A wave of lavender calm swept over her and dried her tears, as she reminded herself that the elixir had brought her husband peace in his final moments. Without it, he would have suffered greatly, with no hope of recovery. She may not have been beside him to hold his hand, but she’d helped him nonetheless.
She stepped closer and touched his cheek. He’d been a good husband. A kind man who’d been strong and healthy before the plague had selected him as its next victim.
“Goodbye, my love,” she said, moving the cloth from her husband’s chest to cover his handsome face.
As her calm threatened to slip, she smelled her salts once more, leaving them pressed to her face until the band of grief that gripped her tightly around her chest was released.
Returning to the fire, she emptied the pot, pouring the steaming liquid into a cup and sat down, cradling it in her fingertips. A strange feeling washed over her and her breath caught in her throat. It was like a memory was trying to fight its way to the surface. Not the sort of memory that made you smile or brought you peace. This was the kind that scratched at you from the inside with sharp nails, as it tried to get out.
She reached for her salts yet again and drew in the gentle fragrance, hints of sandalwood breaking through the lavender this time. It wound its way up her nostrils, flowed through her soul and washed away the uncomfortable memory she’d been trying to retrieve.
Taking a sip of her tea, she smiled as the warm liquid slid down her throat, and she resumed singing her song of luck.
She had everything in life that she needed. Life was good.
“We are lucky, oh so lucky, we are lucky, we have luck.”
JASMINE
THE NOW
Jasmine reached for her shawl, tiptoed from her bedroom and through the house she shared with her father and younger brother, not wanting to wake them.
Her father was unwell and needed his rest. Her brother, Raphael, didn’t need any rest, but she did—a rest from his incessant chatter. If only her mother were still alive to care for him, instead of leaving her to raise a boy who was as exhausting as he was endearing. She was barely of age herself. Too young for the responsibility of motherhood, yet old enough to have had it forced upon her after her mother’s death.
She ran her hands through her thick dark hair and re-set the clip holding it in a pile on top of her head, hoping it would stay there for once. Creeping down the back stairs, she filled her lungs with the earthy scents that hung in the air. The garden was in full bloom, bursting with possibilities. There were rows of lavender, useful for calming, pink bergamot flowers, excellent for health of the heart, and trails of jasmine crawling over the gazebo, wonderful for uplifting even the darkest mood. The garden her father had planted stretched for miles with fields of chamomile, peppermint, oregano, citrus, and geranium. Every plant imaginable burst to life in this fertile soil and the undulating landscape was a sea of green with specks of brightly colored flowers, berries, and fruit. Her mother had called it the Garden of Evernow, a place she claimed to want to spend every moment of her now. She believed it was a waste of time to dwell on the past or future, saying it was best to always live in the moment. Being happy to live forever in the now was the key to happiness. Jasmine thought it was a perfect name for their garden.
She glanced back at the house, pleased to see that Raph hadn’t seemed to have noticed that she’d snuck out. Although, she knew it wouldn’t take him long and he’d be by her side, begging her to listen to his latest story. A few more precious moments alone in the garden and she was certain she’d be able to be more patient with him today.
As she made her way down the path, she plucked a blue tansy flower and twirled it between her fingers, wondering how a yellow flower got such a name. Perhaps the person who named it had been color blind? She’d heard of some people like that.
Despite the early hour, women were already working in the garden, tending to the plants and picking what was needed in the apothecary. Their cheerful singing floated across the garden like a swarm of honeybees. Sweet and melodious, it was Jasmine’s favorite sound.
“We are lucky, oh so lucky, we are lucky, we have luck.”
She picked up the tune and sang along as she reached for the smelling salts that hung around her neck from a ribbon. She drew in the scent, just like the Alchemist had instructed all the women to do at regular intervals throughout the day to ward off disease. It was so good of him to care for them like this.
The blue plague was devastating Wintergreen, although if it weren’t for the Alchemist, they’d all be dead. Strangely, his elixir only worked on females, with the exception of a handful of males that thankfully included her brother and the Alchemist himself. Two of her three favorite males in all of Wintergreen. She had a lot to be grateful for. Especially as the Alchemist was working hard on a solution to cure her father and keep the other men safe. The future of Wintergreen depended on him.
Jasmine took her time walking through the garden as she made her way to the apothecary at the end of a long gravel path. She lived in beautiful surroundings. Her father was the original Alchemist before he’d gotten so busy that he had to employ an apprentice. He hadn’t called himself an Alchemist, though. He’d been a perfumer. But that was years ago now, before perfuming became alchemy, and before the apprentice became the master.
The Alchemist had taken over just in time as her father’s health started to decline and he had to step down from his duties. Hopefully, the Alchemist would find his cure sometime soon. It seemed he had a slightly different type of plague. He’d lived far longer than anyone else who’d fallen prey to it. Of course, finding a cure was complicated and patience was required.
Jasmine pushed open the apothecary’s door and smiled to see the flurry of activity inside the warmth of this large open space. There was a small emporium at the far end that faced the road that led in and out of their small village of Cypress, with bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors cramming the shelves. People traveled from all over the kingdom to get hold of the right elixir to heal whatever ailment troubled them most.
But it was here in the workshop where Jasmine felt most at peace. Women were working to sort the various plants they’d collected from the garden. Some were busy stripping leaves from branches, others were crushing them with a mortar and pestle ready for condensing, and yet more were tending to the flames that burned beneath large glass flasks or checking on the jars the oils dripped into, making sure they didn’t overflow.
Despite the variety of tasks being completed, there was one thing these women had in common. They were happy. They loved it here, singing as they worked and enjoying breathing in the exotic aromas that surrounded them.
“Jazz!”
Jasmine spun around to see her brother’s wide eyes staring at her. His fair hair was tussled from sleep and he’d missed a button on his shirt. She often thought he looked more like an angel than a boy.
“Raph, you scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She busied herself to hide her lie by picking up a bunch of rosemary and stripping the coarse leaves into a metal bowl.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, tugging at the sleeve of her dress. “Something bad happened.”
“I don’t want to hear any more of your stories.” Frustration bubbled in her chest and she took a deep sniff of her smelling salts, although the elixir didn’t feel strong enough to calm her tightly-strung nerves. She inhaled again. “Not today. Please, Raph.”
“But they’re not stories.” His voice was hushed and serious, making him sound like an old man. “Jazz, I have to talk to you. It’s urgent!”
“I am n—”
“What’s going on here?” The Alchemist set down a tray of small bottles on the workbench behind them, his nose twitching as the distinctive scent of his perfume floated around him in a cloud. It was unusual for m
en in Wintergreen to wear a scent on their skin, although the Alchemist was nothing if not unique, so nobody questioned him on this.
Jasmine breathed in the fragrance as she twirled the stem of rosemary she was holding. She’d never known a man to smell so good. There were sweet lemony tones laced with conifer, all tied together with a base of something more balsamic. It was woody and masculine, and she couldn’t ever quite put her finger on the origins of this fragrance that was so unlike anything produced in the apothecary.
“Nothing’s going on.” Jasmine smoothed down her unruly hair, hoping not too many strands of it had escaped the clip. “Just Raphael being Raphael.”
“Well, why don’t you be Raphael outside for a bit.” The Alchemist ruffled her brother’s mop of fair hair. “Go and pick me some lemons from the orchard. I’m short a couple of them for the new elixir I’m working on to cure your father.”
Raph pulled his brows together and pouted, clearly less excited by this idea than the Alchemist wanted him to be. But he did as he was asked and headed for the door.
“How’s the elixir coming along?” Jasmine asked, catching the Alchemist’s eye and glancing away, afraid of what he might see if he looked closely enough. She was certain her feelings for him must be escaping her heart and pooling in her eyes. This was no way to be looking at a married man, but she knew no other way. It was beyond her control. Mouths may tell lies, however, hearts did not.
“Making progress,” he said, clasping his long fingers together in front of his chest. “Definitely making progress.”
Jasmine nodded and reached for a fresh bunch of rosemary to stop herself from reaching for the man she loved, wondering what it was about him that drew her in like this. Was it his tall, but somewhat rounded frame? His thick, but graying hair? His soft, but slightly blemished skin with the hint of a beard breaking through? No, it had nothing to do with his looks. It was him.
He leaned in to speak to her once more, his manly scent seducing her senses. “I need to visit your father to discuss some ideas with him. Did you see him this morning?”
She shook her head. “He was fast asleep. I left him to rest.”
The Alchemist nodded as his nose twitched once more. “Right. I’ll get back to work then and see him a little later. His cure won’t discover itself.”
“Oh, before you go, do you have any new sachets? This one doesn’t seem to be strong enough to calm me today and I’ve run out of spares.”
“Of course.” He reached for his pocket and removed a new sachet, untying the one from the ribbon around her neck, and replacing it.
“That’s better,” she said, drawing in both the scent of the new sachet and the perfume of the man who’d put it there. Whatever it was that Raph had to tell her, she’d be able to cope with it now.
The Alchemist touched her arm, sending warm shivers to her stomach and she watched him disappear back to his private workshop.
Her father had known what he was doing when he’d hired this man as his apprentice, recognizing the benefit in training a man who was still young enough to learn, yet older than most of the apprentices he’d previously employed, who’d turned out to be more interested in the women who made the oils than the oils themselves. That was three years ago, when Jasmine had been sixteen, only a child really, although she felt like her womanhood had blossomed the moment she’d laid eyes on this man. She knew she wasn’t alone in her feelings. All the women in Wintergreen batted their eyelashes a little faster whenever he was near, and all the men shook his hand with a little more firmness, keen to prove to him their worth. Before they’d all gotten sick, of course. It was hard to shake someone’s hand from your grave.
But there was no need for anyone to prove their worth when it came to the Alchemist. He accepted everyone for who they were, treating them with care and respect. When Jasmine’s father first fell ill, the Alchemist took on extra responsibilities, stepping up in a way that was beyond his training, without ever once complaining. Then Jasmine’s mother had died unexpectedly and once again the Alchemist had been there for them all, treating the family with special elixirs to help them through their difficult times. Such kindness! It was no wonder she’d fallen in love with him, despite knowing he had a wife. Although it was easy to forget his wife existed when the woman barely left her home. Jasmine had only seen her a few times at the window of her house, staring out at the road as if contemplating running away. If Jasmine were the Alchemist’s wife, she thought she’d be very happy to stay exactly where she was.
“Psst!”
She felt a tap on her leg and bent to look under the workbench. Raph was there, crouching down with his finger pressed to his lips. He must have slipped back inside.
“You’re supposed to be picking lemons,” she hissed.
“I need to talk to you.” His pale blue eyes were wide, as if they held all the problems of the world. “It can’t wait.”
She sighed and took her brother’s hand, deciding to go with him to the orchard. It wasn’t his fault he had such an overactive imagination. Their mother had been the same, always making up stories as she tucked in their blankets at night.
Her breath caught in her throat and she reached for her new sachet, drawing in the scent and waiting for her calm to restore. There was no need to be upset about her mother’s death. Best to concentrate on her life in the here and now, just as her mother had always taught her.
Jasmine reached under the workbench and pulled Raph to his feet.
“He’ll see me,” he said, ducking behind her as his eyes darted around, looking for the Alchemist.
“He won’t hurt you.” Jasmine laughed as she opened the door and ushered her brother outside.
“He will,” said Raph. “He’s hurting everyone.”
Jasmine reached for her salts once again, determined not to get angry. He was only twelve. A mere child who knew no better.
They started on the path that led to the orchard and Jasmine wrapped her shawl around her shoulders a little more tightly. The morning air was crisp, and her slender frame offered little insulation from the cold.
Raph tugged on her hand, pulling her toward the path that led back to their home.
“This way,” he said.
“The Alchemist needs the lemons.” She planted her feet to the path. “He’s working on an elixir for Father. It’s important.”
“That’s of no help now.” Raph tugged harder on her hand. “We have to go home.”
“Father’s sleeping. Let him rest. Nobody can sleep with the racket you make.”
“Jazz, I’ve been trying to tell you all morning.” He let go of her hand so he could stand to face her.
“Tell me what?”
“Father’s dead.” Raph’s blue eyes blinked slowly, not releasing her from his serious gaze.
“He’s what?” Bile rose in Jasmine’s throat and she staggered back a few paces as if Raph had punched her in the gut. She reached for her smelling salts and inhaled so deeply she choked on the oil-infused air as it chased away her pain.
“Dead. Jazz! Wake up! Stop smelling those things. They’re doing funny things to your brain.” He put his hand out to take her salts, and she lifted them above his reach.
“It’s okay, Raph. If what you’re saying is true, Father’s okay. He’s lucky really. We’re all very lucky. His suffering has ended.”
“But you love Father. I know you do! Listen to yourself, Jazz. Why are you being like this? You never used to be like this. This isn’t how a normal person would react to this news. It isn’t how the real Jasmine would react!”
Jasmine smiled at her brother, glad that she’d asked the Alchemist to replace her salts. They weren’t doing funny things to her brain, they were the only thing keeping her sane right now. How could Raph say such things! Oh, to be so young and naive with such a lack of trust in the man who led them. “We’re so lucky, Raph. Really, we are. Father too.”
“We’re not lucky! I hate that stupid song! Everyone’s dying. Can’t
you see what’s happening? Open your eyes.” Raph let go of her hand and ran toward their house.
She pressed the salts to her nose and set off after him to see if what he said was true. Their father hadn’t seemed any sicker yesterday. There was no reason to think he’d have given into his illness overnight. He was probably just sleeping very deeply. Poor Raph had a tendency to get confused. She might have to speak to the Alchemist about making him an elixir for that.
She found Raph standing beside their father’s bed.
“Look, Jazz! See. He’s not waking up.”
She took slow steps toward the bed, not wanting to accept what she knew as soon as she’d glimpsed her father’s complexion. His skin had a waxy look, his features relaxed into an expression she’d never seen on his face before.
“Oh, Father,” she sighed, trailing her fingers across his cold cheek.
Pain gripped her by the chest and she reached for her salts. But before she could bring them to her nose, Raph ripped the sachet from her hand, snapping the ribbon around her neck and racing from the room.
“Raphael!” she called after him. “I need those!”
She heard the backdoor slam and his footsteps disappear down the steps. What was he thinking? She’d catch the plague for certain without her elixir. Could she catch it from someone who’d already died? Did the disease die with them, or did it linger and spread, continuing to live after it’d robbed its host of life?
As fear laced its way into her belly to mingle with the pain of her loss, she stepped away from the bed, almost as if her feet were acting without her mind. However, her eyes were glued to the man who’d raised her.
The more she stared at him, the more her emotions swirled, making her head spin as she tried to figure out what was happening. It was almost as if she was the one who was confused, not Raph. But everything had been so clear only moments ago. Her fingers fluttered around her chest, searching for the elixir that was no longer there. She needed those salts! Why, Raph? Why?
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 23
