Cursed Kingdom 1 - A King So Cruel by Cassidy Ellie

Author:Cassidy, Ellie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The herbalist’s cottage on the edge of town was the last stop in our week of visits. True to her word, Amelia had joined Markus, David and me on the rounds to ensure everyone was settled. Coming down from the mountain was a big adjustment and I was pretty sure there was some friction at the very least between us and them, yet I heard no complaints, no grumbles from my people. They were a hardy lot, accustomed to just getting on with doing what must be done, but I never departed a household without my instruction: If you need me, send word addressed to Jeremy at the castle. He’ll see I get it.

The stormy weather rippled the long grass as we dismounted and looped our reins at the hitching post in a copse of oaks. The awning over the porch of the stone cottage rattled, threatening to fly off its rail.

Markus and David wrapped their forest green capes tighter to keep from blowing away. The tails of Amelia’s navy riding jacket flapped, the rest was buttoned up to her chin. Her britches were double-padded in all the right places and her knee-high boots had silver buckles down the side. She loved to dress for the occasion.

I’d donned a fresh shirt after my shower, but my boots and tan leather pants were still dusty and smudged from this morning. In all honesty, Amelia would have made a much better Queen. And she probably wouldn’t have tried to carve up her royal husband’s face. I wondered if, finally, Nathanial was regretting some of his less inspired choices.

I must have sighed out loud.

Amelia sidled up to me. “It’s only been a week,” she said, glancing out over the apprentice cottage. “I won’t kick him out quite yet.”

She was speaking about Jamison, and the reason I’d made this the last stop. I’d hoped she’d tire of doing the rounds before we got to him. To say she’d been vehemently opposed to assigning him the prestigious role of junior herbalist would be a vast understatement. In fact, she’d flat out refused and I’d had to play my Queen card. I’d always have a soft spot for Jamison. He’d been my first kiss. He’d been the first—and only—boy my father had ever had to chase away. And as soon as I’d heard the junior herbalist position was vacant, I knew this was where he’d thrive. He had a timid heart, but a fierce love for nature and its unbound mystics.

The Macfarlane place, the main cottage with its mismatched extensions that had been added over the generations, was set farther back on the far side of the potted rows of medicinal herbs and root plants. Mr Macfarlane was a wizened old man with creaky bones, and arcane knowledge dripping from his gnarled fingertips that he liked to proclaim was a gift from the gods and could not be learnt from any book.

I sincerely hoped he was wrong. Jamison had tended our vegetable gardens with Anna and had a green thumb, but he knew next to nothing about growing herbs and extracting their uses.

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