Chapter 5
757 Words
It was dusk when Genevieve returned home, the sky painted in bruised purples and gold. She moved quickly through the narrow path, her satchel heavy on her shoulder, when a familiar voice called out.
“Genevieve,” Lucienne said, stepping from the shadows with a sly smirk, “are you really going to throw yourself at the General so quickly? Do you think a man like him could be beguiled by a common healer?”
Genevieve’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your tongue, Lucienne. I am not here for your lessons in how men deceive themselves.”
Lucienne chuckled softly, as if she had expected nothing less. “Careful, little cousin. Pride can sting worse than a fever.”
Genevieve said nothing more. She brushed past her, ignoring the taunt, and entered her quarters quietly, closing the door behind her.
A few moments later, the door burst open again. “Genevieve! Are you hurt? Did he, did the General harm you?” Avana’s eyes were wide with worry, her hands fluttering as if they might do something to protect her sister.
“I’m fine,” Genevieve replied, rolling her eyes. “Nothing happened. I am perfectly well.”
Avana exhaled loudly, relief flooding her features. “Good,” she said, a grin tugging at her lips. “For a moment there, I thought I would have to throttle him myself.”
Genevieve raised an eyebrow. “Throttling the General? I think that might get you tossed out of the village faster than you can say ‘Sword of the Phoenix.’”
Avana laughed, bumping her shoulder playfully against Genevieve. “Then I’ll just practice on you first.”
“Careful,” Genevieve warned, though the corners of her lips twitched despite herself. “If you fall, I will not catch you.”
The two sisters laughed together, the tension of the evening melting between them. Outside, the sky darkened, and the first stars blinked to life, silent witnesses to their quiet relief.
After a moment, Avana turned back toward the kitchen. “I’ll bring you some dinner,” she said, “but before that, can you sort through the herbs old Ma Narba left? They’ve gone a bit musty, and I’m too tired.”
Genevieve nodded, though fatigue tugged at her limbs. “I will,” she said quietly.
When her sister left, the room fell into silence. Genevieve set down her satchel and sighed, the tension of the evening weighing heavily on her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself simply breathe.
Genevieve’s small chamber above the pharmacy was her sanctuary. Tiny, barely allowing ten steps from cot to window, yet fiercely her own.
This evening, however, the silence felt too large and her thoughts too loud. She hoped he would get better. His fever had only just begun to break when she left.
Genevieve, with curves that beautifully filled out her simple gowns, found her attention constantly wandering. Her soft golden-brown eyes focused on everything but the herbs she was meant to be sorting.
Her older sister, Avana, found her there, leaning against the doorframe. Ever observant, she immediately commented on Genevieve’s strange distraction.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, or worse, fallen in love,” Avana declared.
“I assume the latter, because I hear that handsome ghost’s wounds are already much improved.”
Genevieve scoffed, attempting a look of severe professional detachment.
“Oh, you are such a terrible liar,” Avana giggled, sitting on the cot.
“You talk about him like he’s a festering poultice, but your cheeks are the color of those strange golden poppies that grow on the ridge. Tell me, does he show interest in you?”
“He called my eyes serious, which is hardly a romantic compliment,” Genevieve replied.
Avana laughed. “Very well then. But tell me… is his chest chiseled like the mountain rocks?”
Genevieve countered, her low, steady voice attempting to bring sobriety to the conversation.
“His muscles just mean he’s good at killing, not that he’s worth a second thought. Keep your foolish notions to yourself.”
“Right,” Avana said, finally standing up, her eyes wide with mock seriousness. “And goats can fly off the high peak.”
She dramatically swirled her way out of the room, the abrupt movement catching the edge of a tapestry.
From the door, Genevieve caught a glimpse of her father’s solemn expression, but he said nothing and walked away.
- Writer
