Ever Marked (The Claren Trilogy Book 1)

by Mary Akers

  “I really don’t, but thank you for being so concerned,” she replied, her features settling into a genuine smile. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” she said, lifting the skirt of the dress to admire the delicate leaves and blossoms embroidered on it.

  “Do you like it? Really?” Alysa asked, relishing the praise after all her months of hard work.

  “I love it. I really do. It’s the most beautiful dress I will ever own,” Elora gushed. “But please tell me your mother has created a masterpiece for you to wear, because I will be mortified if I come to the ceremony wearing a finer dress than the bride.”

  “Oh, you know my mother. This dress is my best work yet, but my skills are nothing compared to hers. And she’s outdone herself from what I’ve seen. I will outshine you, don’t worry,” she laughed.

  “As you should, my sweet friend.”

  “You know, I actually don’t really see any need for alterations Does anything feel uncomfortable to you?” she asked, walking a circle around Elora.

  “Besides the gaping hole in the back?” Elora joked.

  “Oh Elora! Be brave and daring!” admonished Alysa. “It’s elegant and really does flatter you. Besides, there’s no time to change it.”

  “I’m kidding. It’s perfect Alysa. Perfect. Especially since my birthmark appears to be invisible,” she joked, trying to make light of her concern.

  “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Alysa replied with a laugh.

  “I know,” Elora sighed. “I really am,” she whispered, looking at the seed dangling in the hollow of her throat, perfectly framed by the lacey neckline of the dress. “Hey Alysa,” she said, lifting her hand to toy with the seed. “Do you think the necklace I’m wearing will do for the ceremony?”

  “It’s nice, but it might be a little plain. I think it would be prettier if you added a charm to it. I have something that would look perfect actually. Wait right there!” Alysa said, scurrying from the room to retrieve the jewelry.

  Elora stood quietly watching herself in the mirror. Her expression remained stoic, but she couldn’t keep the disappointment from her eyes. Alysa couldn’t see the seed either. She was beginning to think she was crazy, except for the fact that the Highlander who had sold it to her could obviously see the seed too.

  She was suddenly uncomfortable wearing the mysterious and extraordinary necklace. She reached back to unclasp the chain, pulling it from around her neck. She cupped the seed in her hand, looking at it for a moment. Furrowing her brows, she leaned in for a closer look. It had changed! A few of the intricate grooves in the surface of the seed were suddenly shiny, as though embedded with strands of silver. Elora’s eyes widened in surprise and she closed her hand around the seed. This was magic. There was no other explanation. She quickly ran behind the screen and tucked the necklace into the pocket of her sage dress. Something unexplainable and bizarre was happening and she wasn’t sure if it was exciting or terrifying.

  She emerged just as Alysa returned, holding a lovely silver necklace with a delicate flower pendant.

  “Here! Try this on,” she said.

  She fastened the necklace around Elora’s throat and stepped back.

  “It’s perfect! Oh Elora, the whole thing suits you so well! The color and the vines and the flower pendant. It really is the perfect dress for you, my dearest friend who makes the flowers grow,” she smiled, squeezing Elora in a one-armed hug as they stood before the mirror.

  Elora’s smile faltered for a second as Alysa’s words summoned a vision of the rosebush on the roadside. She laughed at herself, pushing thoughts of the morning from her mind, and returned the hug.

  “Phew! I’m so glad I don’t have to make any alterations! One less thing on my list,” exclaimed Alysa.

  “Well, let me take off this gorgeous dress and I’ll help you tackle that list. What’s up next?” asked Elora as she turned and motioned for Alysa to help her with the button.

  “I need to finish weaving my part of the Binding Cord but I want to do that myself. If you don’t mind though, we could go check out the church courtyard. There hasn’t been a binding ceremony there in a while and I’m sure it needs some tending. And since you’re a professional weed picker, I bet you’ll be handy!” Alysa teased.

  “I really am an expert,” Elora called over the screen as she stepped out of her gown and slipped back into her clothes. Her favorite sage dress seemed pitiful compared to the beautiful gown she held in her hands.

  Elora walked around the screen and handed the gown back to Alysa, who gently draped it over the dress form. “Why don’t you leave it here and let it be a surprise to everyone. We can get dressed together before the ceremony,” she said enthusiastically. “Plus, I just like to look at it. I’m a little proud,” she admitted, blushing.

  “It’s gorgeous, Alysa. You should be proud,” Elora encouraged. “I can’t wait to wear it for the ceremony.”

  “It’s going to be a really good day for so many reasons,” Alysa gushed. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Ready when you are,” Elora nodded, following Alysa back into the foyer. “What’s your parents’ Binding Cord look like? I’ve never seen the one my parents used.”

  “Really? My mom has had theirs displayed front and center for my entire life,” Alysa said. “Maybe she’s more sentimental than yours.”

  “I don’t know if she’s more sentimental, or just more domestic,” Elora laughed.

  Alysa took a detour on the way to the front door, leading Elora into the family room instead. There on the fireplace mantle was a shadow box holding a coil of intricately woven cord with a delicate dried rose nestled in the center. The rope consisted of three braided strands, one comprised of strips of leather and faded gray fabric, one made of ivory silk and lace, a third made of gold twine. The three cords were woven together to make a single cord.

  “It’s lovely,” Elora remarked. “You know, I actually don’t really know much about the cord or the binding ceremony. My parents never talked about it and I’ve never been to one.”

  “Oh, Elora! You’re going to swoon. It’s such a romantic tradition,” Alysa gushed, reaching out to lovingly touch the glass of the shadowbox. “That strand represents my father and is made of strips from his first Guardsman uniform. The other strand is for my mother and was made of scraps left over from the dress she wore that day. The thick gold thread represents God. They are braided into a single cord to symbolize the way their lives are intertwined and to represent the idea that their union makes them stronger. The gold thread represents the way that God has joined them together and is a part of that union. The cord is wrapped around their joined hands during the ceremony to signify that they are bound to one another.”

  Alysa wore a dreamy smile and a pink blush across her cheeks as she finished her explanation. Elora could tell she was envisioning her own ceremony.

  “That really is romantic,” Elora whispered, quietly studying the cord.

  She couldn’t hide the longing from her voice and Alysa gave her a sympathetic smile. Embarrassed and eager to divert Alysa’s pity, Elora pointed to the dried flower resting in the middle of the rope.

  “Is the flower significant to the tradition too?”

  “It’s not really part of the tradition, but it’s a sweet part to my parents’ story,” she shrugged. “My father picked that rose and snuck into my mother’s room to give it to her the morning of their ceremony. She wore it in her hair that day.”

  “I never would have guessed your father to be so romantic,” Elora mused. “Does Trig know how high the bar is set?” she laughed.

  “He knows and is up to the challenge.”

  Both girls jumped at the sound of Trig’s deep voice coming from the doorway. He stepped into the room, pulling a gorgeous bloom from behind his back and presenting it to Alysa with a grin. She laughed, taking the rose from his hand and walked i
nto his waiting embrace.

  “Wow! It’s gorgeous! Thank you,” she said, smiling shyly up at him.

  “I couldn’t walk past a rosebush and not pick one for you, love. Especially when I didn’t even have to step off the road to do it,” he said, utterly besotted.

  “You mean you didn’t even break a sweat retrieving this for me? Perhaps I shouldn’t be so grateful then,” Alysa teased.

  “I think I still deserve a little gratitude,” he chuckled, leaning down to steal a kiss. “Besides, I most certainly did break a sweat. It’s ridiculously hot out there!”

  Elora stared at the rose, a plastic smile stretched across her face to conceal the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew exactly where Trig had found that flower. She had managed to convinced herself over the past hour that she’d imagined the entire thing, or maybe hadn’t seen things accurately due to her panic. But she couldn’t very well deny the giant bloom in Alysa’s hand.

  “Where on earth were you walking that you passed a rosebush in bloom?” Alysa asked. “All the rosebushes I’ve seen are long past blooming. I’ve been disappointed, actually, because I had hoped to wear one in my hair, like my mother did. Now maybe I can! This is wonderful!”

  “It’s just a quarter mile down the road between my house and yours. I can’t believe I never noticed it before,” Trig replied. “It’s incredible. Come on, I’ll show you!”

  Taking her hand, he led Alysa through the house and out the front door. Elora followed hesitantly behind them, nervous to be confronted again by the evidence of her impossible ability. The two lovebirds laughed excitedly and discussed the impending ceremony with enthusiasm as they walked. Elora listened halfheartedly, quietly walking alongside Alysa.

  “This is absurd,” she thought. “Unbelievable.”

  As they rounded a curve, they noticed a small crowd of people gathered on the side of the road.

  “I guess I’m not the only one who noticed,” Trig said. “I hope they haven’t stripped the bush bare already.”

  “It’s alright, Trig,” Alysa soothed. “I already have one and hopefully it will keep until the ceremony.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Trig nodded. “But still, it was magnificent. I wanted you to see. Oh look, most of the blooms are still there!”

  As they neared the crowd, Elora could feel her heartbeat quickening. Even from this far away the vibrant red roses were breathtaking.

  “Oh my goodness Trig! There are so many of them and they are huge!” Alysa cried in delight. “Elora, you have to go tell your mother about this!”

  It was even more incredible than Elora had remembered. She reached out to touch the soft petals of the bloom nearest to her. Lost in her own thoughts, it took a moment for the conversations around her to penetrate.

  “Where did it come from? I walk here every day and I’ve never noticed it before!” said one person.

  “Why is it blooming this late in the year? It’s so strange!” said another.

  Elora suddenly became painfully self-conscious and tried to swallow the lump of panic rising in her throat. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down as her pulse pounded in her ears.

  “No one would think that this has anything to do with me,” she reassured herself. “That would be absurd. And besides, maybe this really doesn’t have anything to do with me” she thought hopefully.

  Then right before her eyes, a small bud formed on the tip of a nearby branch, and quickly grew in size. Her mouth dropped slightly open in shock. When the bud suddenly burst and spread into a gorgeous bright red rose, she gasped and jumped away. She looked around to see if she had been the only witness and was unfortunately greeted by a number of wide-eyed expressions from the crowd.

  “That was unbelievable!” exclaimed Alysa who had sidled up next to her.

  “Yes,” Elora whispered with a shaky voice. “Unbelievable.”

  She backed away from the rosebush, turned and started running toward home.

  Chapter 5

  Elora gripped the front gate to her house, leaning over to rest her forehead against her hands as she tried to catch her breath and gather her senses. Hopefully she hadn’t made a spectacle of herself running away as she had. At worst they would think she was scared of a plant, but at best maybe they believed she’d just ran to fetch her mother, a well-known lover of flowers. That would be the rational reaction of a reasonable person, after all. Elora wouldn’t classify herself as either rational or reasonable at this moment, but she took comfort in thinking that perhaps she had at least appeared so.

  Her breathing finally under control and her pulse slowed, she pushed through the gate and quietly made her way inside. She could hear the muffled sounds of her parents talking in their bedroom. She quickly tiptoed to her room and closed the door, sighing with relief to finally be alone and unobserved. Falling back onto her bed, she rubbed her hands over her face and threaded her fingers into her hair.

  “What on earth?” she mused, shaking her head and letting her arms fall to the bed on either side of her head.

  She lay that way for a long while, silently considering all the extraordinary things that had happened.

  “This is real,” she thought. “All of it. The seed, my birthmark, the grasses, the rosebush, all of these strange things have really happened. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand it. But it all really happened and I’m not crazy.”

  It was somehow comforting to accept it, to allow herself to believe it. The seed was magical. And somehow, despite a life that had been heretofore utterly average, she was magical too. She still questioned how those two facts related to one another, but she could finally acknowledge them without completely losing herself in panic. She was slowly shifting from a state of fear to one of curiosity.

  “Nothing bad has happened, after all. In fact, the ability to grow things is a rather useful talent for a gardener” she thought with a chuckle.

  A knock on the front door jolted her from her thoughts. She moved from her bed and quietly cracked her bedroom door so that she could eavesdrop.

  “Elora’s not here?” she heard Alysa ask. “I thought for sure she came to tell you about the rosebush.”

  “What rosebush?” asked Elora’s mother.

  “It’s the most incredible thing, Mrs. Kerrick. This giant rosebush in full bloom just appeared out of nowhere overnight! It’s just a half mile down the road. You need to go see it. It’s gorgeous!” Alysa gushed.

  A silent moment passed and Elora leaned closer to the opening, listening for her mother’s response.

  “Is everything alright Mrs. Kerrick? Did I say something to upset you?” Alysa fretted, her voice much softer and unsure.

  Clearly the news of the rosebush was an unwelcome surprise. Elora thought back to her mother’s reaction to the tall grasses and a chill settled in her spine.

  “Oh, no! Everything is fine, dear. I’ve just been struggling with a headache this morning. I’ll be sure to check out that rosebush later today,” her mother replied quickly, recovering from her obvious surprise and distress.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that! I’ll leave you alone then. But I do wonder where Elora could be,” Alysa mused aloud in question. “Maybe she went to start weeding the church courtyard. Though I don’t know why she’d be in such a hurry to do that! I guess she enjoys gardening even more than I thought!” she laughed. “Feel better soon, Mrs. Kerrick,” she said over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

  “I’ll tell her you’re looking for her if she comes home. And let me know if you need anything for the ceremony,” Elora’s mother called out warmly before closing the door.

  The house was still for a moment before her father’s voice broke the silence.

  “It’s happening.”

  Elora gasped at her father’s words and quickly covered her mouth.

  “No!”
sobbed her mother. “Not yet. She’s not ready. I’m not ready.”

  “It’s not up to us,” he replied.

  Elora heard her father’s footsteps as he moved to embrace her mother.

  “And she is ready,” he reassured her softly.

  Elora could hear the muffled sounds of her mother’s tears as she cried into his shirt.

  “Wipe your tears, Winny,” he gently urged her. “She was born for this. We’ve known it her entire life. Now, let’s go see what our amazing daughter has done.”

  Elora heard the thud of the front door closing behind them as they set off to see her rosebush. She closed her door and leaned her forehead against it, finally releasing the shuddering breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She sat down abruptly on the floor, as her legs suddenly felt too weak to support her. They knew. They had known all along. And they had kept it from her.

  “I was born for this,” she repeated her father’s words.

  Born for what? The way her mother had been crying, it certainly didn’t seem like anything good. But her father had actually sounded proud. Perhaps even a little excited.

  She felt deceived. She felt curious. But mostly she felt scared. Her hands trembled and tears stung the corners of her eyes as she looked around, trying to regain her bearings. She gripped the ledge of her bedside table to steady her as she pulled herself back onto her feet. As she rose, her eyes settled on the small potted lavender plant she kept there. Her breath caught and her eyes widened as a lavender bud grew and bloomed into a cascade of purple flowers in a matter of seconds. Without thinking, she swung out her hand, sending the pot flying across the room where it smashed again the wall. The sound jolted her out of her panic and she stared at it wide-eyed, dismayed at what she’d done. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she plopped down onto the bed.

  “I can’t keep letting my emotions take over like that,” she admonished herself, shaking her head. True, her world seemed to be tipped on its side at this moment and it was difficult to make sense of all the strange things that had happened, but this was unlike her. She was usually steady and calm and grounded. But she’d been frightened and flustered so many times in the past week between her scary daydream, being followed by the Highlander, and her life-changing self-discovery. She needed to get a hold of herself.