The delicate woman’s voice carried through the breeze like the sound of birds chirping in the wind, both far away from and all around Siofra as she sat in the greenhouse.
“To find true love muddle the petals of a pink rosebud in a dish of milk and sugar under the light of a new moon.” Siofra scribbled furiously in her notebook.
“And then what, Daphne? Add the hair of a horse born at midnight in the third stall of the stable of a barn built in an odd numbered year?” Siofra almost missed the hint of a sly smile as the voice continued on seemingly amused.
“Laugh now but separately each of these ingredients might help you determine your fate, sweet child. It’s up to you to know.” Siofra nodded solemnly. Normally she was hungry for knowledge and soaked up every last word Daphne breathed. For everything Andre knew, Daphne had the knowledge that Siofra couldn’t explain. If Daphne hadn’t started whispering to her the former queen would have surely gotten away with murdering Siofra as expediently and cleanly as the former queen had murdered Siofra’s father. For all Daphne knew, she seemed truly blase about the duties a young, unmarried, orphan regent had ahead of her.
“I suppose it would be prudent to manifest feelings of love for my husband once I find out who he is. Andre has allowed a potential suitor to begin his journey to the castle. So this may prove useful sooner rather than later.”
“Vindel? Andre will never open the gates for someone with so many -” Daphne paused to hiss - “scars”.
Siofra chuckled softly to herself. “Emotional or physical?”
Daphne’s voice floated above Siofra’s shoulder and became almost imperceptible. “Both taste sweet on the right man’s lips, child. You’ll find out soon enough.”
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As Daphne’s voice faded out on the wind, Siofra awoke with a bolt in her bed to find she was decidedly not in her bed. Her journal strewn out on the floor with some blankets and pillows she had dragged there the night before. Hemlock tea sitting by the bedside in a shallow pool at the liquid from her clumsy attempts to set it down the night before. Everything from the day before came rushing back to her. The letter, the festival, and, for better or worse, the long islands. The more she remembered, the more her head began to pound. Siofra pulled out her medicine kit and began mixing things together.
Hyskaria was undoubtedly caring for Vindel by this point assuming that he hadn’t recovered. For all she remembered Vindel reacted rather strongly to the drinks, but save for his incessant chatter about sex and love and other things that would make Andre faint from impropriety, seemed fine and as always entwined with Hyskaria. When she first met the pair Siofra couldn’t believe the two. A tiefling and a prince.
Siofra hadn’t been in the world for terribly long, but Andre’s lessons on royalty told her that no real prince would abandon his duty for love. In fact, the entire idea insulted her entire upbringing. She’d never admit it to them now but Siofra took the couple’s blatant happiness as a personal offense at first. Although now the thought of the two often inspired an absent minded smile on her face.
Mint for nausea. Muddle the herb with ginger to soothe the nerves. Rock wouldn’t need anything much either. While Siofra didn’t quite understand Rock or his poison of choice, she assumed he didn’t quite understand her hemlock tea either. Perhaps, he was tolerant of most poisons too. Siofra made a mental note to inquire after him about this. A pinch of Valerian to calm the nerves. She knew that she and Elonthor needed this tincture to calm the pounding in both their heads.
If the drinks affected me, then how in the many realms would he even be able to get out of bed. That sweet poisonable elf.
Her hand combed through the ingredient pouches in her kit in search of sugar, her fingers loosely brushing past a bag of pink rosebuds and her face flushed with at the sudden memory of a spell Daphne taught her ages ago.
Somewhat flustered she pulled out the sugar, to sweeten the medicine and mask the tin-like taste of the valerian. With it popped out a bag of cinnamon. For a moment she paused, trying to remember what Daphne had said about cinnamon years ago. Siofra shook her head as if trying to shake off the thought. Daphne was a geranium and in a completely different kingdom. Elonthor was nearby right then and needed Siofra and she somehow knew it.
Cinnamon tastes great in tea and makes a good stirring implement, nothing more.
Siofra walked to the door stirring the tea and hoping that Elonthor would be pleased to have her company in this moment rather than annoyed at the existence of the world as her books led her to believe he might. She swung open the door lost in her own thoughts when all of a sudden she ran into him. Elonthor was at her door and her sudden shock back to reality from her thoughts left her speechless.
“Good morning, Lady Siofra. I trust you slept well?” Elonthor smiled at her with a kindness that slowed her thoughts. She nodded slowly.
“Better now that you’re here.” She grinned and opened the door a bit wider to invite him in. “Tea?”
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The library in Elegion was home to many books, especially the one upon the higher levels and within the walls of the Castle. He was lucky enough while growing up, to browse the countless texts on past battles that had been carried out, their victories and losses, studies of beasts, other races that existed outside their walls, and among all else, texts that still boggled his mind to this day: those about love, seeking out/finding love.
Most were mere tales, carried to Elegion by wandering bards, none exactly confirmed. But he found them entirely amazing. In all of his years, he never had experienced what love truly was. He’d been told by his mother of very few things when he’d come to her of certain feelings.
“My dear child, it sounds as though you have what they call a ‘crush’,” She would beam at him, and pull him close. “Tell me more about her, I want to know everything.”
She would sit beside him upon his bed as he listlessly went on about the elvish girl in his classes, or one that he had passed upon the cobblestone road to school as he wandered through the market prior, or on an errand. Each time she would listen with a smile. But soon such stories were deemed childish, as he was made to focus upon his military life, and rising in the ranks to join his older brothers and sisters, as well as his mother and father. Love was not commonplace as you grew older, not here anyway.
“It is childish, he is no longer a child. Stop filling his head with silly things such as this!” He recalled his father stating rather flatly to his mother, when he arrived home one evening after shopping the markets. “He must focus, and not be blinded by such desires.”
His heart sank, and he grew cold, dismissive. Though still dreamed of change…though the thoughts of love, or even finding someone to fill such a void, were placed far back in the reaches of his mind.
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He blinks quietly down at Siofra, his form seemingly looming over the tiny female. His brow furrows upon her greeting as his head tilts to the side, as if attempting to understand what she meant by her being ‘better now that he was there’.
“I am…unsure as to what you mean by that…Lady Siofra,” He states quietly, before pursing his lips into a fine line, and peered past her, looking within her room. It seemed rather quaint, and for some reason, the scents and smells within while it reminded him of an alchemist’s lab, it also reminded him of home? Which garnered a rather comforting feeling within him.
‘Better now that you are here’, he ran the statement within his mind a few more times, thinking back to the texts he’d read and there was a strange and taken aback look upon his face when it had finally clicked. He blinked rather quickly, looking back down towards Siofra, who still holding the cup of tea up towards him, seemed as though she was standing upon her tiptoes just so that he would take it.
There was a slight hint of pink upon his cheeks as she’d opened her door just a bit more in order to invite him in. Reaching down, he would take the cup from her, as gently as he could manage. “Tea? I– uhm…that does sound…rather nice, yes. Thank you.” The scent of the tea wasn’t at all common to him as he brought it up to his lips, but she was a cleric after all, so there was no way it would…harm him? He hesitated a moment, and entered her room, taking a sip from the cup.
Honi scampered up the steps directly after his master, entering Siofra’s room, but not after the wolf had attempted to lick Siofra’s face a few times. Prancing happily after his master, he would find a place that was suitable enough for him to lay down, and sprawled out upon the floor.
Elonthor peered further about the room, to and fro, eyes quickly scanning the environment before he looked back to Siofra, rather embarrassed. “Ah, apologies.” His ears seemed to droop just a hair, as if he were an animal that had done something wrong.
“Thank you for…the tea, Lady Siofra. If I might ask, what type of tea is it? It is…rather good, and soothing. And another question, if you would allow me to ask? How are you feeling this morning? I pray better than I, as it seems I defecated some of the vile ale I had consumed last evening.” He makes a rather sour face a that, as he recalls the bucket he’d moved out into the hall when he awoke.
