Chương 10: Honeysuckles In Summer
Arlan returned to the Wimark Estate with his knight in time for the evening meal.
After dining with his sister's family, he decided to retire to his room and rest. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would probably be the same.
Just as he was about to go to bed, his gaze landed on the small knife placed on the bedside table. He walked towards it and picked it up.
At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary knife. It had a narrow blade with a single sharp edge—the kind favored by forest hunters, not herb collectors—but its handle was not made of pale wood but rather ivory. There were traces of a carving at the bottom, but perhaps due to the passage of time, the mark had long faded.
'This is something that a commoner should not have. Only nobles can afford this kind of knife.'
Though it was unadorned, any person with a keen eye could tell this knife ought to be a relic, if not a treasure.
'Is Oriana a daughter of a noble family? That shouldn't be. What kind of young lady behaves like a rogue and struggles to earn copper coins? Unless…her household had fallen into ruin.'
Arlan made a mental note to ask his brother-in-law for a list of fallen noble families in his territory.
'Another possibility is that found it by luck and kept it with her.'
Putting the knife inside a drawer, he idly walked towards the wooden coat hanger placed in the corner. Hanging on it was the headwrap Oriana lost during their first meeting in the forest.
A faint scent remained on the fabric, a mix of herbs along with a delicate fragrance Arlan realized was her own scent. After hanging out with her for an entire day, he had become long used to that scent—it was neither too sweet nor strong, more like a vanilla-honey blend, with hints of jasmine and citrus. It was bright and refreshing, just like her personality.
'She reminds me of honeysuckles in summer.'
His fingers caressed that dark cloth, his expression at a loss.
'Strange. Why does her scent continue to linger in my thoughts? But…I do not dislike it.' He shook his head, attempting to disperse the image of her body pinned against the alley wall. 'Honeysuckles, huh.'
He pulled his hand back from the dark cloth and went to lay on the bed. A smirk crept on his face as he recalled her colorful expression whenever he teased her.
'Shortie, what have you done to me? Why do you intrigue me so?'
That was his last thought before closing his eyes.
—---
Meanwhile, that intriguing woman was running short of curses to say as she hurried back to the village.
"...That good-for-nothing noble brat! You hired me as a guide, had me waste a day's worth of saliva explaining the market to you, then you laugh, saying you have no coins and will pay me tomorrow? What a villain! Did your nanny feed you milk with lead? Maybe she dropped you in the head when you were a newborn—"
Her village was more than an hour's walk away from Jerusha City. Oriana was even forced to spend a few coppers for an oil lantern, otherwise she would be blindly making her way back in the dark.
Amidst her anger, she could not help but be worried for her grandfather.
"I wonder if Grandpa had a meal? He hates to eat by himself. He must still be waiting for me to return."
At the sight of the lit torches outside the village fence, Oriana picked up her pace. When she reached home, she indeed found her grandfather waiting for her outside their wooden cabin. He was sitting on a stump of wood by the doorway.
She hurried towards him. "Grandpa, I am back! What are you doing outside? The cold is bad for your joints."
The old man looked at his young granddaughter with a warm smile. "Waiting for my sweet Ori, of course. I am glad you returned safely."
His genuine concern melted all the negative thoughts in Oriana's mind.
"Did you wait long?" She helped him enter the cabin and had him sit on one of the two stools inside. "Apologies, I did not notice how late it was. I was caught up with important work, Grandpa."
She pulled out all the copper and silver coins she earned and laid them on the table. Under the light of the lantern, they were particularly eye-catching, especially the seven pieces of silver.
"Today was a good day, Grandpa. We earned a lot. This should last us for two weeks."
A single piece of silver was enough to feed a family of three for a week. Together with other expenses, the amount Oriana earned should have been enough for her and her grandfather to live well for at least a month.
However, her grandfather was old and ailing. He might appear healthy on the outside, but his body was racked with many problems.
The wild herbs Oriana pick could sometimes deal with the minor ailments, but it was not sustainable—finding good herbs takes great time and effort. After all, plants needed time to grow, and rare herbs had short life cycles. Not to mention, most of her grandfather's ailments also required complicated concoctions that had to be bought in town.
"You did well, Ori," he praised her, "but you have to look out for yourself as well. You should not stay out for so long. It is best you return home before it's dark."
She held the old man's hand in hers. "I am sorry, Grandpa, for worrying you. But you forget, you raised me well! I might not be as skilled as you, but I have picked up a couple good skills on my own. I am always careful.
"Trust me, Grandpa. I have been keeping myself safe till now and I promise to continue to do so. No matter what happens, I will make sure I will return to your side safe and sound!"
"It's all my fault," the old man mumbled.
"No, Grandpa…"
The old man's eyes turned moist. "My poor granddaughter. It's my fault for being sick and a burden to you. If only I were not so useless, you wouldn't have to struggle like this."
Seeing the sorrow in his eyes, Oriana turned unhappy.
"What are you saying? Who is useless? You? If you are useless, could you have single-handedly raised a person as awesome as me? There is no struggle, Grandpa. We are not begging in the streets, we can eat three times a day, we have clothes on our back and roof over our heads. We can also afford your medicine. Aren't we living well?"
"Do you not resent me? A young woman like you shouldn't—"
"I am fine with everything we have, and I am content. Believe me."
The old man caressed her head. "You have always been a good child. I am fortunate to have you."
"Seems like I came at the wrong moment?" A female voice came from the doorway. "I hope I am not disturbing you, the pair of grandfather and grandson?"
A buxom woman entered their cabin with a large basket in hand. She had a kind though wrinkly smile on her face as she looked at the two. She appeared middle-aged, though she was only in her thirties. Like many villagers, the harsh environment made her look older than she actually was.
Oriana smiled at their neighbor. "Aunt Gwen, what brings you here?"
"I brought food for your grandpa, Orian." The woman put the basket on the table in front of them. "I thought you won't be returning tonight as well."
"Thank you for caring for Grandpa, Aunt Gwen."
"Don't mention it. You are like my son as well," the woman said. "Anyway, I should make myself scarce. You two enjoy your meal."
"I will after a while," Oriana said and looked at her grandfather. "Eat first, Grandpa."
"Let us eat together," said the old man.
"You still have to drink your medicine after eating. You cannot be late," she insisted, but the old man chose to divide the bread into half. Oriana could only sigh as she took out the cured meat in their cupboard, along with several ripe fruits.
After chatting for a while, the woman left to go back to her home. However, she did not return empty-handed. Oriana gave her several fruits as gratitude.
Chương 11: Nightmares
Tucking her sick grandfather to bed, Oriana munched on the remaining bread and went to fetch a basin of water from the barrel outside. She then went to her own room to change into fresh clothes. After lighting the candle on the side, she removed the long cloth wrapped around her head, freeing her long hair from its tight bun.
Afterwards, cleaned herself with wet cloth, her tender and soft skin coming into sight. She tied her long hair loosely with a ribbon and removed her baggy clothes. Her hands then did quick work on the fabric wrapped around her chest, hiding those peaks from giving away her real figure.
Freed of bondage, a silhouette with a womanly figure stretched against the wooden walls of the room.
Though they had been living in the village for three months, no one had discovered that Oriana was a girl. Be it her manner of speaking or actions, she had thoroughly convinced the people she was but pretty-looking boy yet to hit puberty, despite her being twenty this year.
Due to their circumstances, her grandfather raised her as a boy, and if not for her body and her name, even Oriana herself would have forgotten her real gender.
Wearing fresh clothes, she leisurely stretched her neck and limbs, before plopping to bed. Just as she rolled on the thin mattress, she realized a mass of reddish brown hair covered her face. She combed it away with her fingers.
"I did not realize my hair had grown this long. Shall I cut it?" She idly played with a strand. "It is less troublesome to keep it short, but I don't have the heart to cut it. It's soft enough to serve as a pillow."
As she lay on bed, she could not help but be thankful for their kind neighbors. It eased her to think that even if she were not around, there were people she could trust to look after him.
Thinking about heading out tomorrow, Oriana was sorely reminded of the knife she had lost to that good-for-nothing noble named Arlan.
She remembered her grandfather's words.
'This knife is one of our family heirlooms. I am giving it to you as a gift since it is your tenth birthday. It will help you to stay away from nightmares.'
She clenched her teeth as she recalled that noble's arrogance.
'Since the day Grandpa gifted it to me, I never let it leave my side, but that brat….because of him, for the first time in years, I am sleeping without that knife with me. I can only pray I won't get those nightmares but…' she sighed. 'Just bear it for a night. Tomorrow, I will get it back from him.'
----
That same night, Arlan was restlessly tossing in bed. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, his hands clutching the bed sheets, his brows creased as if he was seeing an unsavory memory.
"Mother, where are you…?"
A small boy about five or six years of age was walking down an empty hallway of the palace, searching for his mother at the dead of the night. It was unusually quiet, not a single maidservant or knight in sight. The boy found himself entering his mother's chamber, only to witness the most horrifying scene a child could see.
A masked man holding a sword that pierced his mother's stomach.
"Mother!!!" the boy screamed.
Seeing the boy, the masked assassin's first response was to kill the witness. However, he could not pull out his weapon from her body—the woman grabbed the hilt with the strength of a mother fearing for her child's life. WIth that brief exchange, the assassin could only flee out of the window.
The boy, frozen in shock, could only helplessly watch as his mother collapsed on the floor, her gaze never leaving his.
In those lifeless eyes, there were tears of guilt and relief—guilt for leaving her young son to fend on his own and relief for protecting him, even if it was for the last time.
It was a memory that would forever sear into the mind of that small, innocent boy.
The boy wanted to reach out for his mother, but all of a sudden, everything around him disappeared. and the crying boy was shocked to find himself standing at the edge of a cliff.
Before he could understand the situation, a gust of wind knocked him off his feet. An enormous flying creature with fiery red eyes towered over him. The creature was so massive, those eyes were all he could see, though golden scales seemed to flicker in that darkness.
A deafeningly silent roar came out of the creature's mouth, sending him tumbling down the edge. The small boy could only flail in fright as he fell deeper and deeper down the endless darkness.
A sense of overwhelming despair filled the young Arlan, knowing for some reason that death awaits him at the bottom…
"Little flower, don't be scared."
A soothing voice of a woman pulled him out of the darkness, wrapping him with fuzzy warmth. His surroundings were a patch of soft colors, and he felt great comfort as he heard her melodious laughter.
"Did you miss me, little flower?"
He felt her caressing his head. A sweet voice, a gentle touch, but could not see the face of their owner.
"Are you happy to see me?"
It was a one-sided conversation. Only the woman could speak, and Arlan found himself unable to respond. He was content though, as if listening to her talk was the most natural thing in the world.
But it was a happiness cut short.
The woman was swallowed in darkness, leaving him helpless and alone. The ground underneath him gave way. This time, there was no one to save him. He was plunging down to his death.
Arlan woke up like a drowning man gasping for life. His entire body reeked of sweat, his breathing ragged, and he could only force his trembling body to sit up in bed and bury his face in his hand.
Once he got his emotions back in control, he rested his back against the headboard and closed his eyes.
'It has been so long since I had this nightmare.'
It was a memory that haunted him since childhood. He clenched his fists as rage began to burn deep in his heart.
'Mother, I will make sure to find both the assassin and the one who plotted to kill you. I will never rest till they suffer, they'd rather beg me for their own death. I vow that they will regret being born in this world.'
This was not the first, and probably not the last, that Arlan dreamed of this nightmare. Though the pain of his mother's cruel death did not lessen, it no longer visibly upset him as it did to his younger self.
His thoughts drifted towards the female voice in his dream.
'I wonder who she is. Whenever I have a nightmare, it feels like she comes to comfort me.'
That voice neither belonged to his mother nor his sister, nor any of the women in the palace. It was impossible for Arlan to not recall a woman he had met, not to mention this woman was close enough to him to casually touch his head.
'Why can I not remember her face?'
Whenever she appeared in his dreams, she was shrouded in mystery, with only her voice as his lead.
'I need to find this woman too. How can I ignore the woman who never fails to comfort me during my darkest time?'
------
On the other side of the forest, within the wooden cabin of a nameless village, Oriana had curled herself into a ball. Her body was trembling, her hands covering her ears as if she didn't want to hear anything.
An expression of horror colored her face.
'Esmeray…Esmeray…'
A deep, menacing voice, as if it came out from the hollows of a cave, kept calling out that name, sometimes whispering, at times shouting. It was a disorienting experience, the source of the haunting voice giving birth to the suffocating darkness wrapping itself around Oriana.
'Esmeray, return to us. You have to return.'
'Come back where you belong, Esmeray.'
"Go away…" she mumbled in her sleep. "Leave me alone…"
'Esmeray, wait patiently for me. I will come for you… It is but a matter of time…'
"No, go away…please…" she continued to mumble as tears rolled down her eyes. "Go away—"
With a loud gasp, Oriana woke up, her hands on her chest as her heart was racing so fast, it hurt her ribcage.
It was as if she had discovered air for the first time after suffering from suffocation. Her long hair a mess, Oriana sat up in bed, rubbing her arms as her shoulders trembled in fear..
'This nightmare again.' She took deep, steady breaths to calm herself. 'Who is this man who keeps calling me Esmeray? It does not feel like a memory, more like someone trying to speak to me in my dreams…'
She moved her hand under her pillow to check for her talisman. It was empty.
'My knife, where—'
Only then did she recall it was taken away from her.
'I need to get that knife back. I hope that noble brat keeps his promise and gives it back tomorrow. I can't stand having this nightmare every damn night.'
It didn't take her much time to collect herself and she lay back in the sheets, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling. She could not sleep— or more like, she dared not close her eyes, scared to hear that haunting voice again.
'Let the sun rise early, let the morning come fast. Let this darkness disappear soon.'
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