Page 5 of A Rose Among Snakes (Gardens of Ruin and Revival)
Chapter Four
T he twins cried and wrapped their wiry arms tight around me when I said my goodbyes the next morning. They were sad to see me go but a passing dog pulled Sashir’s attention, and he tugged Savine along with a holler of delight. My mother was still angry and confused by my departure, even after we’d discussed it late into the night.
We stood across from one another, stubbornly holding each other’s gaze. She caved first, her face crumpling into tears as she flung her arms around me in a vice-grip.
“You don’t have to go, Mihrra.”
My throat thickened with emotion as I inhaled the spring scent from her loose hair tickling my nose. “I do. I can’t make the same amount of money here in Roben. It’s time for me to spread my wings.”
She pulled back and cupped my cheek, tears still spilling down her face. “Then fly away, my little dove, but promise me something? Come back to me, Mihrra.”
“Of course, Mama.” I hugged her one more time. “I love you.”
Behind her, Jehiam stood in the doorway, leaning on it for support. His pallor had improved, but I didn’t miss the tremor in his hands as he clasped them in front of himself. I pried my mother off with gentle hands and moved to stand in front of him. Since acknowledging the resemblance to our father, it’d become all the more striking.
I kept my voice low as I said, “You look exactly like him, Jem. He would believe that you can make better decisions now. I believe you can, too. Make us both proud.”
Tears welled in his eyes and he lifted his arms and cocked his head to the side, resembling an infant requesting to be held. I stepped into his embrace and was surprised to realize my chin barely cleared his shoulder. How many years had I wasted not hugging my brother?
In my ear, he whispered, “He’d already be so proud of you, Mihrra.”
I tightened my grip, unwilling to let go. Too much had changed between us in such a short time.
“I’ll tell you everything I find out,” I said, forcing myself to release him. I held him at arm's length, gave his shoulders one last squeeze, and stepped back. “When Ambrelle returns from her trip, tell her I’m sorry and I will write to her. I’ll see you soon.”
With that, I picked up my luggage and hauled it down the winding path through Roben. I took the time to catalog the way my village looked as the sun peeked over the Kroppenish Mountains to dry the early morning dew. Wildflowers bloomed along the side of the road and between the trees and homes scattered throughout the sloping hills. Overhanging branches laden with the vibrant green leaves of mid-spring dripped moisture on my head as I passed. Roosters crowed as horses neighed, cattle lowed, and dogs barked their demands for food. Villagers waved as they exited their thatch-roofed homes to set about their daily chores. I continuously denied offers of assistance, knowing the sight of me toting around luggage would be the talk of the village for weeks, and I wanted to leave them all with a parting gift.
The sleek, forest green brougham from Blaise Manor was waiting at the bottom of the hill, a single dark bay horse at the front. I stopped and chewed the inside of my cheek, glancing back over my shoulder. Was it a mistake leaving my family and the only home I’d ever known?
“Ms. Nowen?”
I swung my head around, my golden braid following and slapping my back like a thick rope. “Yes?”
A man dressed in tailored, black pants with a matching waistcoat smiled at me. His brown hair was combed to the side, and his gray eyes stared at the luggage in my hands. “Ms. Nowen, I was sent by the Blaise family to deliver you to the manor. Can I take your bags?”
I opened and closed my mouth, looking down at my hands. My tongue felt thick but I stepped forward saying, “Please.”
He met me in the middle and took my bags, securing them to the top of the carriage. He opened the door and offered me a hand up.
Before closing it he said, “My name is Milner, by the way.”
I met his friendly smile with my own shaky one. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Milner. Please, call me Mihrra. ”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mihrra.” He inclined his head and shut the door with a gentle click.
The tufted, white leather seat released a puff of air as I settled myself on the bench. The carriage swayed as Milner took his seat, and then with a snap of the reins, we were moving forward. I screwed my eyes shut, willing the hot tears to stay behind my eyelids as we drove out of Roben and entered the forest. Deep breaths helped me gain control of my panic as we traveled further away from my tiny village. I wished there was more to see than the mossy tree trunks surrounding us, but that was all that lay between Roben and Port Deering.
Three days prior I had been absolutely stunned when I had entered the Port for the first time. My mother had spoken of it as if it were one of the most dangerous places in the entire continent of Ilesand; a town filled with gambling, drinking, and volatile criminals. Her vilification had all taken place before my father died. She hadn’t mentioned it since, except for when Ziffem first appeared in the village and she said it probably came from ‘that horrid Port Deering.’
It was a three-hour brougham ride to the coast, and before I knew it, sunlight broke through as the dismal wall of trees came to an abrupt end. I scooted to the other side of the bench and held my breath as I took in the sights.
The sky was a brilliant blue, devoid of even a single cloud to mar its beauty. Gulls swooped overhead, dancing in the gusty wind. Milner maneuvered the brougham through the crowded streets, and as he rounded a corner, I caught a glimpse of the docks. However, it wasn’t the chaos of men milling about hauling large crates on and off ornately decorated ships that gave me goosebumps; it was the ocean. Three days ago, when I had interviewed with the housekeeper of Blaise Manor, we’d met in a building on the other side of town and I had not seen the water. But now I was utterly transfixed. Every aspect of it was mesmerizing, from the stunning shades of the turquoise water to the sheer vastness of it. I knew the port was on the water, but I hadn’t realized just how close I would come to the ocean. It was astounding how something could be so beautiful yet equally terrifying.
The carriage hit a bump, knocking my forehead against the glass and pulling me from my reverie. We turned a corner and I glanced ahead to see the road leading up a steep, winding hill out of the bustling town. My stomach flipped as I remembered where exactly I was headed and how close we must have been. I folded my hands in my lap and bounced my leg, trying to release my nervous energy.
Blossoming trees lined the path, showering the brougham in pink petals as we climbed the hill. After a few more minutes of traversing the tree-lined path, we reached level ground and I slid back to the other end of the bench. The view in front of me was stunning. An array of flower beds sprinkled the expansive green lawn, boasting tulips in shades of red, yellow, and fiery orange. White and pink begonias dotted the edges along with voluminous bushes of lavender .
I heard Milner say “Woah,” as the carriage came to a stop. I was startled by the door opening with a creak, revealing a red-haired young man with large brown eyes and a broad smile.
“Afternoon, ma’am.” He held his hand out and I accepted his assistance, anticipation swirling in my stomach. No turning back.
“Good afternoon.” My feet landed softly in a manicured patch of grass and the man released my hand.
“Need some help, Milner?” The red-haired man went to help the coachman with my bags, giving me a moment to take in the house.
I craned my neck back to look all the way up, shielding my eyes against the sun blazing high above. The gabled peaks reached clear up into the sky. Beautiful, weather-worn brick covered the exterior of the manor, broken up by several large windows. Sun glittered off a rectangular stained glass window perched high above the wooden front doors, but the glare made it impossible for me to make out the design. Wisteria grew on the left side of the manor, weaving its way along the grout of the bricks and climbing up to the roof. The briny scent of sea salt mixing with lavender left a pleasant sting in my nose.
Truly, I had never seen such a stunning home before, and it was surreal to think this was where I would live for the foreseeable future. The front door opened without a sound and a woman in her late sixties emerged. Mrs. Shulling, the housekeeper, was dressed in a prim, high-collared, navy-blue gown with a white apron tied around her waist. Her brown hair was streaked with silver and pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. She stepped forward, a polite smile on her face.
“Ms. Nowen, it’s wonderful to see you again. I trust your ride over was pleasant?”
“Hello, Mrs. Shulling,” I said with a curtsy. “The drive was lovely. Thank you for sending the carriage.”
Mrs. Shulling waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, child. Mr. Blaise insisted. Come, let’s introduce you to him and Ms. Blaise.”
My stomach flipped for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and my palms grew sweaty. “What about my bags?”
“Franz will deliver them to your room,” she replied, spinning to walk back into the manor. The red-haired man, presumably Franz, strode past with my bags in hand and used his foot to hold the door open for me.
While the exterior of the home was beautiful, the interior was exquisite. It featured rich wood floors and thick molding with carved vines and flowers. Extravagant, plush rugs in shades of black, brown, and cream lined the hallway, providing a cozier feeling than I would have imagined. Paintings of various landscapes were strategically placed along the wood-paneled walls; a ship at sea, a field of wildflowers, and a towering mountain. An iron chandelier with unlit candles hung from the middle of the tall ceiling. The air was warm, and the familiar scent of woodsmoke drifted from the small hearth in the far corner, coals still simmering in the ashes .
Mrs. Shulling led the way through the foyer and down a wide hallway, stopping at a set of wooden doors, one slightly ajar. Voices inside quieted when she knocked.
“Come in,” said a man’s deep voice. Mrs. Shulling pushed open the door and beckoned for me to follow. The room was not very big, wall-to-wall bookcases enclosing it further, but a large window to the right let in plenty of natural light. Candles burned in sconces on the walls, the scent of melting wax mingling with the parchment and leather of old books.
Two men sat at a wooden desk across from each other and rose as we walked in.
Mrs. Shulling curtsied as she said, “Mr. Blaise, allow me to introduce Ms. Nowen. She will be attending to your sister.”
I dropped my head and curtsied, and as I stood, my heart stuttered. He was striking. He had olive skin with a sun-kissed glow, a sharp jawline, a finely chiseled nose, and a smile that took my breath away. His wavy, brown hair was swept back, except for one lock that fell forward to mingle with his long, dark eyelashes. And those eyes—a vibrant shade of green, like sparkling emeralds. Green eyes that pinned me right where I stood. Green eyes that took me back to two days ago.
Mr. Blaise was the stranger in the woods.