by Carol A Park
Then again, if he had been an obvious ass, she would never have—
She sucked air through her teeth. That only made her ten times more the fool.
The real question was: What was so wrong with her that she attracted their attention so easily?
A middle-aged woman entered the room from a door in the back of the shop. She held a small bottle of amber liquid, and she held it out to the man, who turned his attention to her instead.
“One thom every morning for a week,” the woman said.
The man jerked his head in acquiescence and pocketed the bottle.
“It could take up to three days to see improvement, so please tell your mother to be patient.” The woman pursed her lips. “More than one thom will not speed along the process and may have ill effects, such as nausea, vomiting, or worse, depending on the dose.”
“Right, right,” the man said, turning away from the counter.
The woman’s eyes narrowed on his back, and she shook her head.
The man paused by Ivana on the way out.
“Da,” he said. “Have we met?”
“No,” she said stiffly.
The man raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and brushed by without further comment.
Ivana closed her eyes and let out a long stream of air.
“May I help you?”
She opened her eyes. The woman had turned to her with a polite smile.
Ivana dropped her arms—and only then did she realize that she had at some point crossed them over herself in spite of her earlier attempt to keep them planted at her side. “Yes. I-I’m here to pick up some supplies that, um, Boden was looking into for me.”
The woman’s eyes swept over her, but it was in the manner of someone trying to determine if they had the right person. She reached under the counter and set a small glass bottle and a leather pouch on it. “Turmeric and dennil root?”
“Yes,” Ivana said, surprised. “That’s it.”
The woman’s smile spread. “You must be Ivana. Boden told me about you. I’m Grania, the owner of this shop.”
Ivana curtsied. “Pleased to meet you, Da,” she murmured, moving forward to take the ingredients and open her coin purse.
“Boden was impressed with your knowledge of our art,” Grania said. “He said you’re an apprentice yourself?”
“Yes, Da.” And that wasn’t really a lie, was it? She was an apprentice of the art, if not of a particular person.
“Very good. I’m happy to take from my personal supplies for another apprentice.” She glanced at Ivana’s coin purse, which Ivana still held open on the counter. “Three selmas, dear.”
Ivana counted out the coins and set them on the counter gently, so as not to recreate the sound that had caused her distress last time.
At that moment, Boden himself walked through the back door. He appeared about to speak, but when he saw Ivana, his eyes lit up. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you back again,” he said.
She didn’t reply, not sure what to say.
“Da,” Boden said, addressing Grania now, “did Dal Leam pick up the tonic for his mother’s cough?”
Grania’s mouth turned downward. “Yes. And I gave him very specific instructions regarding the dose and expected recovery. If he returns before three days complaining it isn’t working or that his mother is vomiting, tell him he should have paid more attention when I was speaking and there will be no refunds.” She sniffed.
One side of Boden’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Should I say it just like that?”
Grania cast him a disparaging glance.
Footsteps thundered from the back of the shop. A moment later, a girl of about thirteen or fourteen flew in through the back door. “Have you seen Annan?” she asked, breathless.
Boden chuckled. “No, why? Have you lost him again?”
The girl muttered under her breath, and then she glanced toward Grania and Ivana in turn. She flushed and curtsied to Ivana. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had a customer.”
“It’s all right,” Ivana said. The girl’s bright eyes and carefree manner reminded her of her sister.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she firmly shoved that thought away. Not now.
“I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” Boden said.
Almost as if in answer to his statement, a shriek and a crash resounded through the still-open door. The girl’s face grew stormy. “Annan!” she shouted, then marched back through.
Grania’s lips pressed together. “Excuse me,” she said, and she followed the girl.
“Sorry about that,” Boden said. “Da Grania’s children… Well, you’ve been lucky so far. They’ve been out both times you’ve been in before now.”
“Are they a handful?”
“They’re a riot,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Her heavy heart couldn’t help but lighten, and she smiled in return.
He glanced out the window of the shop. “Would you be interested in seeing Grania’s workroom? I’m certain she won’t mind.” He hesitated, and then he forged forward. “Perhaps while we’re there, you could show me your work on star-leaf?”
He was so sincere, so halting, she couldn’t refuse.
Her quick trip to pick up a few supplies had turned into an all-afternoon event during which she had almost forgotten why she’d needed to purchase supplies at an apothecary in the first place. Indeed, almost forgotten why she was in Carradon in the first place.
The sun had almost set by the time she returned home. Elidor was waiting for her in the front room, and her memory was abruptly jogged.
“Where were you?” Elidor asked without preamble.
She held up the pouch and bottle. “Getting some ingredients the apothecary didn’t have last time.”
“You were gone almost all day.”
“I…” For some reason, she didn’t want to tell him what she had been doing. Was it any of his business if she had been out…forgetting?
So she just shrugged.
He pressed his lips together. “Is this the same apothecary you went to last time?”
“Well, yes… Hence, why I had to go back to get the ingredients they were out of.”
He didn’t seem to appreciate her cheek. “The next time you are in need of supplies, choose a different apothecary.”
She blinked. “But—”
“There is no need for anyone to become overly familiar with you.”
She met his expressionless eyes, and something in her rebelled. “I’m not the one who kills people for a living.”
“You work for me now, and therefore by proxy you must observe the same caution.”
“The same seclusion, you mean.” She hadn’t been aware of how bitter that notion was until she tasted it in her words just now. She had never been a social butterfly, not like her sister. But the prospect of never having any company other than this cold, unfeeling man and his unobtrusive housekeeper was hardly pleasant.
He frowned. “Would you rather be back on the streets?”
“Do I even have that option anymore?” she shot back.
His eyes narrowed, and his non-reply was answer enough.
“So now I am a prisoner, then,” she said softly.
“You were the one who followed me,” he pointed out. He turned to leave the room, but then paused to throw over his shoulder. “Besides. Where else would you go?”
His words plunged her into a pool of ice-cold water.
Because they were true. She had nowhere else to go, no one she could tell. She was drowning in a world she had damned herself to by every foolish decision she had made that had dropped her at Elidor’s feet, and every decision after.
What had begun as an almost-pleasant day ended as most did, for her.
In blood.
Naive
Ivana sat on the edge of the bed and watched the reflection of Airell in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt and slipped his formal jacket over top of it.
She twi
sted the bed clothes in her hands. “Must you leave so soon?”
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “You know I have a dinner to be at tonight.”
She did know. He had told her that already. But it was always something, some reason he couldn’t stay, some reason he blew into town long enough for a dalliance with her and then had to leave again as quickly as he had come.
“Have you spoken to your father yet?” she asked.
He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m working on it. We’ll be together soon, love.”
He gave her his cockeyed grin, the one that always melted her objections. And with that, he was gone.
She bit her lip, trying to stem the flow of tears before they began. She didn’t want the owner of the house—a friend of his, he had said—to see her crying when she slipped out the back.
She didn’t know what she had done wrong, but he was distant lately. What had begun as a breathless romance, three months later felt as suffocating as the day of the sky-fire, when one hardly dared to breathe until the all-clear had been given by the town militia.
Airell rarely made any effort to please her anymore, as he had at the beginning. Increasingly, rather than loved, she felt…used.
Yet still, every time they were together, he promised. A little longer. A little more set up before broaching the topic with his father. He loved her, after all.
She stood up and tugged on her own dress. Her parents thought she was still at work; she had to get home before they realized she wasn’t. One of these days or nights, someone would realize, and then it would be over.
She couldn’t decide whether that would be a relief or not.
But what would she do then? Would any honorable man want her, now?
No, she thought. Those were horrible thoughts to have. Airell would come through for her. She knew he would. He had promised, and he loved her.
Izel couldn’t have been right. She couldn’t have. Ivana must have done something wrong to cause him to withdraw, but she was afraid to ask him about it, lest he withdraw further.
The tears that she had held back pricked at her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath and drove them off in a flurry of activity.
Ivana sat by the window, worrying at the corner of the cushion on the chair. The corner seam had unraveled, and stuffing was trailing out.
Her monthly cycle was late.
A few days, she could brush off. A week even.
But it had now been two, almost three weeks.
She felt sure enough about it now that she was going to tell Airell that night. Certainly, once he knew she was with child, he would insist upon an immediate marriage to preserve both their reputations.
“Uh-oh. What are you thinking about?”
Ivana jerked her hand back from the cushion. She hadn’t even heard Izel open the door to their room. “Nothing.”
Izel closed the door to the room and plopped down on their pallet. “I know nothing, and that’s not a nothing face.”
Ivana looked out the window. It was none of her business.
“This is about Gan Gildas’ son, isn’t it?”
Ivana whirled to face her, shocked. “What?”
“Oh, come on, Ana. You think I haven’t figured out about your little fling?”
Ivana worked her mouth for a moment. She wanted to deny it, and then to ask how she knew, and for how long, and a thousand other things, but only two words came out. “Mama… Papa?”
“They don’t know.”
Ivana sank back in the chair. “And you won’t tell them, will you?”
Izel gave her a critical look. “How long are you going to let this go on, Ana?”
“Please, Izel. Promise me.”
Izel pressed her lips together. “You know I’m not going to snitch on you. But—”
“We’re going to be married, Izel.”
“What?”
“It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Izel’s mouth dropped open. “Did he tell you that?”
Anger flared in Ivana’s chest at the doubt in Izel’s voice—mostly because it was an echo of her own doubts, the ones she kept trying to silence. “He didn’t tell me that. He asked me, and I accepted, so now we’re engaged.”
Actually, that wasn’t quite how it had happened, as she recalled. But it hardly mattered.
“If you think that man is going to marry you,” Izel said, “you’re only fooling yourself.”
Ivana stood up. “Then you don’t know anything,” she said. “And you won’t until you become a woman.”
Izel stared at her for a moment. Then she pressed her lips together, stood up abruptly, and stormed out of the room.
The words had hurt Izel, and at that moment, Ivana didn’t care. Izel would see.
“Airell,” Ivana said, trying to infuse her voice with a sense of urgency so that he would pay attention to her. “I have something I need to tell you.”
It worked. He stopped unfastening his trousers and raised an eyebrow at her.
Her stomach churned. Why was she so nervous? This was a good thing, right? Yet it still took some effort to get the words out. “I think I may pregnant.”
He stared at her for a moment, his face blank.
That wasn’t the reaction she had hoped for. What was he thinking?
He didn’t leave her wondering for long. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a long stream of air. “Aw, damn.”
Her stomach sank. No, definitely not the reaction she had hoped for. He wasn’t happy. Well, they weren’t married yet. It wouldn’t look good. But she wasn’t far enough along that they couldn’t salvage the situation, if they hurried.
“All right,” he said. “No need to worry. We can deal with it.”
There. That was what she was waiting for.
He went to his jacket and dug his coin purse out of the inside pocket. He shook a handful of setans out of the purse and counted. Then, midway through, he shrugged, poured them back into the purse, and held it out to her.
She took it reflexively but held it tentatively, confused.
“I think there’re about fifty setans in there,” Airell said. “The apothecary in Eleuria can take care of it for you; ask for Patli.” He nodded to the purse in her hand. “That should be plenty to cover the cost.”
She was so confused that the fact that she was holding more setans in her hand than she ever had before in her life didn’t even faze her. Take care of it? “I-I don’t understand. A midwife?”
He looked at the ground for a moment, his jaw twitching, and then he looked up and met her eyes. “No, Ivana. That.” He flicked his hand at her abdomen. “Get rid of it.”
Her stomach dropped to her feet. “Wh-What?”
“Look—I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but this is an inconvenience for me. My father hates bastards. It’s not too late to fix the problem before it becomes a bigger one.”
He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be! “But, Airell,” she said, catching his arm. “If we marry quickly, no one will know. It won’t matter.”
“I’m not ready for that yet,” he said. “Just deal with it.”
“This is our child you’re talking about!”
He shook her off his arm, and when he next met her eyes, there was no hint of the cockeyed smile he saved for her, no warmth, no concern. Instead, he fastened back up his trousers. “I need to go.” And he picked up his jacket and left.
Ivana stared at the door through which he had left, momentarily immobilized.
She put her hand to her stomach. He wasn’t going to marry her, not now, and she was beginning to doubt…
Tears stung her eyes. He didn’t even care.
She couldn’t hide this. This wasn’t a clandestine meeting. This would be very, very apparent within months.
Deal with it.
She swallowed, and the hand that held the coin purse began to tremble. How had this all gone so terribly wrong?
Chapter Seven
The back door to the apothecary’s shop slammed open, and Nessa, one of Da Grania’s children, stood on the threshold, her hands on her hips. “Boden!”
Ivana stepped back in time to allow the girl to pass uninhibited as she marched through the aisle of the shop, clearly intent on finding Boden to give him a tongue-lashing for whatever wound, real or imagined, he had inflicted upon her.
Ivana had been here often enough in the past months that she was barely acknowledged.
In some ways, the apothecary herself, Da Grania, reminded Ivana of her father. She never dispensed an ingredient or tonic without accompanying it with a mini-lesson on its proper storage, use, and disposal. Her enthusiasm for her work infused every interaction Ivana had had with her. That was why, despite Elidor’s directive that she not return, Ivana found herself visiting this shop more often than she ought to. In fact, at times, she found her feet dragging her into the shop even when she didn’t need anything—just to ask questions.
What Elidor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Boden had told her that Da Grania was almost never without an apprentice, and Ivana could believe it. She was obviously the sort of person who would enjoy the opportunity to pass on her knowledge.
Boden, like his mentor, was eager to share his knowledge, and Ivana was eager to learn. She spent many long afternoons during Elidor’s absences in the apothecary with Boden, bent over a box of new ingredients or grinding herbs for no particular reason other than that it was good practice—and she didn’t mind the more pleasant company.
In another life, she might have been in Boden’s place somewhere.
A pang at the knowledge that all of that was lost to her now went through her.
Still. She found herself, with her new studies, for the first time since everything had gone wrong, occasionally enjoying herself.
It almost made spending the bulk of each day in Elidor’s study either researching or experimenting with poisons worth it.
It almost made returning to her dark, lonely room bearable.