Seeds of Discovery

by Breeana Puttroff

  She didn’t have much time to decipher what they were talking about. William went back to messing around in the pouch, and for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t the least bit curious about what he was doing.

  The other boy knelt down in front of her. “He sure knows how to make friends, doesn’t he?” He grinned. “I’m Thomas, by the way. I’m Will’s brother. I’m guessing you must be Quinn?” She nodded, unable to wrap her mind around the situation. William had a brother? How did Thomas already know her name? And Will? She had never imagined the stoic William with a nickname.

  Thomas withdrew a metal canteen from William’s backpack, and although she was still feeling like she’d rather crawl under a rock, she let him help take a sip of it. “Good girl,” he said.

  “Sorry,” she said, still embarrassed as she lay back down against her jacket, her queasy stomach finally starting to settle a little.

  Thomas’ eyebrows knitted together. “For what? Hurting yourself? I can’t imagine you did it on purpose. Don’t be sorry, don’t be worried, just let Will finish patching you up, and then we’ll take you home with us.” The way he smiled at her told her that he meant it, which was surprisingly comforting given that she had no idea what he meant by them taking her home with them.

  He poured some of the cold water onto a cloth, and held it against her forehead, which helped even more, but the pleasant feeling was quickly interrupted by a freezing, wet sensation on her leg that made her jump. A second later, she caught the scent of rubbing alcohol, and her stomach flipped over again. Her first instinct was to pull her leg away, but Thomas, who had been studying her face rather intently, placed his hand gently, but firmly, against the top of her calf, securing her leg to the ground.

  “I know, sweetheart, but that’s not going to help. I need you to hold still for a minute. Take a deep breath and focus on something else.” Normally, she would have been irritated at being held down, and at being called sweetheart by some boy she’d just barely met, a boy who was younger than she was, but somehow Thomas put her at ease immediately.

  Thinking about anything except how humiliating this was, she inhaled deeply and tried to concentrate on the alternating pattern of light and dark green stripes on the sleeve of her shirt. It almost worked, but she lost her focus and winced at the sharp pinch of the needle. Thomas used his free hand to squeeze her fingers gently until the sting of the anesthetic subsided a little, and she managed to exhale.

  “Sorry, honey,” Thomas said, “this wasn’t what you signed up for, was it?”

  She shook her head, grateful that at least she hadn’t cried on top of everything else. “I don’t remember signing up for any of this. Is he finished?” The nausea was starting to come back; she could feel the green seeping back in at the edges of her temples.

  Thomas chuckled, though he looked concerned. “Not yet.” He turned to William. “Will, stop for a second. Do you have any valoris seed in your bag?”

  William nodded, putting down the syringe and tossing the leather pouch to Thomas. He kept applying pressure to the wound, but looked up at Quinn. “You doing okay?” he asked, surprising her with the gentleness in his voice. The lightheadedness was back in full force, but she managed a weak, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh; I believe you.” Thomas’ smile was wide, and his gray eyes sparkled with friendliness. “I do something to myself that requires stitches about every other moon.” He grinned kindly at her, rooting through the leather pouch. “I don’t like this part, either. The numbing medicine is the worst bit, I promise. Do you want me to give you something that will help? It’s magic stuff.”

  Although she had no idea what he meant, she nodded, grateful for the kind and soothing presence of this boy. A moment later, she felt something powdery and slightly sweet on her tongue. Almost instantly, she started to feel calmer and her thoughts grew a little fuzzy.

  “Better?” Thomas asked, after a minute. She nodded again; the nausea was dissipating, too – although the lightheadedness might have been getting a bit worse. “Good. You should see Will when he’s the one on the other end of something sharp and pointy,” he added, grinning.

  The look that William shot Thomas then made her smile in spite of herself. Then, William shocked her again by directing a look at her that was purely sympathetic, his eyes briefly even kinder than Thomas’. Maybe she only imagined it though; suddenly she couldn’t really focus on anything.

  “Is it starting to get numb?” William asked. She nodded, although the motion didn’t feel quite like it was supposed to. She almost reached up to see if her head really was floating away from her shoulders. “I’m almost done with this part, and then it won’t hurt anymore.” William said as he went back to work, his voice softer than she’d imagined it could be.

  There was another pinch on the other side of her wound, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. She didn’t know if it was the powder that Thomas had given to her, but she didn’t feel right at all.

  “Quinn?” Thomas’ voice was alarmed. “Quinn?”

  7. The Castle

  Quinn woke up feeling disoriented, unsure of where she was. For a moment, she thought she was in her own bed, in her own room on Saturday morning, waking slowly after a bizarre dream. As she became more lucid, however, she realized that was not the case.

  She opened her eyes. It was a bedroom; she was lying in a large, four-poster bed, underneath a thick white comforter. The pillow under her head was incredibly soft. She was too comfortable to move right away.

  A small old-fashioned lamp burned on the table next to her, giving the room a dim glow. She was facing a large window, covered with heavy, brocaded curtains. No light seeped around any edge of them. She turned her head to get a view of the rest of the room.

  “Quinn! You’re awake.” The voice startled her, making her jump. Her heart racing once again, she looked up into the familiar, kind face of Doctor Nathaniel Rose. All at once, the night’s events came rushing back to her, and she struggled to sit up.

  “Quinn, please be careful,” Dr. Rose put his hand on her shoulder, gently preventing her from rising.

  “What... Why... Where am I?” she demanded.

  Dr. Rose looked uncomfortable. “I’m afraid that’s rather... complicated. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

  She paused, trying to feel herself out. “N...no, I don’t think so. My head feels a little fuzzy, but it doesn’t hurt. My throat is pretty dry.”

  “Here,” he helped her to a sitting position, propped up against several more of the soft pillows before handing her a glass of water from the small wooden table next to her.

  “Thanks.” She sipped at the water for a long moment before adding, “My leg does feel kind of strange.”

  “Yes, well your leg will probably be a bit numb for another hour or two. William had to put in a few stitches.”

  She set the heavy glass back down on the table before pulling back the thick white-and-gold duvet that covered her. At some point, her ruined jeans and green-striped pullover had been replaced by a long white nightgown.

  Her cheeks grew pink as she wondered who had done that – hopefully not William. She lifted up the ruffled hem and found it, a neat little white cotton square secured with medical tape, on the inside of her right leg, just a couple of inches above her ankle.

  “Doesn’t look scary enough to have caused all this trouble, does it?” She blinked up at Dr. Rose’s gentle smile. “William said it was pretty deep, though. You must have fallen just wrong on one of the bushes by the bridge. He found a small chunk of wood in there when he went to stitch it up.”

  She started to feel a little lightheaded again – maybe she didn’t need so many details. “What did Thomas give me – that made me sleep?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Valoris seed powder. It comes from a plant that grows here. Generally it just helps someone relax, and dulls pain a bit. The reaction you had to it was very rare. I think it may have affected you more because of the sh
ock you’d just experienced.”

  “How long was I asleep?” She was suddenly worried about what else she might have missed.

  “Only a little over an hour.”

  A soft knock at the door just then distracted them both.

  “How is she doing, Master Rose?” a soft voice drifted over from the doorway.

  “Come on in, Mia. Our little patient is awake.” His voice was as warm and friendly as ever.

  A short, slender young woman entered the room. Quinn guessed she was probably around her own age, sixteen or so. Her long, thick, midnight-black hair was pulled back into a neat French braid. A starched white apron covered the simple navy blue dress she wore. Her bright green eyes were cheerful and friendly underneath her thick eyelashes. A sprinkling of freckles dotted her rosy cheeks. She carried a brown wicker basket full of freshly folded laundry.

  “Mia, this is Quinn, our guest. And Quinn, I would like you to meet Mia. Mia is one of the most esteemed members of our housekeeping staff.” The maid’s bright cheeks flushed even pinker at the doctor’s compliment.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Quinn,” she said cheerfully, setting the basket down on a fluffy white ottoman. “I washed your shirt for you. I am afraid the pants had seen their last day. I’ve brought some more clothes so you will have things you need in your cupboard, and some fresh underthings you might like to have as well. Is the sleeping gown all right? I know it’s not really the style where you are from. We could have some sleeping tops and bottoms made for you instead, if you would rather. That’s what Master William’s sisters have taken to wearing these days.”

  Quinn’s eyes were wide by the end of Mia’s rapid speech. Mia now stared at her expectantly, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “I, uh … the nightgown’s fine,” she finally stammered. “Thank you.” She wasn’t going to put someone to the trouble of making new pajamas for her for one night. She was so relieved to realize that she was still wearing her own underwear that she wasn’t bothered at all by the frilly nightgown. For all of its ruffles, it was incredibly soft. It would be okay for tonight.

  “It’s been a long evening for you Quinn,” Dr. Rose said pointedly, concern on his face. “You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?”

  Now that he mentioned it, she was starving. “Yes, I suppose I am,” she answered him.

  “I’ll bring up a tray right away Miss!” Mia disappeared through the door almost instantly.

  Dr. Rose turned his warm smile back to Quinn. “I’m guessing you might also like a few moments to yourself?”

  She nodded; she was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. More than a bit, even.

  “Let me help you up, you can move around a bit, and take care of any needs you might have,” Dr. Rose said, placing his hand underneath her elbow.

  Putting weight on her leg wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier when she was walking with William. After a couple of stiff steps, she was feeling much more like herself.

  “There’s a bathroom just in there.” Dr. Rose pointed to a heavy wooden door at the far corner of the room. “Mia’s been busy making sure it’s stocked with just about anything you could need. I’ll give you a little while and then I’ll bring some ibuprofen after you’ve had your dinner. Your leg will probably be pretty sore once the numbness wears off.”

  She nodded, unsure of what else to say, and Dr. Rose disappeared through the door, leaving her alone in the room.

  She took a deep breath, relieved to have a few minutes to think without having to talk to someone and answer questions. A thousand questions swirled around in her head like a tornado.

  The room she was in was large and beautiful. Dark wood paneling extended halfway up the walls, and the top half was covered in some kind of rich gold-and-white fabric that matched the duvet on the enormous four-poster bed. Near the window were a table and two soft armchairs. In the middle of the room stood an overstuffed white couch with a low coffee table in front of it.

  Someone had recently placed a vase of fresh flowers in the middle of that table. She could not identify the dark violet blooms. The pale, gold carpeting was thick and soft underneath her feet. Pressing need drove her quickly to the door in the corner that Dr. Rose had pointed out a moment ago.

  The bathroom was every bit as lavish as the bedroom to which it was connected. There were piles of fluffy towels lying on the marble counter tops surrounding both the large sink and the deep bathtub.

  After taking care of her immediate needs, she investigated the rest of the preparations that Mia had made for her. She found a long, thick bathrobe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, and a pair of fuzzy white slippers on a low shelf along the back wall. In the long, shallow woven baskets that sat on the shelves under the sink, she found a new hairbrush, comb, and ponytail holders.

  There was also a toothbrush, and an odd little tube filled with what looked and smelled like toothpaste. Every item she encountered left her with more questions. Much care had been taken in the preparations for her night in this room. Most surprising, next to the basket of washcloths, Quinn discovered a small, brown glass bottle.

  Curious, she pulled the stopper from the top. She gasped as the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla filled the room.

  After the night’s adventures, she felt grubby, and the deep marble bathtub looked very inviting. Her hand was almost on the gold tap when she realized that she hadn’t asked Dr. Rose if it would be okay to get her stitches wet or not. She shuddered thinking about it; the last thing she wanted was to have to have them replaced. She was grateful for the small size of her injury and its discreet location. How would she have ever explained stitches to her mother? She sighed and headed instead for the sink.

  Twenty minutes later, when she emerged from the bathroom as clean as she could get herself, she noticed small changes in the room. The laundry basket had disappeared, and the bed looked as though she’d never been in it. She looked all around the room, but didn’t see anyone in there with her. On the small table by the window, she discovered a covered silver tray and a matching pitcher, dripping with condensation. She was about to pull the cover off the tray when she was interrupted by the sound of a knock and then the door opening.

  “Quinn? Okay if I come in?” Thomas didn’t wait for her to respond before coming the rest of the way into the room. He carried a smaller covered tray in his hand, and wore the same sparkling smile she had seen earlier.

  “Um, sure… Thomas.” He was already in; did she have a choice?

  “I brought you something.” His grin grew even wider. “One of our cooks, Cassie, makes the most amazing chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted.” He set his tray on the small table, and turned back to her. Though he was still smiling, his eyes looked concerned again. “You doing okay?”

  “Much better now, thanks.”

  “You had us worried there for a minute; that’s a pretty rare reaction to have from valoris seed. I wouldn’t have given it to you if...”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it’s better for me that it did. I’m okay now.”

  “How’s the leg?”

  “It’s better, I think. I still can’t really feel it.”

  “Will’s good at stitching. You’ll be good as new in no time.”

  Although she’d been calm since she’d woken up, her curiosity over the new environment overriding her fear and uncertainty, Thomas’ laid-back attitude about the whole thing sent her reeling again. Irritation washed over her like a tidal wave. “Explain to me please, how, exactly, a seventeen-year-old kid is ‘good at stitching’?”

  Her outburst didn’t appear to faze Thomas. “I suppose that’s not really normal where you’re from, is it?”

  “And that’s another thing, where am I?” The stress of the situation and the strangeness of the night’s events were really starting to get to her now.

  “William didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

  “He said ‘this is my real home’ like I should have already known that.
And then he started poking needles into me.”

  Thomas looked like he was restraining himself from laughing aloud. “Sounds like Will,” he said.

  “So, WHERE. AM. I?”

  Thomas cleared his throat. “You,” he began, “are in Rosewood Castle.”

  She stared at him.

  “Not helpful?” Thomas wondered.

  “No, not exactly.” So she was inside the castle they’d seen. That explained her opulent surroundings. “How did I get to Rosewood Castle?”

  “On my horse?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I think you know that’s not what I mean.”

  “You followed Will through the gate from your world into ours.”

  “What does that even mean? How...” she trailed off, not even sure what question she meant to ask.

  “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? There’s a big uproar downstairs. You, my lady, are quite the mystery to everyone. They’re all trying to understand how you got here. Nobody from your world has ever just followed someone through the gate before.” His grin still hadn’t faded. Despite the obvious confusion surrounding him, he clearly found this entertaining.

  “And,” he continued, “you haven’t even touched your dinner. The food that’s prepared in honor of William’s homecomings is not something you want to miss.” He sat down in one of the two chairs at the little table and lifted the silver lid from the platter. “Join me, will you?”

  She eyed him skeptically. “Will you explain to me what’s going on here if I do?”

  He seemed amused. “Suit yourself; it’s getting cold.” Smiling, he dipped a silver fork into a steaming pile of mashed potatoes, waving it near her face. The food smelled amazing, and she was starving.

  She sighed, and sat down in the chair opposite Thomas, grabbing the fork from his hand.

  He smiled. “Much better.” It was odd, how comfortable she already was with him. He felt like an old friend rather than someone she’d met only hours ago - in a strange world. A strange world?

  “So let me get this straight, I somehow followed your brother into a different world?”