She can see the excitement in his face, understanding just how important this rediscovery could be. Pushing aside her fears, she nods, “All right doctor, I will do my best.”
Though he has talent with some aspects of medicine making, his true skill must lie in tending to wounds because Coral impresses him as she prepares the ingredients with speed and accuracy, mixing the decoction with expertise. It doesn’t take her more than half of an hour to make up enough to fill a small vial, roughly the size of her palm. She takes care to leave enough open space to accommodate the spearmint leaves, assuming she is able to find any.
Coral gathers up some other supplies, several empty parchment bags, a few small leather pouches and empty vials; when the doctor looks at her curiously, she adds, “If the baker does not have any, perhaps she will know where I can harvest some. I might as well go prepared to pick up a few extra plants if I have to take a walk-are there any herbs you’re short on?”
He thinks on it, listing a few. As he walks her to the door, he throws the translated recipe she had written into the fire, “Lady Coral, I must ask that you keep this a secret for now, especially the contents of the recipe. I will inform the King as to what we are working on but it is important that this elixir remains only in your control. While I am proud to be a centaur I must be earnest with you and say this: there are some centaurs to whom chivalry is a viewed as a luxury. Further to the east, beyond our King’s borders, the lands are still wild. Centaurs live very primitively and would not hesitate to steal a maiden or two, for their own personal satisfaction. While some of those maidens escape, many meet a worse fate. It pains me to speak poorly of my brethren but if those savages were to get a hold of something like this and use it on their victims,” he shakes his head, “I’d hate to even think of how this would affect an unwilling mate. No doubt it would ruin her mind.”
Coral gets a shiver down her spine, the items in her basket seeming heavier, not only carrying the weight of peaceful, loving centaur-human relationships but also the fate of kidnapped maidens as well, “I understand, Doctor.”
She is surprised to discover that her escort is not waiting for her outside the door. She walks down the hall looking for him, before heading up the ram to the first floor still unable to see him. Making her way to her room, she feels as if she is doing something wrong and secret; not only are the doctor’s words still echoing in her head but being on her own in the castle for the first time makes her hasten. She finds her satchel in the wardrobe and transfers the basket’s contents over; packing her knife from the vanity drawer, she changes out of her soft shoes and into her old walking boots, lacing them up over her white stockings. With the bag over her shoulder she heads to the part of the castle that she last saw Quell and Vadim.
Rounding a corner down from the breakfast nook she finds the brothers as they walk out of a room together; Quell holding several papers in his hand, Vadim a book. Both men look at her as she approaches, surprised to see her.
“Good afternoon, Princes,” she says while curtsying.
“You seem to have given your escort the slip,” Vadim says with a smile.
She shrugs, “He was not outside the surgery when I left-I imagine he believed I would be there until supper. Do any of you know where he has gone? I want to head to town on an errand. For the doctor,” she adds awkwardly, trying to make it sound casual.
“I would take you myself, maiden, but I still have work to finish,” Quell says, “is it something that can wait until after dinner?”
She feels her shoulders drop, “Unfortunately I might also need to head to the woods that border the town so that I can collect some herbs. But if you are busy, perhaps I can wait until tomorrow.”
“Nonsense,” Vadim says, with a smile, “I will take you myself. As it has been made abundantly clear by our father, I am more of a burden than an aid when it comes to the books.” Winking at Quell, he hands him the book.
Quell’s face does not look happy; as a frown starts to set on it he says, “Excuse us for a moment Lady Coral, I wish a word with my brother.” Before he can get a reply, he steps into the closest room.
Vadim shrugs and follows, shutting the door behind him though it does not latch. Carefully, Coral steps closer to the door so that she can hear their conversation.
“What are you doing, Vadim?” Quell asks, his voice gritty with irritation.
“Simply coming to the assistance of our young maiden,” Vadim’s voice is as smooth as velvet.
There is a pause before Quell speaks, his voice almost dangerously low, “I have chosen her to be my mate, brother.”
“It appears that she has yet to choose you, Quell,” Vadim’s voice matches his threat, “and it seems we are at an impasse because I am very fond of Coral as well.”
“You already have a mate waiting.”
“Ack,” Vadim says exasperatedly, “one that father forces on me because I have yet to find one that matches me!”
Coral hears a soft, gentle voice near her ear, “I haven’t heard them fight like this since they were foals.”
She turns quickly to see the Queen; dropping down into a curtsy, she can feel her face burn red, “Queen Kiera, I… ah…”
The Queen looks at her as she rises, “If they didn’t want to be overheard then they shouldn’t talk so loud. It seems, Lady Coral, that they fight over you.”
She keeps her eyes down, focused on the soft white hooves that sit at the bottom of the Queen’s gown. She doesn’t know what to say so she keeps her mouth shut.
“My husband told me why he plucked you. You are a gifted young woman, full of compassion and kindness. You will make a loving, devoted mate for my son… whichever one you choose to mate with.”
Coral looks up, surprised, “I was under the impression that Prince Vadim is engaged…?”
She smiles, “He is, but I would never stop him from finding love on his own. However our law states that no human my hold the throne-just as Vadim will never be King, you would never be Queen. Not even if you mated with Quell.”
Coral shakes her head, dropping her gaze, “That doesn’t matter to me. I just… I just want to lead a simple life with the one I love, who loves me just as much.”
Kiera lifts the maiden’s chin, “Don’t fool yourself, child. Neither one of them would give you a simple life but rest assured that I have raised my sons right. Both would love you as the stars love the night sky, until the moment that they are no more. I give you and either of my sons, my blessing. Just take care to choose carefully because once you are mated, you are bound to him, and only him.” Letting her chin go, the Queen continues her walk down the hall and disappears from sight.
Vadim’s voice drifts back out to her, “Then it seems the only way to solve this is to leave the decision with her. Rest assured brother, I will bare you no ill feelings if she chooses you as her mate.”
“Finally you speak some sense, Vadim. I too will not hold it against you.”
Stunned, Coral barely hears them approach in time to back away from the door. Quell walks out first; though his face is unhappy he speaks pleasantly, “Vadim will escort you in your search for your herbs; after dinner you and I will venture back to town to look at the building, if that is agreeable with you?”
“Of course,” she says, trying to pretend as if she didn’t over hear their bickering and the Queen didn’t just offer her blessing, “I will look forward to our time together.” Her gentle smile eases Quell’s worry. He bows slightly, leaving them.
Vadim clasps his hands behind his back, walking alongside Coral, “So, my lady, where is it that we venture to?”
“To the baker,” she says quaintly, “the doctor says there is one that specializes in sweets?”
“He would most definitely know,” Vadim chuckles, “he has a terrible sweet tooth.”
As they walk through town both centaurs and humans stop to bow to Vadim as he and Coral pass. He greets each with a smile and a nod, though his attention never waivers from her. It takes them half an hour to reach the baker; the shop is towards the further end of the main road from the castle. Vadim opens the door for Coral, following in behind her, “Good day, Tillie.”
The baker is in her late thirties, plump but not unpleasantly so, her cheeks rosy and her hair a dull brown; she rushes out from behind the counter, dropping into a curtsy. Several customers also caught off guard, do their best to bow with their hands or mouths full of goods.
“Good day, Prince Vadim. It is such a pleasure-I wasn’t expecting you,” Tillie says with a smile, turning to Coral.
“This is Lady Coral,” Vadim says, introducing her.
“My lady,” the woman curtsy again, “I have heard talk around town about you-we are so fortunate to have such a talented healer join our community. I know many are looking forward to meeting you.”
Coral nods, “Thank you, Tillie. I have come in search of something and I was hoping that you might assist me.”
She looks surprised, “Of course, my lady, what can I do to help you?”
“I am in need of some fresh spearmint; once as a child when I traveled to a neighboring town, the baker there used it in her sweets so I figured who better to ask,” she smiles at the woman.
“Oh, alas, good lady, I do know the plant you speak of but I have not seen it in all my years in this town, neither for trade nor on my walks around the forest. Such a shame too, I used to make a wonderful frosting for cakes with it,” the woman frowns, remembering a life past.