Page 130 of Nightshade

Lustina gathered the basket of berries she’d picked at the request of Reverend Mother, who wished to have fresh fruit for the friar later in the afternoon. She didn’t mind the task, as it had brought her to the middle of the forest. How she had missed the days of picking berries with her mother. Those days had long since passed, however, and Lustina likely would never again know such freedom in her life.

Not too distant sounds reached her ears--screaming, as if someone was in trouble. Abandoning her basket, she ran toward the river, following the outcries to its bank, where in the middle of a stagnant pool, she saw arms flailing above the surface. A head poked up briefly, and Lustina’s heart caught in her throat to find the very young Agnes from the village calling out for help.

Without hesitation, Lustina trudged through the water, toward her, and when the shallows dipped into the depths that reached over her head, she swam toward the girl. Agnes disappeared below the surface, and with her heart thrumming inside her chest, Lustina swam faster, the skirt of her dress weighing heavy on her legs. By the time she reached the girl, Lustina’s muscles burned with fatigue, but she wrapped her arms around the limp child and pulled her back toward the shoreline. Once in the shallow waters again, Lustina dragged her up onto the bank. The girl’s dress caught on an upturned root of a tree as she hauled her farther onto the surface, until she finally lay her down well away from the river. Coughing and sputtering water, the girl squirmed and trembled.

“It is all right. You are safe, little Agnes.” Smiling with relief, Lustina rested a gentle hand on her arm to settle her, and when the child finally took a deep breath, she stared up at her with an expression of horror.

On a cough, she kicked herself backward, sitting upright, and lifted the part of her dress which had torn. Scorn burned in her eyes as she snapped her gaze back to Lustina. “You ripped my dress! You wretched witch!” A hard smack against Lustina’s cheek carried the sting of humiliation.

Lustina touched the aching spot, confused. “My apologies, young miss. I did not mean …. I only wanted to help.”

“You should have left your cursed hands to yourself! What mockery will come of this, when those in the village find out! No one will dare to come near me now because of you. You pathetic fool!” The girl scrambled to her feet and stood over Lustina, and although short in stature, her harsh and unfair words left Lustina feeling much smaller.

“Listen to me Agnes, you would have drowned had you been left out there.”

“I would have preferred it.” Lips snarled, the girl spun away from her and ran back through the forest.

With an exasperated sigh, Lustina pushed up from the muddy bank and stared down at her filthy dress. She took a moment to rinse some of it away in the river, the merciless bite of winter air shivering her bones.

As she stepped in the direction of the monastery, a scent carried on the air, catching her attention, and turning back toward the forest, she lifted her nose, noting the notes of spice that watered her tongue. Delicious. Like the venison stew her mother would garnish with morels when they were in season. Although she was expected to return soon, she decided she had to investigate that scent, and followed the invisible path deeper into the forest.

The trees opened around a small clearing--one she’d never noticed in all the times she had stolen away into the woods. Curls of smoke rose from the chimney of a cottage covered in vines. Curious, she approached, the basket of berries still clutched in her palm as she passed the stacked wood piled off to the side, the goats corralled in a pen. The scent lured her for reasons she couldn’t understand. And she found herself at the door before she realized she had rudely arrived unannounced.

Cheeks warm with embarrassment, she turned to leave, when she heard a voice call to her from the other side.

“Lustina!” Not a voice she recognized, but it seemed its owner had somehow recognized her. “Won’t you please come inside?”

Frowning, Lustina opened the door, and found a dark-skinned woman sat before a fireplace, where a pot bubbled, sending a waft of that delicious scent her way.

Dressed in colorful robes and a golden head wrap, she looked magnificent and majestic at the same time. A queen from a faraway land. At her hip sat a thorned vine, coiled like a whip. She leaned forward and stirred whatever it was that steamed inside the pot.

“I am sorry, but how do I know you?” Lustina asked, stepping inside. Heat blanketed her, driving away the chill that lingered from the cold that clung to her sopping dress.

The woman didn’t bother to look back at her, but kept on with her stirring. “It is not you who knows me, child, but I who knows you. I was a friend of your mother.”

Something warm blossomed in her chest, and Lustina could not help the smile that tugged at her lips. A friend of her mother. What luck to stumble upon her! “May I ask your name, My Lady?”

The woman’s chuckle filled the room, and she sat back, gripping the arms of her rocking chair. “Please do not address me in such formal manner. For you are like a daughter to me.”

Lowering her gaze, Lustina smiled wider at that.

“My name is Camael. I am what is known as a Sybil.”

“A seer?”

“Seer. Prophet. It is all the same.”

It suddenly made sense to Lustina that she had seen her coming. Knew before she had knocked on the door that she would be standing there. If her knowledge on seers was worth anything, the woman had likely seen her coming years before.

“Why am I here?”

The woman’s deep brown eyes held such warmth, Lustina did not feel at all strange in a stranger’s house. “Why are you here?” she echoed. “You were fated to be here.”

“Fated?”

“You believe in the heavens, child?”

Lustina looked away, pondering the question.