Lighting the Tinder, Kristen Rold [chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT] 📗

as a tea leaf holder, and filled the holder with chamomile leaves from the box. She suspended the bundle of leaves into the water and threw a length of gauze in with it to also soak up some of the nutrients. She walked over to the window where several herbal plants were placed to receive sunlight. She reached for the one with a few long, thick lush green leaves sprouting from it’s roots. She broke one of these leaves and brought it over to the counter where the gauze she would use to cover her wound was laid out.

Starting at the pointed tip, Pelith squeezed from there to the opening, which was right above the gauze. Gel poured from the the Aloe Vera plant onto the gauze. With a spoon, she spread it about a bit before returning to the tea and lifting the tea leaf holder and cloth from the water and putting the leaves in the cloth. She slightly squeezed the small bundle to remove a bit of the liquid from it and carried it back to gauze on the counter. She covered her hand with the gauze and tea leaves. She breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally finished. Quickly, she cleaned up what had suddenly became a cluttered room and wiped the blood that had dripped from her hand off of the floor and counter before returning to the bench Caloinel had told her to stay in. Only minutes later, Caloinel burst into the room with Trylia, one of their top maids and their nurse when they needed one.

They were both in a frenzy until they saw Pelith sitting on the bench. “Let me see your cut, miss,” Trylia said to Pelith. Pelith’s response was holding her hand in the air to the height of her head with an unimpressed look on her face. She opened her mouth to give her reply but her mother didn’t give her that chance.

“Pelith! Take that off right now. You’ll need stitches and proper care,” Calioniel scolded her daughter, though Pelith immediately protested.

“But now that it’s treated can’t we wait and see if it heals on it’s own? Give it a week or two, and if there’s no improvement then it all yours,” Pelith argued, hoping it would be enough. She’d had stitches before, and she’d do anything to prevent getting them again.

Before Calioniel could say anything else, Trylia spoke up. “How did you treat it, miss?” she asked Pelith.

“I applied some diluted eucalyptus oil to the opening directly, spread some Aloe Vera on the gauze straight from the plant and I rapped a bag of soaked Chamomile tea leaves in with the gauze.”

“Let me see the wrapping, dear,” Trylia motioned to Pelith’s hand. She felt around the edges. “Well, I’d say you did a fine job. You probably should have waited for me to examine it, but now that it’s wrapped, we might as well let it be. But don’t do too much with that hand, and best to forget hunting for a while.” Trylia gave her a knowing smile.

“Thank you, Trylia. And, yes, I agree. I’ll not hunt until my wound is healed,” Pelith lied.

Calioniel huffed, defeated. “We can discuss this later, but now we must hurry. Something great is happening. Go change out of those clothes; they’re filthy and stained with blood. Put on something you wouldn't consider hunting in. Wait in the hall outside your father’s and my room. I’ll be right out to meet you. And brush your hair!” Calioniel finished by pulling a small twig from her daughters hair before rushing off to her own room.

“And do be careful with your hand, Pelith,” said Trylia. “Also, you just might want to wash your face.” They shared a quick warm smile before Pelith ran to the stables.

Chapter 3

 

“You’re back sooner than expected,” Culia noted when Pelith arrived. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to besides Marawyn over there and those rowdy worker boys around here.” Marawyn was a stuck-up unicorn. He thought he was better than any of the other stable animals because he could talk and had a horn. Most of the horses and donkeys could only communicate through brays, knickers, neighs and other animal noises, but occasionally, a talking beast would turn up. Unicorns almost always talked.

You might think that Marawyn would be a prefered choice for Pelith. He was, indeed, easy on the eyes, but Pelith had only to look him into his to discover the truth of his conceited and arrogant attitude. He always had a purple blanket on his back, as though it were a king’s robe. Marawyn would never allow any to ride on him, anyways, and the only other creature he would ever share a trough with was Culia, as she was the only other animal Pelith’s family had that talked. But, like Pelith, Culia despised his demeanor.

The ‘rowdy worker boys’ were young boys from town who were looking for a way to earn some money so they worked here in the stables. Most of them weren’t used to talking animals. A few had become accustomed to Culia and Marawyn, and some had a talking animal of their own, but talking beasts were still too rare for most of these boys to feel comfortable having a full-hearted conversation with one. The only one of them that seemed to feel at ease with Culia was Jeridus, though he tended to avoid Marawyn. That was understandable, as Marawyn didn’t exactly receive a multitude of love letters and fan mail from anyone who had ever met him. The only reason Pelith’s family decided to keep him was because they would never turn their backs on any animal-even ones as narrow-minded and spiteful as that unicorn.

“Well, I came to say thank you for helping bring the deer home, and I thought an extra couple of the best Ziatajie apples could show my gratitude,” Pelith smiled at her horse playfully. “And I arrived early because I managed to weave my way out of getting any horrid stitches-with the help of Trylia, of course. I can’t stay long. Really, I should be in my room cleaning myself up and trying to look presentable right now,” she confessed with the slightest hint of mockery and imitation of her mother’s voice.

“What? Why would you have to go and do all that? And near sundown? Are your relatives from Qigondra visiting?” Culia threw questions at Pelith in such a rush, Pelith could hardly keep up.

“I don’t know,” Pelith replied, placing her dagger in it a drawer in the corner of Culia’s stall. She noticed one of her knives was missing, but she quickly pushed aside the thought. She had probably misplaced it, or left it in the orchard. She turned back to Culia. “After telling me to clean up, Mother rushed to her own room. All else she said was to brush my hair and wait for her outside her room. I don’t know why she’s acting this way, but I suppose I’ll find out tonight.” Silence stretched between the two as they thought of different theories for Calioniel’s strange behavior until a familiar, unwelcomed voice sliced through their thoughts like a dagger through dirt: effortlessly, but messy, leaving a trail needing to be cleaned up.

“Well, why not now? Wouldn’t you like to be prepared for this? Or would you prefer to barge in unaware of your circumstances?” Cold blue eyes pierced through Pelith’s from long silvery white lashes surrounded by the same color of fur. Light from a flickering candle reflected from the thin, curved object growing from Marawyn’s head and danced in and out of Pelith’s eyes so that she had to squint to see properly.

“Yes, Marawyn, that would be nice, but I’m sure Mama has her reasons for not giving me information. Perhaps she knew I would come here to the stabled to see Culia and didn’t want and information to slip through certain ears,” Pelith answered, unable to hold back a coldness in her voice that would have made Jack Frost jealous.

But Marawyn just chuckled in amusement. “Well, if you insist…” He mumbled something under his breath Pelith and Culia could not hear before leaving with false authority in his trot and the purple blanket on his back sliding down a few inches from the swish of his tail.

“Wretched beast,” Pelith whispered after him, and Culia nodded in agreement. Pelith turned to leave when Marawyn’s lazy voice sing-songed out, “I heard that, my dearies.”

Pelith shuddered at the emotionless noise and turned to Culia. “Walk me out?” she pleaded. Culia nodded and moved to the side of her friend. Pelith remembered the terrible sound of Marawyn’s laugh and despised him all the more. She reached her hand up to Culia’s back for support. Culia. Her friend. Pelith was sure she would completely blow her composure to small bits of confetti without this friend. With Culia, she was safe. With this friend-and a bit of luck, if she was honest-she just might have a chance of making it through this crazy life sane.

Chapter 4

 

Pelith sat on a soft plush bench for the second time that day. Looking out the window at the end of the hall, she could see the sun was just barely visible. The past half hour had gone by in such a blur that it felt like jumping on the back of a wild deer in an attempt to kill it felt like eons ago. Definitely not that morning. Yet, right before her eyes, folded in her lap, was her freshly bandaged wound.

Calioniel burst from her room suddenly, disturbing the silence. She looked relieved to see Pelith waiting for her, but quickly began to pull her to the stairs. “Quickly now, we’re already late. When we get there, I don’t want you asking questions. If you feel faint, let me know and we will find you a seat. But, no matter what happens, you are not to make a seen. Am I understood?”

They were at the foot of the stairs and heading towards the entryway. “Yes, Mama, but what going on?” Pelith knew she sounded like a child whining like that, but she just had to know what was happening.

“I said no questions!” A sharp, worried voice. They were at the front door and finally paused. “Now. Put on a smile,” and Calioniel forced a smile on her own face, though Pelith could still see anxiety in her eyes. They stepped through the door.

People. Many, many people were out