uhm, floral,” I whisper, but my attention is on the sheer amount of jars–on the tiny ones, especially, no bigger than my thumb. Before I can stop myself, I’m standing on my tiptoes beside her, pulling down a jar of dried, dark green berries.
“I’ve never seen these in real life,” I tell her, meeting her sharp hazel eyes.
She inspects my expression for a moment. “I grew them.”
“That’s impressive,” I reply, pulling the cork from the jar and sniffing deeply.
“Do you know what they’re used for?” She turns from the stove and fetches a stool, walking it back to where I’m standing.
I drop a single berry in my palm and turn it over, marveling at it, shocked that I’m actually holding one. It has a waxy sheen to it and leaves an oily residue in the palm of my hand.
She takes a few other jars down, all of the contents more interesting than the last.
“Hunter berries are used for… healing.”
“In some cases,” she whispers, glancing at me before going back to arrange the herbs on the counter. “What else?”
I watch her closely. The average household in Eastonia would have teas, spices, and an assortment of healing herbs, sure, but this?
“They’re also used in the cure for the occulence curse that turns people into rogues by force.” I swallow. I can almost taste the berry, as if its powers are sinking into my skin.
“How is the cure made?”
“Bloodbane, taro root dkin, and moonstone dust are crushed with two hunter berries and steeped in a tea, with a pinch of the blood of the afflicted,” I rattle off, digging deep to remember my yearlong study in the Dark Arts, curses specifically. “To be drunk hourly, for three days. The afflicted blood curse will resolve a week after that with continued care….” I close my eyes, trying to remember. “It takes ten days for an occulence curse to resolve with treatment, and after that, a single hunter berry per month on the full moon will prevent the afflicted from turning back into a rogue when they shift.”
“Very good.” Cleo smiles, her eyes meeting mine as she opens a jar of something sticky and rather stinky.
Stems coated in a silver, pungent oil drop into my palm.
“Silvervain.”
“Good.”
Another jar opens.
“Severfell.”
“Good. And this?”
I sniff deeply, the smell coating and briefly numbing my nose. “Wolfsbane, of course.”
She grins. “Gotta be careful with that one.”
I smile, too.
But then I take another look around. I see her mortars, her jars of steeping tea, and tonics. “You’re a healer,” I say, and she nods.
“I’m not a witch, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“You have witch herbs, though.”
“I just have a green thumb and enough time on my hands to try to grow as much as I can,” she replies as she closes all of the jars. “And Tiscoln isn’t known for their healing, that’s for sure. We don’t have a coven nearby. No witches for hundreds of miles.”
In the distance, I hear the echo of a hammer. I wince.
“Evander and I can fix the roof. It was our fault.”
“You weren’t climbing on the roof like he said, were you?”
I feel like Cleo has uncanny abilities of sight despite being full shifter.
“No… I’m… well, what do you know of my family?” It can’t be much, given that these people live in villages not even marked on the maps I’ve studied in my dad’s office.
She motions for me to sit, and I do. I take a few bites of my food while she watches with a smile, then turns to pour the tea she started while I was staring in the cabinet. “Our people left during the beginning of King Kane’s reign. That must have been… two hundred years ago, now. He wasn’t the first King of Eastonia. There were a few before him, all worse than the last, and some folks scattered into this mountain range rather than fall prey to the kings. What I know of your family, Princess Kenna, is simply… rumors. Your mother is a Firestone Queen, which our people have been waiting for, but they are weary and superstitious. So, if your mother is a Firestone, I’m assuming you have her same gifts.”
I nod. “My dad is a Shadowsynger, too.”
“Oh,” she smiles. “I didn’t realize there were any left. Old magic, you know. From a time before the veil.”
I take another bite of food as she sets a cup of tea in front of me. I mumble a thanks around a mouthful, but she doesn’t seem to mind my terrible manners right now. I’m famished, and this is the best roast chicken I’ve ever had in my life.
“My dad can do this thing where he disappears and appears somewhere else. My mom can, too. But I’ve never been able to do it until this morning.”
I go on to explain to this nearly complete stranger how I used my powers to spirit us back to Eastonia. We’re lucky to be alive, honestly. The first time my mom did this, she nearly destroyed the castle in Veiled Valley.
And the fact I was able to jump this far is… astronomical. Impossible, really.
I’m still buzzing with pride.
I just have no idea how to do it again to get us home.
The door leading into the kitchen garden opens, and Neiman darkens the doorway, followed by Evander, who looks severe. He’s still in the plain clothes–athletic joggers and a black shirt–that he wore on the not-so-secret failed mission to get me to the port.
Evander’s eyes sweep over me, looking for any traces of harm.
My heart aches at the concern behind his eyes, but then I remember I’m nothing more than a mission to him. I’m his charge, just like he said.
I look down at my food as the men come inside. Neiman whispers something to his wife and walks through an archway into the depths of the house I haven’t been given a tour of.
I don’t think we’re welcome guests despite Cleo’s kindness.
Through the windows, the sun is beginning to set. It’s probably only midday in Crescent Falls, however.
“Kenna, come,” Evander says, but his eyes are narrowed on Cleo.
I look down at my unfinished food.
“She’s safe here,” Cleo says hotly. “Let her at least finish her meal before you boss her around like she’s nothing but chattel.”
Evander’s nostrils flare.
I take another bite, watching the exchange through my lashes.
“I have guest rooms set up upstairs–”
“We’re not staying. We have a two-week-long journey to the nearest village in the Roguelands–”
“Stay for a night, at least. Please. There’s a storm rolling in, and you’ll have to seek shelter overnight anyway, and the people of Tiscoln won’t be nearly as friendly as we are.” Cleo’s words are laced with ice that works its way down my spine.
I look at Evander. I can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes as he decides what to say next. He’s always been like that. Every word he says is well thought out before he says anything at all.
“We’ll sleep outside.”
“Outside?” Cleo and I exclaim in unison.
Evander looks at me, holding my gaze. I feel the intensity of it in the marrow of my bones. He doesn’t want me saying anything right now.
He’d probably be livid to know I just told Cleo I could jump, and made it very, very clear I have a profound knowledge of herbs, potion recipes, and curses.
I chew my lower lip as the tension in the room falls over us like a wet blanket.
I should say something. I know I should. But being around Evander makes me nervous in a way I didn’t expect. He’s… different now. Handsome and imposing. And the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m very small and insignificant.
It’s a horrible feeling.
I swallow my last bite of food and stand. Cleo looks at me with sympathy in her eyes as I thank her for the food once more.
But Evander doesn’t move toward the door when I do.
“We’ll sleep in the coop, which is about as much hospitality as we deserve,” he begins. “I’ll spend the rest of the evening fixing the roof before we leave… in the morning.”
Cleo heaves a breath and waves a hand, motioning for us to wait. She disappears into a side room and returns with bedrolls and an oil lantern. “Sleep in the shed attached to the coop if you’re serious about making the Princess of Eastonia sleep outside tonight,” she huffs, thrusting the bedrolls into Evander’s waiting arms.
He doesn’t even thank her for them.
I follow him out to the shed in question. Dust lifts in the air as he opens the door and steps inside.
“You could have thanked her, you know. Instead of being a total asshole.”
Evander looks at me over his shoulder in surprise. “I’ve never heard you cuss before.”
The shed door slams behind me, and I flinch. “I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl anymore. I grew up, Evander. I cuss… sometimes. I’m tougher than I used to be. You don’t need to treat me like a child.”
“Tougher? You were crying at the ball last night.”
I meet his eyes. Holes in the shed roof let in a little bit of light, though not enough to see him fully. But it’s enough to see the hard look behind his eyes.
Fury I hadn’t known I was capable of comes bubbling to the surface, and I can’t shove it down, no matter how hard I try. Unlike Evander, I rarely think before I speak, so I say, “I know you hate me, but we’re stuck together right now. You need to be nice to these people. They’re kind. They offered us a place to stay–”
“We don’t know them at all, Kenna. You’ve always been far too trusting–”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
We stare at each other for several seconds.
I push, “You left and never came home. You don’t get to tell me who I am and what I’m capable of. You especially don’t get to make fun of me for–for crying at the ball, of all things. We could’ve died t-today..” Tears sting my eyes. “I don’t want to be here with you anymore than you want to be here with me.”
“Kenna–”
I storm out of the shed.
He, unfortunately, follows.