by JK Ensley
“Then what, sweet prince? From whence comes your sorrow?”
“It comes from the painful recollection of long forgotten memories. Memories of seeing that same scar when I was but a small child.”
“Where, Alastyn?” Jenevier whispered. “Where did you see it?”
“The last time I saw that scar… was the last time I ever saw my precious mother.”
“Your mother?” Now, tears burned her eyes.
“Yes. I can remember it well now. I was still very small. Father was in a panic. I was scared because Mama was crying uncontrollably, screaming something about a mark. I remember him holding her so tightly—kissing her face, whispering in her ear. That’s the only time I ever saw my father cry. When he had calmed Mama down, she played games with me in our yard until bedtime. I remember her scooping me up in her arms, rocking me to sleep. I can still hear her sweet voice… singing to me as my lids grew heavier, finally closing.”
Alastyn smiled then, his eyes seemingly watching the cherished scenes from his past. The sight made Jenevier’s heart skip.
“That was the last time I ever saw my mother. When I woke the next day, she was gone. And Father was a broken man. No one ever told me what happened to Mama. Every time I asked anyone or mentioned it in any way, I was hushed and told to go play. So, I cannot tell you what the mark is or what it even means. I was never told myself.”
Jenevier and Jezreel sat in horrified amazement as they listened to Alastyn’s haunting tale.
“So… Jenevier will be gone in the morning? When we wake?” Jezreel numbly whispered to herself.
“No! I won’t let this happen,” Alastyn demanded. “Not again. I won’t let him take you too.”
Jenevier gasped. “Take me? Are you saying the Prince has marked me to be taken?”
“I cannot say for certain. I can only assume that’s what happened with my mother. He came in the night and took her away.”
“Or had her taken,” Jezreel said. “The Prince doesn’t strike me as the type of man who labors with his own hands.”
“There must be something I can do, anything,” Jenevier said through fresh tears. “Oh, I wish Marlise were here. She’d know what to do. I don’t want to be taken. I only wish to remain with my friends, in my home, tending to the village children. I want to be like Marlise.”
“Is there nothing she taught you?” Alastyn asked, desperately. “Nothing she ever mentioned about the mark?”
“No, nothing.” Jenevier stood, trembling. Her tears refused to stop. “I’m not ready, Alastyn. I’m not ready to fill Aunt Marlise’s shoes. And I’m certainly not ready to deal with some bizarre curse from some dark, twisted Prince.”
“If he or anyone else comes for you, they will have to kill me, Milady.” Alastyn stood, wrapping his strong arms around her trembling form. “No one’s leaving here with you, Jenevier… unless it’s me.”
This may be an inexperienced youth before me, yet he is blessed with the mighty heart of a warrior.
Jezreel came into the room carrying a bunch of dusty old books.
“Now, now. No one needs to die here tonight. Or any other night, as far as that goes. This house has known enough suffering and death as it is. Come. Let’s read through some of Marlise’s writings and see what we can glean.”
Jenevier lit more candles. They each began studying from different manuscripts, scrolls, and various other books.
As the night wore on, Jezreel stood and slammed shut an old shell-encrusted journal. “Well, I for one need some tea.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jenevier yawned. “How about you, Alastyn?”
“No thank you. I’m good,” he replied, absently.
Jenevier quietly stepped out the back door to drink in the night air while Jezreel heated the water. She loved the moon. It had always been her comforter, her glowing protector. The door’s hinges creaked as it opened behind her. Yet, she remained still—eyes closed, arms folded, face tilted toward the heavens. Smiling as she soaked up the cool night.
“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” Alastyn whispered. “When I couldn’t find you, my heart skipped a few beats. Please, do not scare me so, Milady. Always stay where I can see you. Promise?”
She remained motionless, arms crossed over her chest. “How is it you are only seventeen?”
“I’m almost eighteen, Jenevier. I am not a child.”
She smiled. “How is it you’re almost eighteen, yet you seem ancient to me?”
“How so?”
“I read it in your sparkling green eyes, when you first took my hand.”
“I felt a mysterious pull in my heart at that very moment,” he admitted.
“Something happened…” She paused. “Well, something was trying to happen. Before we were interrupted.”
“Something did happen… in me,” he whispered.
His honest confession made her heart flutter.
“You make me feel secure, Alastyn… protected. Like it’s all going to be all right. How is that possible? How is it one still young carries such an old soul?”
He moved closer to her. Yet, she remained as she was.
“I had no choice, Milady. I didn’t have a blessed childhood. My father is a kind man, yes. But he is not nurturing. Not as my mother was.”
He cautiously reached out and lightly touched her hair. Most of the flowers and beads were still in it, but they were now wilting and loose. He stepped close enough to smell her again. He tried to breathe in her exquisite scent, lock it away deep inside, keep it with him forever.
She leaned back, resting wearily against his firm chest. His heart beat wildly. She smiled when she heard the excitement pounding within his breast, felt the vibrations of it on the back of her head. He wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin atop her head.
“I am truly thankful you were sent into my life this night, Alastyn,” she whispered, still smiling.
“There is no other purpose for my being. Not anymore. I knew that the moment I first saw you in the dance circle. It was an enchanting vision. One I will carry with me and cherish always.”
He gave her a tiny squeeze. Her heart leapt.
“Are you certain you’re only seventeen?”
“Almost eighteen.”
She smiled again. “And yet… so tall.”
“Perhaps you’re just, well, not so tall,” he said teasingly.
They shared a laugh as he squeezed her again, leaning down to smell her lovely rose-scented hair once more.
His long dark curls fell across her face, lightly brushing her cheek, causing her mind to fill with thoughts of passion. Jenevier was suddenly confused. She had never been this close to a boy before. Her heart raced and her knees felt weak. She feared she might be sick. She swallowed hard.
“…Alastyn?”
“Yes?”
She turned to face him and was immediately lost once more in those fascinating emerald eyes, completely enchanted by the sheer flawlessness of his lovely face. She had never felt such an intense attraction to anyone before.
“I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” she confessed.
“Is it a good thing?”
“I know not. But I like it.”
His dazzling smile nearly stopped her heart. She tenderly placed her hand upon his cheek. She couldn’t help it. She never wanted to move from this very spot. She was in awe of him.
“You are so beautiful,” she whispered.
He laughed softly, blushing. “I believe I’m the one who should be telling you that.”
“Tell me this, Alastyn. If I were allowed to stay here, would you visit me?”
“Every day.”
“Promise?”
He bent closer, whispering in her ear, “I have no choice, Milady. You have stolen my heart. I can no longer breathe on my own. Will you destroy me, or love me? I cannot prevent either. But I prefer love.”
He brushed the tip of his nose lightly against her cheek and softly kissed her ear. It wa
s the most magical feeling she had ever known. She very nearly swooned.
“I would never destroy you,” she whispered shakily.
He kissed her forehead. “So, you would love me, then?”
“I fear I am way past being able to stop,” she confessed, breathlessly. “It happened in but an instant. When I looked into your magical eyes, they pulled my soul into them. I was floating through the stars, Alastyn, floating within the heavens. And wishing only to remain there… always.”
He made a soft rumbling noise in his throat. It sounded like a growl or a raspy purr. “How is it you speak so openly? These same words were dancing about in my mind. Yet I had not the strength to give them a voice. You appear to me as an Angel. No, as a dream. I cannot pull my eyes from your enchanting face. I wish never again to take a single breath unless it is filled with your magical scent.”
He ran the backs of his fingers down her soft cheeks. Her whole body tingled, like countless little fireflies were lighting upon her skin.
Alastyn’s hand was trembling slightly when he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I freely admit to knowing nothing of love or magic. But they would fail in comparison to what you have done to me this day. I am forever changed. I haven’t even the words to describe it properly. Who are you, Milady? Did the heavens form you just for me? I feel I have captured a rare moonbeam—an ethereal treasure. I’m too terrified to relax my hold upon you for fear the heavens would fast reclaim you.” He tightened his embrace. “Leave me not, Maiden. You now hold my soul within your tiny hands. And a man will go mad if parted from his soul. Do not let me go mad with want for you.”
She watched as his lips moved closer to hers. Her heart started racing like the fluttering wings of a caged bird. She was terrified and thrilled. Countless butterflies were warring in her stomach, making her knees go weak.
Alastyn did not close his eyes. He could not close them. They were magically locked with hers. To him, she was the only other beating heart within the whole of this vast universe.
Then… the teapot whistled loudly.
They both jumped nervously, each releasing a little sigh. Alastyn rested his chin atop her head, pressing her even closer. She melted against him.
“Tea’s ready,” Jezreel called out.
*****
After a long sip of the sweet hot nectar, Jenevier smiled and laid her head back on a pillow.
“Ahh… exactly what the doctor ordered. Jezreel, you are an Angel sent to guide me, my friend.”
“And you are my light in a dark place,” Jezreel replied.
The girls looked at each other before bursting with laughter. These were the words they had used so many times in their lives, and they were the only words that could possibly ease the tension of this night.
“Very well, then. Now that I am refreshed, I shall start a new book,” Jenevier said with a smile.
She began fingering through the many books on the shelves when she stumbled upon an idea.
“Umm… I’ll be right back.”
She returned with a dull purple box covered all about with pieces of broken pottery, a few feathers, some shells, and lots of beads and colored stones.
“Aunt Marlise’s treasure box,” she announced.
Plopping down on a pillow beside Alastyn, she withdrew the golden key hanging from the chain hidden within her bodice.
The odd little box caught everyone’s attention. Jezreel moved in to get a closer look. It was filled with old letters, mementos and other precious little things Marlise had prized. On top of it all was a dyed purple leather bound book. The writing on the front stated simply, ‘Hexes, Curses, Spells and Marks.’
“Spells? But I thought she told us she never…” Jezreel’s voice trailed off as she watched Jenevier open the aged cover.
Quickly flipping through the many hand written pages, she finally reached the section labeled Marks.
Looking up at Jezreel, Jenevier smiled. “I’m going to need more candles.”
Chapter 7
Jenevier
(ZHEN-ah-veer)
The eccentric little package held her full attention.
Where in the world did—
A slight shiver caressed her spine. She quickly glanced around. As usual, no one was there.
An eerie uneasiness began to grow in the pit of her stomach. She ran her finger across the thin frayed string and gently tugged at the end. A strangely familiar odor emanated from it, sending her mind into a slow spin. Jenevier tried to place the bizarre scent. But the answer remained just outside the brink of her memory. It was like… all she had to do was just reach out and take it. But her mind refused to let her, denied her the needed access.
I will not let such things as this master me. I’m being ridiculous. It is but a package, a gift.
She gently pulled back the ancient paper. There in her lap, lay the oldest book she had ever seen. Examining it closely, she flipped the edge of the pages in front of her face. The mesmerizing aroma captured her senses. A bright light shot through her head. Visions of the most familiar yet unknown faces flashed in and out of focus.
The book fell from her trembling hands. Her body rocked as her mind swayed. She collapsed. A peculiar darkness settled over her, claiming her conscious.
Tiny glass bottles emerged from the shadows, dancing and clinking together. Faces moved in and faded back away. Their lips were constantly moving, but she couldn’t make out their words. Their slow-motion speech refused to register in her addled mind.
“My dreams have finally taken me.” She spoke aloud, yet no voice came forth. “Please go away,” she cried out, in silence.
The face of a man sprang from the darkness. He was so close she could only see his eyes. Still, she couldn’t make out his muffled words.
“What do you want?” She tried to scream, but there was no sound, only silence.
The man’s face slowly moved away. But his eyes, his eyes were so sad they tore at her heart. She tried desperately to reach out and touch his face. Her arms wouldn’t obey her. Again he was speaking. She tried to focus only on his mouth and the words falling from it like leaden droplets.
“Who are you? Where are you?” she pleaded. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
His tormented face faded away.
“No. Don’t leave me. Please stay.”
But the melancholy face had vanished. Her mind began to reel once more. A sharp pain ripped through her head when an old woman materialized. She was so pale and shadowed, she looked long dead.
“We need you.” The old woman’s voice was as fair as a young maiden’s. “We need you to wake.”
“I cannot,” Jenevier cried. “I try. But… I cannot.”
“We need you to wake.”
The beseeching words rang in her ears, echoing like the mournful prayer of a haunted choir.
“Please, help me wake. Help me remember.” She pleaded with the vision as the tears poured down her face. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to find you.”
She tried to reach out for the lady. A black gloved hand appeared, covering the old woman’s wrinkled face, pulling her back into the darkness.
“No! Don’t leave,” she cried. “You have to tell me!”
The clinking little bottles crashed to the ground. The jolt sent her mind spinning. It was as if she were caught up in a tumultuous whirlwind, spiraling around and around so fast the world blurred out of focus. Then everything stilled. Everything stopped. The darkness slowly lifted.
Jenevier found herself lying on the parlor floor, covered in sweat. Her chest heaved frantically, yet her limbs refused to obey her. When the strange paralysis slowly ebbed, she snatched the book up and ran into the bedroom. After bolting the lock, she rested back against the door.
Filled with raw terror, and an equally desperate need to know what just happened… Jenevier futilely fought with her unwilling memory.
“What in the seven hells… This was no dream. No, this was definit
ely no dream. Not this time.”
She paced across the crimson rug—one hand running through her mussed hair, the other gripping tightly to the book. She stopped sharp in front of the large window and stared out at the waning light.
“What the… How can it possibly be getting dark already?” She closed her eyes and tried to steady her chaotic mind. “No. It’s not possible.” She gazed out at the now setting sun. “It was only just morning, dammit… only just.” She banged her fist against the window frame. “It’s true then. I am losing my wretched mind, aren’t I?”
Jenevier sighed wearily, wholly exhausted. Rolling her head from side to side, she popped the bones in her aching neck. When she again opened her eyes, she realized she must have dropped the ancient little book. It was now lying at her feet. She gave it a good kick, sending it sliding under the bed.
“Who would have sent such a horrible gift? What vile little servant of hell dug that stupid thing up?”
Her stomach roared. It actually ached.
“I have yet to eat.” She felt nauseous. “And now the day is spent.”
*****
She picked at a bowl of fresh strawberries, but couldn’t bring herself to swallow more than a few bites. When she realized she was absently drumming her fingers atop the table, she balled her hand into a fist.
“There must be some reasonable explanation. If only I could remember…” She pinched hard at the bridge of her nose, squinting tightly. “A bath. Yes. That will help. A bath always helps.”
Jenevier’s beloved bath time—a much needed luxurious escape. It was an escape from the wretched dreams. An escape from the ever present loneliness she constantly denied even feeling. And most of all, it was an escape from herself.
When she tried to remember her life, when she felt coherent enough to study upon it, all she could glean was the feeling of many different people waging war inside her. Only in her bath did she find inner tranquility. It was her happy place.
Ahh… I am only whole within these waters. I must be part Mermaid.
Feeling refreshed and whole again, she was daydreaming, tying her robe as she walked back into the bedroom.
