Kore's Field by N. C. Sellars

Author:N. C. Sellars [Sellars, N. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eskar, LLC
Published: 2018-04-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

In the weeks following the fire, spring descended upon Myrilla in a whirl of color. New buds filled the trees, nestling on their branches like a green mist. Bursts of pink and gold and purple broke out in new places every day, and I could scarcely keep up with the work in the garden. The flowers seemed to bloom before my very eyes, and the air was heavy with the scent of apple blossoms. Long, trailing vines of sun bells covered the castle walls, their yellow and red blooms offset by their striking black leaves. Brambling dragonlace grew wild along the roads and paths all through the kingdom, white and pink and giving off a sweet, peppery scent. Daffodils in yellow and blue covered the meadows, providing endless nectar for the fat, droning bees, and lilies of every hue spread wide their long, elegant petals. Tangled curtains of wild roses and honeysuckle tumbled over the low stone walls surrounding the fields. The kingdom had truly transformed.

Every day the farms showed new promise. The river swelled from the warm spring rains and set the farmers to irrigating their fields with new vigor. Adam and I rode out to watch them carefully directing the thin streams of water with their spades, using the ancient methods passed down by their fathers and grandfathers. It was slow, painstaking work and absolutely mesmerizing to watch. It wasn’t long before tiny green shoots peppered every vegetable patch.

Of course, the greatest joy of all came from the wheat fields. When I peered through the iron gate and saw the first flecks of green sprouting throughout the black field, I nearly wept for relief. It wasn’t a guarantee—Myrilla had seen green wheat crops die plenty of times—so there was still much patience to be endured. Only when the wheat grew taller than my waist, golden and strong, with its heavy head of berries would we be assured of a harvest.

It seemed we took the air nearly every day. When we weren’t receiving requests from the people, Adam and I spent hours together in my garden. Weeds sprang up as fast as I could clear them, especially following rain, and on those days Adam put aside his lyre and helped me. I’m sure the lords and ladies of Myrilla would have clutched their sides in mirth to see their king and queen crouching in the flowerbeds, arms and hands streaked with black earth. It was good fun, though, and Adam and I laughed together quite often. We took our bows to the archery butts and Adam continued to teach me; we rode out with the court to view the spring and early summer flowers; we spread rugs beneath the great oak trees in the courtyard and invited the servants to join us in a picnic of cold chicken, fruit tarts, and sweetened lemon juice.

One afternoon we were walking through the apple orchards, admiring the ripening fruit, when Adam pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket.

“My father and mother are hosting a banquet at their castle in a fortnight,” he said.

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