“There now,” Papa pulled her into a hug. “I know you meant to help, and I appreciate it. Your magic is a beautiful thing, Romy. I don’t want to make you sad. I only wish to point out that we already have a target on our backs. Let’s not give them any arrows.”
Romy nodded and picked up the rake that had fallen into the dirt. For the next two hours they worked together in silence, both wrapped up in their own minds.
Romy couldn’t help but wonder if the children would have liked her had she been beautiful. One often overlooked a myriad of faults when beauty was involved. However, as she pictured Leon, the village bully, she couldn’t imagine him caring one way or the other.
Leon’s father was the local ruler of their village. It was said that their family was closely related to the king. Romy wasn’t sure if that was true or not. However, Leon acted like he owned everything. So that lead her to believe that maybe the rumor was true.
The villagers flocked to Leon even though he was hardly any older than Romy. It was true that people were a little crazy when magic was involved. Perhaps that is why Leon thought he was better than everyone else—especially Romy.
Parts of her wanted to show him that she too could wield a spell. But that would only lead down a path that Romy didn’t want to go. Leon wasn’t supposed to use magic unless the city elders or the king required it of him.
Their kingdom had firm rules about using magic against another individual, especially if you meant to take away their will or worse, do them harm. Then there were rules that went above what the kingdom could dictate.
Magic itself contained rules, such as, you could not use magic on another magical person. It was because of this that Romy was terrified that Leon might find out that she had magic.
Up until this point, Romy had either pretended his silly spells had worked. Which, according to Papa, took a great deal of excellent acting. Romy smiled to herself. Papa always did have a way of spinning the worst of things into something better altogether.
Leon often ranted and cursed when he thought a spell had gone wrong. The only thing that was wrong was that he had pointed it directly toward her. That didn’t mean he still couldn’t torture Romy. He delighted in placing mud puddles directly in her path. Or snakes right next to her shoe.
The other children would laugh and point fingers. Nobody would go against him. The rest of the children were city dwellers. If the forest folk were the bottom of the food chain, and the people with magic were at the top. The city dwellers came smack dab in the middle. Papa said they were little better than sheep. Always running blindly at whoever was talking loudest. The children often fought for Leon’s attention, only causing him to become more conceited.
It all rather sickened Romy. She just wanted one friend. How unfair was it that Leon had dozens he mistreated, and Romy couldn’t find one?
It saddened Romy far more than she cared to admit. Caught between two worlds, Romy didn’t fit with anyone. After all, to the children of the village Romy was forest folk—little more than a servant.
Looking up, Romy saw an array of autumn colors as the sun began to set over the hills. She found her spirits lifting as she watched the sky deepen. Things would find a way to resolve themselves. There had to be way.
“It’s time to go in, Papa,” Romy said at last.
Papa lifted his head and saw what Romy was pointing to. “I see that it is.” He wiped the sweat that had been clinging to his brow. “How right you are, Romy! Let’s go get us some supper, shall we?”
After gathering the tools and loading the ripened fruit and vegetables into the wheelbarrow, the two set off for home. The small cottage had a bedroom downstairs and a loft that Papa had hung a curtain over so Romy could have some privacy. She loved her little room, and straw bed. Papa allowed her to make sure their home was rodent free, apparently that level of magic was acceptable to him.
“Would you like some stew?” Romy asked as she went over to the fire to check the old iron oven. Thankfully it was nice and warm from the embers of the dying fire. Using a pulley system, she removed the lid and began to prepare them supper.
Once their bellies were full, her cheeks were no longer splotchy, and her eyes were no longer rimmed with red. Papa asked, “Now, no more fretting over it. I wish to know what happened in the village that upset you today.”
Romy sighed, twisting her hands together. “I was almost to the market with the radishes you sent for Mr. Johnson. I was maybe ten steps away when I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise. Someone was preforming magic, and I knew it could only be Leon. I stepped to the right and avoided a cow pie he had placed right where I had been about to walk. But in the effort to avoid Leon, I ran into Mr. Johnson and dropped the basket of radishes.”
Papa winced. “Mr. Johnson can have a fine temper on him. Was that the worst of it?”
Romy shook her head and confessed it all. “Mr. Johnson exploded with anger and curse words, much like you would expect. But it was the children who started to throw things at me while calling me names. Everyone was laughing, the adults and children alike.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go near the place,” Papa said savagely. “They are horrible people that don’t deserve your kindness, Romy.”
“How am I to find a friend if I don’t go near the village? We haven’t seen another family of forest folk for years. They have all left this place.”
Papa’s brows snapped together angrily. “And is it any wonder why? I wish you didn’t insist on selling our vegetables to them. I would wash my hands of the lot of them and be a thousand times happier that I did. Life has no room for idiocy.”
“I tried to ignore them, just like you taught me. But it was too much, I couldn’t control my temper.”
“What did you do?” Papa asked worriedly.
“I didn’t use magic,” Romy added hurriedly. “But I did tell Mr. Johnson that it would be more likely that his old mule would dance a jig than we would be selling him any more radishes. That shut him up—right and tight.”
Papa’s lips twitched. “I would pay good money to see Otis dance a jig. He’s a stubborn old mule.”
“Are you angry, Papa?”
Papa sighed and thought about the words he wanted to say. “I am angry that they hurt you, child. I am sad that they can’t see past the ends of their nose. But I am not upset with you. I only wish that you wouldn’t see yourself through their eyes.”
“I don’t understand,” Romy replied with a frown.
Papa stood from the table and began to clear away the dishes. “I know, Romy. Hopefully some day you will. I will do the dishes. You go on now. Go rest yourself on the porch and see if you can spot a flying star.”
Romy rolled her eyes. “Wishing on stars is for babies, Papa.”
Papa grunted and shooed her outside.
Once Romy was out on the porch, she settled into the swing that Papa had made and began to rock. The night was clear, and the sky lit with thousands of twinkling lights.
As she looked into the sky Romy asked, “Is it too much to want someone of my very own to play with. Someone that will not look at me with disgust. If anyone is listening out there, hear my wish—I wish to have a friend of my very own.”
Romy rubbed her arms. The night had gotten chilly and she didn’t bring her sweater out with her. What she really needed to do was to get some rest. Things would feel better in the morning, they always did. Getting to her feet, Romy turned and entered the house.
Behind her a tiny star shot across the night sky leaving a faint trail of hope behind it.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3-
Five years later.
Romy was careful not to yank on her fishing line as she attempted to reel in her catch. Sitting on the bank of a stream, Romy was barefoot, allowing her toes to cool in the water. She had been sitting there for nearly three hours and had nearly given up.
“Come on, fish,” she whispered softly to herself as she reeled again tipping the pole up and le
aning back onto her elbow.
It seemed that the fish she had nabbed wasn’t going to give up easily. Looking at the way her pole was bending, Romy wondered who would win their battle. The last thing she wanted to do was fix another pole. Papa hated when she used magic, even for little things.
With determination, Romy continued to real in her catch. Just when she could see the slippery scales underneath the fast current, Romy heard the sound of someone crying.
It surprised her so much that she dropped the pole.
“No!” Romy screamed as the fish took off down the stream, her pole bobbing along behind it.
The crying sound abruptly stopped, but it no longer mattered. Romy was now without a fish and a pole. Crankily she got her stockings and shoved her wet feet inside of them, not even bothering to dry off.
If this was one of the City Dweller’s tricks, Romy would be giving them a piece of her mind. It was bad enough to bother her in town, but to come into the woods. That was going way too far.
Once her boots were on. Romy went in search of the interloper. Her uneven gait hardly slowing Romy down as she searched.
“Where are you?” she called out angrily.
“Shh,” came the reply. It wasn’t far from where Romy was standing.
Tipping her head to the side, Romy saw that something—no someone—was inside of the rotten log near the stream. Getting down on her haunches, Romy gazed straight into the eyes of a blonde haired, green-eyed girl about her age.
“Who are you?” Romy demanded.
The girl shrank back into her hiding place. “You must be quiet! He will hear you!”
Romy frowned. “Who? I am the only one here.”
“No,” the girl insisted. “My father was chasing me. He was angry. You must be careful!”
Romy wondered if the girl was telling the truth or if she was part of an elaborate ruse to humiliate her. The latter seemed the most likely.
“Look, whoever you are, you can’t stay here. This is my father’s farm. Go find somewhere else to play your games.”
Just as Romy finished demanding the girl leave, she heard a far-off cry.
“Frieda! When I get my hands on you!”
Romy looked at the girl whose face had gone from white to ashen. “I take it you are Frieda?”
The girl nodded. “Please, you need to leave before he gets here. My father, he’s not a nice man.”
Romy could hear the man coming closer to where Frieda was hiding. Deciding that the girl couldn’t be that good of an actress, Romy climbed into the hiding place next to her.
“What are you doing?” Frieda cried impatiently.
Romy rolled her eyes. “Look, my left leg is longer than my right. I could never hope to outrun your father. If he’s the monster you make him out to be. I don’t want to meet him on the path.”
Frieda nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
Romy rarely heard anyone agree with her, let alone apologize to her. “Where are you from?”
The crunch of boots alerted the girls that he was near. Silence descended as the man shouted angrily for his daughter. “You will be sorry, Frieda! You might as well stay away, because when I get my hands on you, you won’t be sitting for a week! Do you hear me?”
Giant tears filled Frieda’s eyes and one by one they slipped over onto her cheeks. Romy stared in wonder at it. When she cried her face turned blotchy and her nose turned into a red beacon.
When Frieda cried it seemed as if she were looking through luminous pools of green. Nobody should be that pretty, Romy decided.
At long last, the man began to retreat from where the girls were hiding. Neither one said a word until it was clear that he had left the area. Romy was the first to move, slipping out of her hiding spot and checking that they were indeed safe.
“He’s gone,” Romy leaned down and motioned Frieda to come out.
Frieda gasped when she saw the stains on her pink gown.
Romy, who was wearing a gunny sack dress she had sown herself, looked down to see similar mud stains staining her clothes. The difference was that Romy could magic them away in the privacy of her loft. It was obvious that whoever Frieda was, she wasn’t magic.
“What is your story?” Romy asked coldly.
Frieda rubbed her arms. “Are you always like this?”
Romy raised a brow. “I have looked like this my entire life.”
“I was not referring to your looks which are perfectly acceptable,” Frieda snapped. “I was talking about your prickly personality.”
Romy, for once in her life, was taken aback. Nobody had ever called her prickly. Nobody really called her anything. She stopped going near the village a long time ago. Maybe she was prickly? “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Frieda shook her head saying, “It doesn’t matter, I need to find a place to sleep tonight. Thank you for hiding with me.”
“Wait,” Romy reached out and caught her wrist before Frieda could leave. “What do you mean?”
Frieda looked away, not meeting her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I can’t go home until my father has slept off his drink. Don’t worry about me, this is nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before.”
“You can’t just sleep in these woods. You aren’t Forest Folk.”
Frieda stepped back breaking their contact. “Oh, is that how it is? I can’t stay here because I am just a City Dweller?”
“No! Yes, I mean, listen. There are things out there, animals that will sense you are not part of the forest. They will attack first, it’s what they do. Where are you from? How do you not know this?”
Frieda’s bravado seemed to fade from her like a balloon losing air. “We are from the capital. I’ve never met anyone from the Forest Folk before. There I could usually find a place to hide away. Will the animals really come for me?”
Romy nodded. She didn’t add that she could place a protection spell on the girl. The last thing she wanted to do was share her magical abilities.
“Romy! Romy!”
They both turned to see Papa coming up the path.
‘There you are. I was wondering if you caught any… oh!”
Frieda moved to cower, but Romy stopped her with a look.
“Papa, this is Frieda, she’s from the capital.”
Papa clearly wasn’t thrilled with the knowledge that they had a City Dweller in their woods.
“Her father was drunk and threatened to hurt her,” Romy said in that forthright way of hers.
Papa’s face softened. “I see.”
“She wanted to stay in the woods tonight,” Romy added.
Papa shook his head saying, “No, it’s too dangerous.”
Frieda looked like she was about to cry again.
Papa let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose she can stay in the loft with you, Romy. But one night only. We can’t get involved in City Dwellers business.”
“Even when they are wrong?” Romy challenged.
Papa stared at his daughter. A look came over him—pride?
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s get some super. We don’t want to miss the stars.”
As they started back along the path, Frieda whispered to Romy, “Thank you.”
Romy not knowing quite how to respond merely nodded. The fishing pole and fish were long forgotten.
Chapter 3
Chapter 4-
The pounding on the door roused Romy from her dreams. Blearily she opened her eyes and looked out the small attic window. Hints of the sun were starting to show in burnt oranges and deep pinks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Romy? Are you home?” The urgency in Frieda’s voice had Romy’s eyes popping open. Not pausing to dress, Romy scrambled down the stairs and wrenched the door open.
Frieda was standing there, shivering from the cold, tears running down her face.
“Come in,” Romy grabbed Frieda’s arm and yanked her inside.
“Is everything alright
?” Papa called out from his bedroom.
“Yes, Papa,” Romy called out.
Frieda was still shaking. Romy wasn’t certain if it was from the cold or from shock. It was clear that something was dreadfully wrong.
“What did he do?”
In the weeks since they have become friends, Frieda’s father had gotten progressively more dangerous to be around. Romy couldn’t even fathom what he had done, but she knew things had to stop.
“Frieda, listen to me. You need to tell me if you are okay.”
Frieda nodded jerkily.
Romy let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she was hiding.
“I got away,” Frieda managed to say. “But he’s coming for me. I think he knows where you live, he’s been asking around town.”
Romy bit her lip. Indecision roiled around inside of her as she contemplated breaking Papa’s only rule. Nobody was ever to know that Romy had magic. But if she could help her friend—save her life—wouldn’t that be worth it?
“There is a plant called Devil’s Breath. If you cook with it or make tea, it will make the person forget whatever you want them to.”
“How?” Frieda sniffed.
“We would have to grow it. I can show you how much you need to put in,” Romy whispered. “But you can’t tell anyone, Frieda. It’s important that you promise me.”
“We don’t have time to wait and grow a plant, Romy.” Frieda walked back and forth wringing her hands.
“Promise me,” Romy insisted.
“Alright, I promise,” Frieda replied.
A spark of light illuminated both of the girl’s faces when Romy opened her hand. Frieda gasped as a seed appeared from thin air.
Frieda gasped, “What?”
“Shush, I need to concentrate.”
For a moment the light flickered, but then it came back even brighter. A shoot erupted from the seed, and then another. As if trailing up and invisible line, the sprout went from white green. Leaves appeared as the plant developed, and then an elongated bloom like the horn of a trumpet began to grow.
The bells were a creamy white color and hung facing down. Frieda reached out to touch the plant.
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 18
