by JK Ensley
The beautifully intoxicating aroma filled her nostrils, eased her turbulent mind. She inhaled deeply. Slowly closing her eyes, Jenevier allowed the tiniest of smiles to gently turn up the corners of her mouth.
Marlise’s bathhouse was nothing short of incredible. It was Jenevier’s favorite spot in the entire world. She relished her bath time as much as her aunt once had.
“We must be part Mermaid. If we didn’t get a good soak every day, I fear we’d just dry out,” Marlise would say.
The tub was more like a bathpond than a bathtub. It was sunken into the floor and surrounded by tiny pieces of marble and shells that Marlise had collected through the years. She used them to form an intricate design along its rounded edge. The pond was about three feet deep and almost six feet across.
Jenevier smiled as she fondly remembered always wanting to swim in it as a child.
“You’re going to shrivel up and disappear if you don’t get out of there, girlie.”
She could hear the words as clearly as if Marlise were standing there now. And she was comforted. Comforted by the memory and comforted by the tears it caused.
When she entered the back door, she found Jezreel finishing up bathing from a pan of water she had heated on the old stove.
“Oh, Jezreel. I am thoughtless and cruel. Why did you not join me in the bathhouse?”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Jenevier. I couldn’t have bathed in Marlise’s tub. Not today. But I see it’s done you a world of good.”
Jenevier spun around in a little circle, flashing a broad smile. “It was exactly what I needed, Jezreel. It was a cleansing—a divine cleansing of my body, my mind, and my soul. My spirits are heightened, old friend. I have found some of the peace Aunt Marlise wished upon me.”
“Wow. Perhaps she put a little something extra in that last brew.” Jezreel winked at her and giggled.
Both girls’ eyes widened as they came to the same conclusion.
“Yes… It must be. That’s why she insisted on making the fresh batch of rosewater herself, only a couple days ago.” Jenevier laughed at the memory.
“She knew you would take your rosewater bath. Knew you would have to wash it all away.” Jezreel smiled. “So, she spiced it up. Just for tonight.”
“Hurry, Jezreel. Run and jump in the tub while the water is yet warm.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Jenevier couldn’t help but chuckle when Jezreel bolted through the back door. She was giggling with anticipation, trying in vain to hold her flapping robe closed as she hurriedly made her way to the small shed.
*****
Jenevier was busy tying flowers in her hair and humming gaily when Jezreel came back in and collapsed across the bed, sighing blissfully.
“Was Marlise not the greatest soul?”
“Yes, she is. I feel her all through the house, Jezreel. She is with us still.”
Jenevier dabbed on the precious Potion #4 her aunt had made especially for her on her sixteenth name day. Marlise had laughed when she explained the #4 part… “It took me that many tries to get it perfect for you, child.”
Their spirits were lifted to the clouds as they stepped onto the beautifully decorated lawn in the center of town.
As Jenevier entered, the party bells chimed and the children threw flowers upon the ground. The girls held hands as the blooming path led them to the center of the celebration dance circle. They raised their clasped hands in the air for one moment of solemn silence. Then the music began to play and a melodious tune wafted out into the darkening night sky.
It was Jenevier’s honored duty to lead the first dance. She and Jezreel twirled around with glee as the many flower petals tickled their bare feet. When she broke away, grabbing the hand of the nearest child, pulling him into the dance circle… that sent out the signal to all. The celebration was now theirs to enjoy any way they wished.
Jenevier even found herself laughing on occasion. She danced mostly with the children and young people of the village. She would lift up the smaller ones, wrapping them in her arms and spinning around until they were both dizzy. This she did with an uninhibited smile upon her face, until the announcement came to begin the feast.
Long tables had been placed end to end. An intricately designed cloth (used only for such occasions) had been draped down its entire length. A place had been lovingly set for each person there. No one was left out. Numerous bowls of food, platters of meat, and vases of flowers wove a beautifully delicious path down the center. This sight alone was heartwarming, heart healing.
A place of honor had been reserved at the head of the table for Jenevier. Her family’s story cloth had been carefully laid upon the seat.
Each family had their own special cloth, passed down from generation to generation. Some were embroidered with the family’s crest. Others simply held the name of each passing ancestor. Jenevier’s family cloth was a heavily lined green silk. It displayed the honored emblem of the healer—an oval ring of flowers encompassing a single ornately tattooed hand reaching out, holding to that of a small child’s. This had been woven into the center. The ancestral names of the dearly departed were embroidered upon it. Marlise’s name had already been added by a thoughtful villager. Jenevier knew not by whom.
She was seated first, and with the bowing of her head… all others took their places. This sacred ceremony was held for all who were from the village of Tamar Broden. From the oldest to the youngest, the richest to the poorest—all were honored by their loving neighbors.
When Jenevier raised her head, she wasn’t at all pleased to see that a stranger had been seated beside her at the head of the table.
That should have been Jezreel’s seat.
The feast was her favorite part of the celebration, mostly because of the story cloth. It was passed around the entire length of the table. Each person would stand and tell a delightful story about Marlise. About her lovely potions, her funny quotes, or her healing magic. Jenevier laughed merrily. Happy tears poured down her face as each person took up her cloth and shared a special moment in time they had spent with her beloved aunt. Her heart was filled with tremendous peace and love. Why? Because this village wasn’t simply comprised of neighbors, no, it was made up of friends—friends as precious as family.
She smiled. What could be any more respectful than remembrance?
When the celebration finally came to a close and almost all the lanterns had been blown out, Jenevier and Jezreel stood together as she graciously thanked the long line of villagers returning to their respective homes, families, and normal lives. A handsome young man approached her, bowing low as he reverently kissed her hand.
“How gracious and charming you are, good sir. I believe very soon, you will be the envy of the whole village.”
The young man smiled shyly as he raised his head to meet her gaze. “You are too kind, Milady.”
When their eyes met… it was pure enchantment. She was absolutely captivated by his radiant emerald stare. Time stood still as she floated within that fathomless depth of green, utterly lost in those magical looking eyes.
Without thought, she reached to touch his beautiful face. It was as if nothing and no one existed in the whole of the universe, save them. Her fingertips had barely grazed his ivory cheek when the charming young man was forcefully knocked to the ground.
The strange magical spell between them was broken. Leaving Jenevier stunned and disoriented.
She shook her head slightly and turned to see the ebony-eyed stranger who had been seated beside her at the feast.
“What are you doing? Did you push this young man?” Anger began to make her tremble. “You behave as a boorish pig. And you, sir, owe this noble young man your sincerest apologies.”
When she bent down to help the handsome young man up, the Prince of Wrothdem grabbed her. He smiled menacingly before forcefully kissing the back of her hand, pressing it hard against his firm lips. The pain was excruciating. It felt as if her hand
were being held in the hottest part of a flame.
She screamed, frantically trying to free herself from his vile grasp.
Upon releasing her, the Prince simply smiled, bowed slightly, and then walked away.
Jenevier was left standing there, bewildered and shaken, staring blankly after the strange man. An elderly villager walked up to her, gently taking her by the shoulders, breaking her disoriented gaze.
There was immeasurable pity in the old woman’s cloudy eyes and in her voice as she spoke.
“You have been marked, my dear child. Farewell.”
Chapter 5
Dante
(DON-tay)
The radiant morning light burned through her eyelids. But her head was throbbing so severely she dared not simply open them. Raising her hand to block the vicious little beam streaking its way through a crack in the barn, she cautiously opened one shaded eye. Wavy chestnut-colored hair lay sprawled out beside her. Dante was sitting on the floor, resting back against the couch. She gently ran her fingers through the unkempt mop.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he stammered, sleepily.
She smiled, sort of. “You are allowed your rest, Dr. Clave,” she whispered, terrified her normal voice would send tremors of pain shooting through her head. “My sincerest apologies for keeping you here all night. How’s Raven?”
“Ahh… well now, I must say he is doing a whole lot better than you look, Milady.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gratitude, that is incredibly reassuring.”
“Apologies.” He laughed. “I have some tea ready for you. I truly had just dozed off when you spoke. I’ve already added the two drops I knew you would definitely be needing this morning.”
“You are an angel.” She tried to sit up.
“How do you feel? How badly does it hurt?”
“Feels like horses danced on my brain.” She wanted to smile, but abandoned the effort.
“It grieves me to see you in pain.” Dante nodded toward Raven who was looking over the stall door at her. “He’s been up for a while now. I think he is worried about you.”
She lifted her gaze to meet that of her equine friend’s. “I am well, boy. Fret not… I’m fine.”
The horse snorted at her and went back to the fresh hay Dante had placed in his cleaned stall.
“I’ve already taken care of the horses.” He bowed low in front of her, gracefully waving his arm. “Now, tell me what you desire, oh loveliest of women.”
She half chuckled at his animated jest. “I desire only a hot bath and a cold glass of wine, good sir.”
“How about some breakfast instead?”
“You made breakfast?”
“Not yet. I was waiting on you, sleeping beauty.” He carefully brushed some of the curls back from her face.
“I’m certain I look about as beautiful as I feel right now.”
“Even more so, Milady.” He winked playfully. “Now, let me check your head.”
He placed the steaming cup in her shaky hands and sat down behind her on the lounge.
“Please, be careful. I do not relish the thought of crying in front of you, yet again.”
“As long as I am not the one to cause your tears, I will find the strength to bear them.” Ever so lightly, he kissed the painful lump. “The swelling has gone down considerably.”
His warm breath tickled. She smiled.
Sliding her long hair back to reveal her shoulder, Dante bent down to kiss her there, yet remained—his lips, hovering a mere fraction above her tingling skin. The sensation was electrifying—made her toes curl.
“You smile when you sleep,” he whispered.
She felt the familiar flush on her cheeks and tried hard to fight back the smile his words so effortlessly brought to her lips.
“It’s embarrassing to think someone is watching me as I sleep.”
“Not just someone… me.”
When he spoke, his lips lightly brushed against her skin, sending wave after wave of current through her body.
“It was like watching an Angel,” he said.
“Now you’re just making fun of me.”
She tried to pull away but he held her firm.
“Why do you run from me?” He moved so that his cheek rested on the side of her head. He whispered directly into her ear, “Do I scare you?”
“No,” she lied. He terrified her. Well, the feelings he elicited within her were terrifying.
“Have I given you any indication I mean you harm?”
“No. But, I don’t truly know you.”
“Have I helped you this past night?”
“…Yes.”
“Are you grateful the storm led me to your door?”
“Yes.” She was no longer lying.
Her whispers were becoming weaker. Her resolve was fading. The hold this man’s words had over her was a terrifyingly glorious thing. As if… they were filled with rare magic.
“Do you wish me to go… or to stay?” He lightly ran his hands down her trembling arms.
“Stay.” Her voice quivered.
“I would very much like the chance to get to know you, Jenevier.”
She remained silent. The headache was easing off, but the man behind her was making it nearly impossible for her to concentrate. She could scarce remember anyone being so kind so quickly, especially after such a chance meeting as theirs. It was unnerving, to say the least. She took a deep, calming breath. Something was off. Perfect… but off.
“Why?’’ she whispered.
He hesitated before he answered. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to take special notice.
“So I’d already know exactly what you wanted for breakfast without having to ask, lovely maid.”
Dante abruptly stood up, taking her empty cup and refilling it. She looked up at him, puzzled. She hated getting to know new people. Everyone was so different.
I wish they could all be normal… like me. She snorted out a laugh. “But that would be horribly boring indeed,” she mumbled.
“What would be?” He cocked one eyebrow and looked at her curiously. “Knowing what you like to eat?”
“No, apologies. I was just thinking out loud. Actually, I’m not really all that hungry. Oh, but I do appreciate the gracious offer. I only wish for a hot, steamy bath and some clean clothes.”
“I will heat your bath while I’m making you a small breakfast, so you don’t get sick.” He pointed to the newly filled teacup in her hands and shook the little glass bottle.
“Oh, I forgot about that.”
She reached out to stop him as he headed for the door.
“Yes, Milady?”
“Dante, I truly am grateful for your help and kindness. It wasn’t deserved, no. But it was definitely appreciated.”
He took her hand and gently kissed it. “I wouldn’t have wanted to stumble upon any other stable, Milady.”
He flashed her that incredible smile of his and disappeared out the door while she fought a vicious internal battle to regain some semblance of self-control.
“What is going on? This is all too good to be true, Raven. Wait. I’m dreaming, aren’t I? I’m probably still lying down there by the water’s edge, unconscious, and this is all in my mind. Yes, that must be it. Some mischievous little Pixie is whispering these enchanting words into my dying ear just to taunt me.”
She simply couldn’t understand how it was she’d become so comfortable and open with this man—a complete stranger. She was a closely guarded loner. She liked it that way. Now, this man (this strangely alluring man) had effortlessly walked into her life—popped in out of nowhere. And her heart… oh, her betraying heart was fast admitting him without reason or caution.
What… what the hell is wrong with me?
She felt as content with Dante as if they had been intimate friends for years. She found herself wondering what his chest looked like. She’d been too embarrassed to stare last night. But she definitely remembered how it felt—so h
ard and firm through his thin shirt. She wanted to touch his bare stomach, run her fingers up his tightly defined arms.
Jenevier tried to shake the deliciously intoxicating thoughts from her mind, but she only succeeded in causing little tremors of pain to flit through her aching head. She moaned.
But why? Why did I even let him in?
She knew why. It would have been heartless not to. She groaned aloud at the incessant ramblings in her mind. Nothing was making any sense.
“This is ridiculous, Raven. Dante has been nothing but kind to us. I mean, what would have happened to you if he hadn’t come along when he did?”
She started picking up the blankets, straightening the little things left strewn here and there—busy work for her hands.
“Oh Raven, what am I doing? I do have a head injury. Perhaps that’s the whole of it. I know not. I really don’t like people. At least, I don’t believe I do. I can’t remember. Perhaps I’m simply weary, old friend. Weary of mind, and weary of heart as well.”
She kissed the attentive horse on his nose, patting his neck before heading back to the house.
She jumped, startled when the back door swung open with her approach. Dante hurriedly unloaded her arms.
“Don’t tire yourself out, Maiden. I was planning on cleaning up while you were in the bath.”
“Are you being for real? Hmm… you are too good to be true,” she said with a sigh.
Jenevier looked closely at him—his enchanting gray eyes, thick wavy hair, strong shoulders, high cheek bones. Then he smiled at her.
Wow… This man is wholly blessed by the gods. No, he is no man. Normal men are not formed as rare as he is.
“What?” He furrowed his brow. “Why are you staring at me that way?”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re not… real.”
She walked over and poked him on the arm, hard.
He chuckled “You are one incredibly strange lady. You realize that, do you not?”
“Of course I do.” She jabbed him with her finger again. “It happens to be one of my many charms.”
