Legend of Me

by Rebekah L. Purdy

  The problem?

  I don’t know what any of this means.

  Night was in full swing by the time Gram got home. She set a bundle of nettles on the table, then hurried to grab two candles from the shelves. Staring up at the painting of Narcissa and Lucia hanging on the wall, she crossed herself, and one look at her eyes told me she was barely holding back tears.

  I looked at the painting, too, half to give her another second to herself, half to compare Lucia’s image to the face I’d seen earlier.

  Long dark hair. Eyes the color of mahogany. Full lips that neither smiled nor frowned.

  They were the same.

  If Lucia’s ghost was here, why was it here? Why had she come back? Simply to warn me about the Beast? But why now?

  “Go on and get those rafts I put together,” Gram said, pointing at two tiny makeshift boats sitting near the hearth.

  When I had them in hand, I followed her outside and into the forest. We trekked through heavy brush, pinecones crunching beneath each footfall. The scent of dirt hung heavy in the air. The cool night breeze whispered against my cheek as we came to the bank of the river.

  As we stood there, I contemplated telling Gram about Lucia’s ghost. Would tonight be appropriate to bring up that I thought I’d seen her? The more I thought about it though, the more I realized I couldn’t let it go, I needed to know what was out there.

  “Gram?”

  She peered at me with tired eyes. “Yes?”

  “I-I think I might’ve seen Lucia’s ghost … ”

  She took a staggered step back. For a moment, I thought I heard her utter the word “already.” The look of shock quickly passed, and she patted my arm. “With it being the night of the anniversary of her death, it is no surprise that she might appear to you.”

  Gram took the two rafts from me, but said no more as she set them on the ground at our feet. Next, she produced the candles she’d brought from home. She cupped her hands around the first one, until a flame caught its wick. She then placed it on a raft and gave it to me to hold while she lit the next one.

  When both candles twinkled with light, we walked to the edge of the river. “Let us remember our dear family, who were taken from this world too soon. May their memories be honored this night and may their spirits be at peace.”

  “We won’t forget you,” I said as I placed my raft on the gently flowing water and watched it bob downstream.

  Gram stepped forward and did the same. When they were out of sight, I leaned over and hugged her. I could feel the tears tracing her wrinkled face as she pressed her cheek to mine.

  “It doesn’t get any easier,” she said.

  And she was right. We were the only surviving people left in our family. This was the first of many remembrance ceremonies we’d hold this year.

  “We best get out of the woods for the night.” Gram wiped her eyes and tugged me toward home.

  In the distance, I heard something thrashing through the trees and knew she was right.

  Sweat beaded on my brow and I wiped my forehead with my hand.

  “Hold still, Brielle Healer, unless you want a pin in your leg.” Lady Weaver pulled the lavender silk tighter. She slid pins into the fabric to hold it in place then spun me around to face her. “Looks like you’ll only need one more fitting after this.” She eyed her work, adjusting the bust line. “You look charming in this color.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  Although she was the worst gossip, she made the loveliest dresses, and I was grateful Gram managed to save enough coins for me to get something perfect for the festival. Now my only hope was that Raul would get a chance to see me in it.

  Sarah glanced up at me from the counter where she was busy cutting material for a customer. Her lips tightened into a thin line as if her mother had sewn her mouth shut. She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Wait until you see my dress,” she said. “Mother made me the best one in the village.”

  Of course she did, because Sarah’s parents denied her nothing. She flaunted every tiny thing she had. It was only a matter of time before she dug her claws into some unsuspecting male. What a shite.

  “Now, Sarah, mind your manners. There’s no need to be a braggart.” Lady Weaver set down her pincushion. “Go ahead and take it off in the back room. I’ll fetch it in a moment.”

  I stepped down from the wooden platform and hid behind a partition. Trying to be careful of the sharp needles, I tugged the gown up and over my head, then folded it neatly and slipped into my plain brown dress. My fingers brushed against the large scar on my chest, right above my heart. Gram said I’d had it since I was child, although she never indicated how I obtained it, I only knew that it’d been a part of me for as long as I remembered. It was a good thing my dresses covered me so well. Not that I cared if anyone saw it, but it would lead to questions I couldn’t answer.

  “Mother, can I go to the creek with Rhyne Butcher today?” Sarah’s voice carried.

  My hands clenched. What if he took her to our spot? I scowled at the lavender dress.

  Lady Weaver gasped. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But Brielle is alone with Rhyne all the time.”

  “Brielle is not a proper lady. You know who her grandmother is. Be glad I don’t let you run around like some bar wench. No. You will not go to the creek,” she whispered, as if that’d keep me from hearing. “Besides, Rhyne Butcher is a half-breed. And no daughter of mine is going to be caught up alone with that boy. You know the Wanderers’ reputations.”

  I stiffened. How dare they speak of us in such a manner? Just because we didn’t have an abundance of money didn’t mean I couldn’t carry myself like a lady. My mother had been a noblewoman. And my father, well, he might not have been a lord, but he had been one of the richest merchants in the country. However, I didn’t go around town shouting this to everyone. In fact, very few people were aware of my lineage. And she had no right to talk badly of Rhyne. He didn’t deserve it.

  Sometimes it was easy to forget where I came from, that Gram and I didn’t always live in the cottage at the edge of Dark Pines. No. We’d only come here after Mother, Father, Aunt Narcissa, and my cousin Lucia died.

  Tears burned my eyes and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. Can’t let them see me cry. I sucked in a deep breath of air, smoothed down my dress, then marched into the main shop.

  “Did you leave the gown behind the partition?” Lady Weaver asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t want to get it dirty—you know how unladylike I am. Kind of like a bar wench,” I shouted.

  Mary Dyer, one of the Weaver’s friends, covered her mouth in surprise and hurried out of the shop as if she might catch something from me.

  “Brielle, I didn’t mean—” Lady Weaver tried to grab my arm, but I shook her off.

  I snorted. “My arse. Good day, Lady Weaver.”

  Patrons stared at me as if they’d never heard the word arse before. Well, maybe not from a young lady. I pushed out onto the street and the door to the seamstress shop slammed shut behind me.

  By tomorrow, I’d be the talk of the village. Me. My dirty mouth. And Gram.

  Rhyne would make me feel better, but the butcher shop had a line of customers. The townsfolk were stocking up in case the Beast laid siege on us. The last thing I wanted was to get him into trouble. But I needed him.

  I waved my hand, catching his attention from the doorway. He glanced at me, then leaned over to speak to his father. Bowman Butcher peered up at me and gestured for him to go. Rhyne took off his apron, washed his hands, and then hurried out to see me.

  “So how did your fitting go?”

  “Don’t get me started on the fitting. That two-bit arse of a Weaver did nothing but speak ill about me and Gram. And you as well.”

  “That explains the gossip.”

  My head snapped up and my gaze caught his. “What gossip? How can there be gossip? I only left the sh
op but a moment ago.”

  He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Mary Dyer said she was inside the store when a lady with a mouth like a tavern wench started yelling.”

  I groaned. “I hope word doesn’t get back to Gram or she’ll tan my hide for sure.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” He smirked as he rested a palm on my lower back to steer me around a pile of horse manure. “So, where do you want to go? Maybe a trip into the marketplace would make you feel better.”

  My gaze drifted to the marketplace. “Well, only if you want to?”

  He grinned. “Come now, Bri, you know me better than that.”

  With a snort, I nudged him with my elbow. “All right then. But we can’t stay too long. Gram might not care if I’m out with Wanderers, but if I’m out past sundown, she’ll for sure punish me all the same. Remember what happened last time?”

  Rhyne blanched. “Yes. But you have to admit … we did have a lot of fun.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who couldn’t sit right for a week.”

  He laughed. “You know it was worth it.”

  We walked in silence for a bit, my mind wandering.

  I chewed my lip and glanced at Rhyne. Should I ask him about Raul? He’d at least help me figure things out wouldn’t he? My feelings that is. But I’d gone so long insisting that I didn’t like anyone that he’d be right to give me a hard time now that things might have changed.

  Of course, I didn’t have to tell him everything. I could just ask him in a roundabout way …

  With a deep breath, I decided to take a chance. “Rhy?”

  “Hmmm?” He peered down at me.

  “H-how did you know you liked Gertie?”

  “I don’t know. It just kind of happened. I started to notice small things about her. Like her smile and her laugh. Her eyes. Then when I lay in bed at night, I kept thinking about her. It’s like I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The more time we spent together, the more time I wanted with her. But why are you asking? Is there someone you’re interested in?”

  “Of course not. Who do you think you’re talking to?” I refused to meet his gaze. Rhyne knew me too well. One look in my eyes and he’d know I was lying.

  We hurried toward the marketplace. People bustled back and forth, carrying baskets, loading carts, bargaining for the perfect deal. My hand brushed against the leather purse belted at my side. I had a few coins left from doing Peter Farmer’s laundry. Maybe I could find a few new books or parchments.

  “Get yer fresh spices here.” A bald vendor, wearing a dusty green tunic blocked my path, waving a jar of cinnamon in front of my face.

  “No, thank you.” I side-stepped him.

  Other people offered up chickens, jewelry, knives, vegetables, rugs, and even maps. One after another, I declined. I sought something else. Then I saw his set-up. Rhyne had been right, the Wanderers were back. Raul was back.

  “They’re here.” I grinned at Rhyne, quickening my step. It’d been months since we’d last seen them. He’d been here at the beginning of spring, and here it was nearly the end of summer. Excitement made my heart race as I stared ahead.

  There, beneath the shade of the sycamore trees sat the colorful carriage, its wood panels painted in vibrant reds, blues, and greens, a great canopy erected in front of it. With a smile, I dipped beneath the green and white striped awning.

  The scent of pipe smoke drifted in the air, while wind chimes made of shells and iron rings created eerie tunes. An array of feathers, jewels, and stones were spread over tables. Reed baskets filled with flower petals were positioned along the carriage. A collection of daggers, throwing knives, and scabbards sat on a wooden display next to a rainbow of silken scarves.

  “I wondered when I might see you.” A tanned hand moved in front of my face, holding a blue wildflower.

  I smiled, shifting my gaze to Raul. Already my pulse thrummed in my ears. His sun-bronzed skin accentuated his dark hair, which hung about his shoulders with tiny beads braided at the sides. He wore green breeches tucked inside brown leather boots, with a white tunic unlaced revealing golden chains. Three silver hoops hung from his ears, his eyelids darkened by some sort of powder. Several new tattoos looped up his arms like artwork.

  He grinned at me, his teeth like ivory against his tan skin.

  “Raul.” I curtsied, then took the flower he offered.

  “You get lovelier every time I see you.” He winked, ushering me inside his carriage.

  “Don’t even think about it, cousin.” Rhyne caught my arm, pulling me back to his side.

  “Ah, Rhyne Butcher. Dear cousin, I would never think about doing anything with your little Brielle. I just merely wanted to show her my goods.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” Rhyne snorted.

  My cheeks flamed. Raul was exotic. Beautiful. Well-traveled. Dangerous. Forbidden. Everything Gram warned me to say away from. A scoundrel Gypsy, who’d been disowned by his family and banished by his tribe, just like his aunt, Rhyne’s mother, or so Rhyne and the town gossips said. He traveled the world buying and selling unusual trinkets, and supposedly corrupting young ladies. Even though Gram told me not to visit him, her threats of punishment never stopped me.

  Secretly, I thought she liked him, and the Wanderers in general. He always brought the best herbs with him, which she bought by the basketful for her serums and healing salves. It was hard to believe he was only five years older than me. He seemed so much more worldly and sure of himself.

  “Have you got any new books?” I followed him, my palms slick with sweat. Did he remember the last time we were together? The night he’d walked me home? The way his fingers had entwined with mine, the promises he’d made to come back soon to see me?

  He laughed, the sound warm and tantalizing. “Of course, you don’t think I’d come to Dark Pines without something for you?”

  Raul climbed up into the back of his carriage, where crimson and gold fabrics hung like curtains. He reached beneath one of the seats and pulled out a wooden box holding several books and scrolls. Some were sheepskin, while others were bound by thick leather. Most of them were ancient texts in Latin, Arabic, and Hebrew.

  “Where did you find these?”

  “It’s a secret.” He set the box in front of me and Rhyne, hopped out of the carriage, then winked.

  With a giggle, I rolled my eyes. Sometimes he was insufferable. My hand trailed over a large, leather bound book. But it was the one next to it that caught my attention. The binding on it was worn more than the others, as if many people had handled it before. I pulled it free and flipped open to the middle. Blood rushed to my face. There, drawn on the center of the page, was a couple doing things that ought to be kept behind closed doors.

  “Shite,” Rhyne said, glowering at Raul.

  Raul grabbed it from my hands and tossed it into the carriage. “You’ll not be buying that one. Your gram would skin me alive.”

  I cleared my throat. “Um—I wasn’t going to buy it. I didn’t know … ”

  He laughed. “Of course you didn’t. How about these? Greek mythology, histories of the church? They’ll need translating, but I know how much you enjoy that kind of thing.” He handed me a set of scrolls and a book made of sheepskin.

  “Wha-what is that book called?” I gestured to the carriage. I knew it wasn’t proper to bring up such things in mixed company, and in fact, Gram would be appalled. But I’d already seen the pictures, so it could hardly matter now if I knew the title.

  “I don’t think nice young ladies need to worry about such matters. Let’s forget you saw that, shall we?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Unless of course, you plan on running away with me?” His hand cupped my elbow, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “However, I think your grandmother would have something to say about it. Actually, I believe she said she’d switch you if she caught you down here again.”

  I became all too aware of his closeness, the way the s
kin at my neck tingled like tiny, hot flames had been lit atop me. My eyes widened. “I’m nearly an adult.”

  “And you have plenty of time to figure out the wonders of the world. Perhaps even one day with me.” His lips twitched.

  “Are you trying to get me in trouble for bringing her here?” Rhyne tugged me away from him.

  I laughed, digging into my purse for coins. “He’s fine, Rhyne.” My eyes shifted back to Raul again. “But with the way you flirt, it’s no wonder rumors fly about when you’re here.”

  His gaze softened as he raised a hand to his chest. “Ah, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Brielle Healer. You wound me. But I shall forgive you, as I always do.”

  He took the coins from me and slipped them into a wooden box.

  “How long will you be in Dark Pines?” Rhyne asked.

  A breeze brushed against my cheek, bringing with it the musky scent of Raul.

  Raul reached for my hand, raising it to his lips. “I think I might stay for the Festival of the Stars. If only to garner a dance from Brielle.”

  I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Gram would die of rage.” Why did I always react to him like this? Because you’re infatuated. I could ask him to walk me home, Rhyne probably wouldn’t mind too much, but if Gram found out she’d be furious. She didn’t think anyone was good enough for me, especially a Tinker who spent most of his days traveling.

  “Or put an evil curse on me.” He released my hand. “Which reminds me, don’t tell her you’ve been to see me.”

  “I’m not daft.”

  He cast me a long glance. “You best run along now or I might have to ask you to stay. We both know that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Raul,” Rhyne growled. “I told you last time you were here that Brielle isn’t like other girls. Now stop trying to flirt with her.”

  “He’s only teasing, Rhyne.” But a part of me wished he wasn’t or maybe hoped he wasn’t. “Besides, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  Rhyne gently pulled me aside. “Listen, I’ve got some things I need to take care of here. And not that I don’t want you around, but I need to talk about some private matters with my family. Would you mind if I stuck around here for a while? Or if you want I could see you home first.” His gaze shifted to Raul and some of the other Wanderers as if he was looking for someone.