At last, though, the days grew cool, and then cold. Autumn came and went, and winter hove on the horizon.
Emi came no more that year.
That winter was nothing like the previous winter had been. The season came with cold winds and snowfall, but nothing fell like the prodigious amounts of the year before. Brenyn labored on the days that were warmer, pruning the apple trees, feeding the ox, and re-supplying the woodshed, willing the season to pass and spring to come again.
Near the turning of the new year, which would be Brenyn’s sixteenth, the temperatures dropped sharply for several days and the wind blew strong out of the north, bringing tiny bits of ice upon it that peppered the windows like angry bees. Brenyn kept the fire roaring in the fireplace; still, the air inside the house was so cold on many of those days that Mirae often slept near the fire.
One morning, as he was building up the fire again, Brenyn was dismayed to find Mirae stricken with fever, slumped in her chair beneath her blanket, shaking with chills. Kneeling beside her, he felt of her forehead. The skin felt as if it were burning. His eyes widened in fear.
“Gran. Gran – can you hear me? You have a fever.”
She opened her eyes for only a moment. “I can hear you… Brennie. Yes… I am ill. Make me… a spot of tea, will you? – from the… pot I keep at the back… of the cupboard.”
He jumped up and went to the cupboard and found the pot. Inside, there small woven bags of pungent herbs. Filling her kettle with water from the jug he kept on the counter, he put one of the bags down in it, hung the kettle on the crane, and swung it over the fire. Within a few minutes, it was boiling. He removed the kettle and poured a cup of the steaming liquid and then waited a few moments for it to cool sufficiently for drinking.
Taking the cup to his grandmother, he gently lifted her head. “Here, Gran; here’s your tea. Careful – it may yet be a wee bit hot.”
She dutifully drank some and then pushed the cup away. “That will do for now. Thank you… Brennie.”
For all that next week, Brenyn attended to his grandmother, keeping the fire going strong at night and sleeping only for small periods on the days when the sun shone upon the house and helped to defray the cold.
The day finally came when she awakened him from a nap, standing over him and stroking his hair. “You go to your bed now and rest, Brennie. The fever has passed.”
He looked up at her groggily. “Truly, Gran? You are well?”
“I am well. Now go and rest.”
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I will make up the fire and then rest a bit,” he agreed.
“Leave the fire, Brennie; I can manage. It’s warmer today; I think the cold spell has passed,” she told him. “Go on now, get some rest.”
“Thank you, Gran.”
The cold days had, in fact, moderated. Winter yet held sway, but the bitter, frigid temperatures had passed and did not return. The days gradually warmed, promising an early spring. It snowed twice more, a few inches each time, but it quickly melted. The day came when the buds on the limbs of the apple trees began to swell and burst into flower.
Spring had arrived.
The days were yet cool, however; even so, as he plowed the garden and the wheat field, Brenyn kept an ear cocked toward the road, listening for Emi. But though spring had come, it remained cool, and the weather took its time warming. Twice, thinking he had heard horses, Brenyn rushed to the river bridge, only to return to his labor in disappointment.
The river ran high for a few weeks, for, despite the paucity of winter snowfall around Pierum, there was yet a good amount in the mountains. As the days finally began to warm, the spring melt caused the current to rise, though it did not flood. Eventually, spring arrived in its fullness, warming the earth and causing the forests to explode in a covering of green. Then, at last, one day, Brenyn heard the unmistakable sound of horses upon the road.
He threw his hoe aside and sprinted for the bridge.
Captain Grizeo and Emi were both there, upon the bridge, when Brenyn came up.
Grizeo nodded to him and Emi smiled.
Instantly, he knew that something was different.
Emi was wearing a new dress of dark purple with a short, ruffled jacket over the top, and unblemished new shoes. But it was not her clothes that gave him pause. Though he did his best not to stare, Brenyn could plainly see that Emi, herself, had changed.
She was yet slender and willowy.
But now she had curves, where none had been before.
Emi had breasts.
They were small and round, but there was no mistaking the gentle swell underneath the bodice of her dress. Brenyn kept his eyes averted, but she knew nonetheless that he had seen.
“Hello, Brenyn,” she greeted him cheerfully. “It is a lovely spring, is it not?”
And there was another change, in her speech and manner. Where before Emi had ever seemed a child, a girl upon the cusp of womanhood, the childlike simplicity was gone. She was now more woman than girl.
He nodded hesitantly. “A bit slow in coming,” he replied, in answer to her comment about the spring, “but very pleasant now, indeed.”
She turned her head then and looked toward the field to the north. “Oh, look, the blackberries are in bloom.” She looked back at Brenyn. “Shall we walk a while?”
He nodded wordlessly.
Grizeo took the reins of Emi’s horse from her and stepped away, toward the center of the bridge, reaching into his waistcoat for his pipe as he went.
Brenyn and Emi walked side-by-side for a while, with Emi remarking upon the loveliness of the day, the beauty of the woods with their new covering of green, and the chance of an abundance of blackberries when summer came.
Then, when they had come to the bank of the river and were standing together, looking down upon the rushing current, which, though not high, was yet fuller than it would be later in the season, Emi turned and frowned at him.
“You’ve not said two words together, Brenyn Vagus. Why? Are you angry with me? Have your feelings changed?”
She gazed at him in her direct, intent manner, her sapphire eyes troubled. “Have I altered so much that you no longer find me to your liking?”
As much as this suggestion shocked him, it gave Brenyn the chance to be frank with her and to gauge her reaction. He shook his head.
“No, Emi; I do not feel differently toward you,” he answered. “Indeed, you are more beautiful now than ever.” He hesitated. “But you are more… womanly, now… less of a girl.”
She continued to hold his gaze. “It is what happens, you know, and it is perfectly normal – girls become women.”
He smiled. “I know this. Just as boys become men.”
He hesitated once more and looked down at the earth for a time before looking up again.
“But I know not how this… change will affect us.”
She frowned, genuinely surprised. “Why should this affect us?”
He stammered, unsure of how to answer. “Because… well, because you are growing up, Emi, and soon…”
She held up her hand. “Do not finish that thought, Brenyn.” She stepped close and looked up at him. “Are you still my friend?”
“No,” he answered.
Her eyes flew wide with shock. “No?”
He shook his head. “I am something else now, Emi – I am the – I –” He decided to blurt out the truth. “I love you.”
She continued to look into his eyes for a long moment. Then she drew in a deep breath. “You mean that, don’t you, Brenyn?”
“I do.”
She stepped back and looked away, making his heart catch in his chest. Had he gone too far? Brenyn wondered, aghast at his presumption. Would their friendship now come to its proper end?
But then she smiled and looked back.
“I am not old enough to love yet,” she said, “but I will be, and soon. And when I am old enough, Brenyn Vagus, I will love you, only you, and then we will marry.”
Hi
s heart leapt at these words. But in that same heart, in that moment, Brenyn doubted that such a thing would ever come to pass, or that others would ever allow it to come to pass. Still, he held his tongue, and allowed himself to enjoy the moment and the wonder with which her words filled him.
She turned away again and looked across the river at the forest that rose up toward the tops of the hills. Lifting one hand, she pointed.
“Chef made mushrooms for us yesterday, and when I asked him, he said that they grow in the forest.” She looked at Brenyn, her hand still raised toward the woodlands across the way. “Do they grow in those woods? And if they should grow there, cannot we go and find some?”
Brenyn shrugged. “I know not about those woods, Emi, for they are upon castle land, and I cannot go upon castle land to hunt for them. But they grow in all these forests about here. I hunt them every spring, for they are one of Gran’s favorites.”
In response to that, she treated him to a sly smile. “You fish in waters that you think belong to the castle, where you are seen? – but will not go into forests where you might hunt in secrecy?”
He returned her smile and pointed southward, beyond the road. “I have hunted in those forests,” he admitted, “for they are close to home, but never in those across the river.”
“I am only teasing you, Brenyn.”
“I know.”
She looked back across the river. “Are there mushrooms there, do you think?”
He nodded. “Undoubtedly.”
“Let us go and see,” she suggested, excitement making her voice sound childlike once again.
“We cannot yet cross the river,” Brenyn reminded her.
She looked south. “But we could go around by the bridge and find our way into those forests that way.”
He looked doubtfully at her new dress and jacket and then glanced down at her shoes. “I do not think that you are properly dressed to go into the woods, Emi,” he told her, “for there is brush and brambles, as well as briars. Your clothes may get snagged and ruined, and your shoes as well.”
Her eyes darkened with disappointment as she considered what he had said. “Will the mushrooms be gone by next week?”
“Oh, no, Emi. They have just now come up and will likely be around for a week or two yet.”
She nodded with decision. “I will wear older clothes next week and we will go and hunt mushrooms – yes?”
He nodded happily. “Yes.”
Emi became abruptly reticent, almost shy. She looked up at him from under her long lashes. “I would have worn them today, but I wanted you to see me in my new clothes.”
He nodded, even as her words caused his heart to pound once more. “I understand,” he answered. “They are very beautiful clothes.” He met her sapphire gaze. “You are beautiful, Emi.”
She made to reply, but then breathed deeply and was silent.
9.
True to her word, when Emi came to the bridge a few days later, she was wearing an older smock and sturdy boots. As Brenyn came up, she frowned and looked down over her clothes and her boots. “I suppose that I am not so beautiful now, am I, Brenyn?”
At that, Captain Grizeo raised his eyebrows, met Brenyn’s hesitant glance for a moment, and then he turned away, leading the horses toward the center of the bridge and fumbling for his pipe.
Brenyn smiled at her. “You are ever beautiful,” he told her quietly, “whatever you are wearing.”
Her eyes moved for a moment, past him and toward Grizeo.
Then she looked back and frowned. “You needn’t whisper, Brenyn – I have already told the captain that you and I will marry one day.”
He stared. “You told him?”
“Yes.”
His eyes widened. “And your father?”
She shook her head. “No; he would not care, anyway. He is a sad man, and cares for little.”
Brenyn frowned at this. “I am certain that he cares greatly about you, Emi.”
She sighed. “Perhaps; I do not know. I wish I could make him happy again, but I know not how.”
At a loss about how to answer this, Brenyn pivoted toward the west side of the bridge. “Shall we hunt some mushrooms?”
“Yes.”
Brenyn produced two small burlap sacks and then led her across the bridge.
Instantly, Captain Grizeo stepped out to stop them. “Where do the two of you think you are going?”
Brenyn indicated the sacks and pointed. “Into the forest, to hunt for mushrooms.”
Grizeo glanced at Emi and then turned and looked across at the woodlands. “I don’t know about this, Your Highness. I can’t see you if you go into those woods.”
“Brenyn will take care of me, captain,” she told him.
“I will, sir,” Brenyn assured him.
Grizeo studied him for a long moment in silence and then slowly nodded. “Yes, I suppose that you can, after all.” He stepped aside. “Alright – but remember that we must return to the castle by mid-day, Your Highness.”
Brenyn answered for her. “We will return in less than two hours, captain.”
At first, they found nothing, not a single mushroom, though they searched every likely spot, and Emi’s disappointment began to show. But then, along the flat bottom of a wide hollow, where a small rivulet wound gently through matted leaves and around the roots of great trees, Brenyn spied a small patch. A tree had fallen here, ages ago, and the mushrooms grew all along the length of that ancient wreck.
Emi gathered them with delight.
After that, her eye became sharpened, for she knew where to look, and she gave out a low whistle every time she discovered more of the earthy delicacies. Sometimes, even when Brenyn spied them first, if Emi was searching in the right direction, he left the thrill of discovery for her.
In an hour and a half, they had filled both bags.
Reluctantly, Brenyn suggested that it was time they return to Captain Grizeo.
Emi frowned. “But there are more – see? – up there, and over there.”
He nodded. “I will return and gather them later and keep them for you.”
Her frown deepened. “I want to stay longer.”
Brenyn glanced up through the limbs of the great trees at the position of the sun and then shook his head again. “It’s time to go, Emi.”
She looked at him with serious eyes. “You will come back and gather those that I have found?”
He grinned. “Do I have permission to enter these woods, Your Highness?”
Her eyes widened in shock and disapproval at his use of the title. “Don’t ever name me thus again, Brenyn.”
He found himself confused. “But you are the princess.”
“No – I am your future wife.”
Brenyn caught his breath and frowned at her. “Emi –”
Angrily, she turned away and started up the hill to the north.
He watched her for a moment. “Emi –”
She held up her hand to silence him and kept walking up the slope of the hollow.
“Emi.”
His tone made her stop, turn, and look at him.
He shook his head. “That’s the wrong way.”
“No, it’s not.”
He nodded firmly. “Yes, it is.” He pointed behind him. “The bridge is to the south.”
Defiant, she put her hands on her hips. “How do you know that way is south?”
“Where is the sun?” He asked mildly.
Without looking up, she pointed at the sky.
Once more, he nodded. “The sun is ever in the south of the sky. Always.”
She looked up then, hesitating. “Always?”
“Always.”
She hesitated but a moment longer and then marched down through the hollow and up the slope to the south, without speaking to him. Silently, Brenyn followed her.
Once at the bridge and back to where Grizeo stood smoking his pipe, Brenyn held out the bags to Emi. “Here,” he said.
Grizeo stared. “Y
ou found all those?”
“We did,” Brenyn affirmed.
“Heavens!” The captain stated. “I do love mushrooms.”
Emi looked at the bags and then accepted one, pushing the other away. “Give those to Gran.”
Brenyn shook his head. “I will go back and collect the others for her. You keep these. Mayhap the cook will prepare some for Captain Grizeo, if you ask him?”
She hesitated and looked at Grizeo for a moment.
Then she looked back and smiled, and her anger of earlier seemed to seep away. “Alright,” she agreed. “Thank you, Brenyn.”
Grizeo stared at her. “I can really enjoy some of those?”
Emi nodded. “I will insist upon it.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Emi stepped close to Brenyn. “Bend down,” she said.
He frowned. “You want me to bow to you?”
“Bend down your head.”
Unwilling to provoke her any further, Brenyn bent his head toward her.
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the forehead.
Then she stepped back. “Thank you for a lovely morning, Brenyn.” She lifted the sacks. “And for the mushrooms.”
“You found most of those yourself,” he protested.
“Thank you, nonetheless.” She smiled and then accepted Grizeo’s aid in mounting her horse. She looked at Brenyn, the smile yet upon her countenance. “See you next week, Brenyn.”
“See you, Emi.”
After they had gone, disappearing around the distant curve, and going northward out of his view, Brenyn went home, found another sack, and returned to the woods to gather the remainder of the mushrooms for his grandmother.
Over the course of that summer, it became clear to Brenyn that their relationship had undergone an alteration. Though they still waded in the shallows of the river, swam in the heat of the summer, and picked and ate of the blackberries, they spent much of their time simply sitting and talking, or strolling and talking, learning about each other, about their respective families and their history, their likes and their dislikes.
Often, as they walked, Emi would slip her hand through the crook of his arm, making his flesh seem to burn and hers – as she often reminded him – to tingle.
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 8
