Marmalade's Love Potion

Penelope spent the afternoon sharing her gown designs with the Sisters. Sister Rosin bounded about, making a show of her usual humour, teasing Steph about his pumpkin dress when he joined them sometime later.

Everyone laughed, giving good-natured input while Penelope sketched in their suggestions. Yet, the atmosphere felt strained. The laughter was a little forced, smiles a little too wide. Penelope noticed as the Sisters held hands a little more tightly than usual.

By nightfall, Penelope had finished the sketches for the Sisters’ gowns, and began to plan her own.

She thought on her vision from Abel Whistleweather’s shop, that shadowy apparition of dancing mist. Closing her eyes, Penelope sought to recall all the details she could, hazy and blurred though they were in her mind’s eye.

Two dancing figures of swirling smoke, one dressed in a queenly gown. She remembered the sweeping silhouette of a layered waterfall skirt flaring like petals as she danced with her mystery partner. The sleeves had been long and form fitting, attached to a beaded bodice that had left the shoulders bare. A truly beautiful design.

Penelope opened her eyes, nibbling at her lower lip as she deliberated, charcoal tip poised above the thick paper of her sketchbook.

She glanced up at Steph, who had regained his good humour and was teasing Sister Heely as he helped her wrap bundles of garden herbs for drying. Sister Rosin darted about them, light-stepped and viper-quick as she pinched honeyed briar leaves from the stems while Sister Heely was distracted.

Steph caught Penelope’s eye and grinned before snaking out a hand to wrest the butter-brown leaf from Sister Rosin’s grip, shoving it into his mouth before she could snatch it back.

Penelope laughed at Sister Rosin’s affronted gasp and looked back down at her book. Warmth pooled in her chest as her stomach fluttered.

With a deep breath and deliberate stokes, Penelope laid down bold lines of charcoal as she sketched her dress. Loose, translucent sleeves billowed outwards to meet cuffs of silver lace. The bodice was embroidered, not with fine beads, but with flowers and shining river stones. The skirt flared outwards, not in petalled layers, but in a striking flow of rippling silk embroidered with opalescent constellations.

With a final mark, Penelope looked over her sketch with satisfaction. She would attend the Ball in a gown that reflected who she was. Daughter of the forest. Child of the stars. A woman walking betwixt the two, treading the path of her own fate.

With a resolute nod, Penelope set aside her sketchbook to help make evening tea. Though not before pinching the leaf, another pilfered prize, from Steph’s grasp as he held it behind his back, retreating from Sister Rosin’s advance.

“Betrayal!” he cried, as Penelope giggled, enjoying the sugary snap of the winter treat on her tongue. Chaos erupted as they all chased each other around the kitchen table, and Penelope felt at home.

✧✧✧

The next morning, Sister Rosin prepared to take Steph back to Grimwood Village.

Penelope’s chest ached as she lingered on the front porch, watching the ashen blue of dawn warm to pink as the sun rose.

Sister Rosin stomped about, chatting with Cynthia as she fixed the mare to their wagon. Carried on a chill breeze, the scents of ice and fragrant wood mingled with the sweet treacle of Cynthia’s oats. Penelope shivered and drew her coat tighter about herself.

Steph leaned against a wooden beam by the front steps, watching Sister Rosin with a sad smile.

“Penelope... before I leave, I need to tell you something.” Steph snapped his gaze to hers and she stepped closer. Anxiety, sadness, and fluttery nerves twisted in her stomach, feelings that were mirrored in Steph’s eyes.

He held out a hand and she placed her palm in his as she moved close enough for their misted breaths to mingle in the winter air.

“I just, I need you to understand something about me, before I go. I don’t like what I saw in the woods the other day. I don’t want the woods to be harmed. Certainly not enough to want to do harm back to us.” Steph huffed a laugh, shaking his head as his expression became serious again. Penelope nodded slowly, waiting for Steph to continue.

“I just need you to know that I want things to be done differently than how we saw them. I don’t really understand it. I mean, I always just thought we hunted and gathered, and explored and studied, and tried to understand the woods. Not... not whatever that was... I don’t...”

Penelope stood on her toes and pressed their foreheads together, trying to ease Steph’s distress. She nodded, rubbing their cold noses together. “I know, I understand. I do. You’re not them. I understand not everyone in Grimwood will be like they were. You don’t have the power to make them stop.”

“But what if I am? What if I do? Penelope, I’m trying to say that I am them! I could speak with them. Maybe I could make them change the way they do things.”

“You’re... a Grimwood Ranger?” Penelope furrowed her brow, tilting her head in confusion as she stepped backwards.

“No! I mean, yes, actually. Sort of, but not quite... argh, it’s a bit complicated,” Steph winced as he struggled to articulate himself.

“I thought you worked in the kitchens..?” Penelope murmured as she stepped back again, frowning in confusion. Steph looked stricken as Penelope put more distance between them.

“I do! Sometimes. Just, not officially, really, but I spend a lot of time there...” Steph trailed off with a panicked look as Penelope turned to look out over the forest. She could feel the corners of her mouth pulling downwards as the fretful anxiety in her chest turned to a heavy sort of uncertainty.

“Is... is that not okay?” Steph took a step forward, but stopped when Penelope leant back.

“I... yes? I’m not sure. Sorry, it’s just... You’re sort of a Grimwood Ranger, but also not. And you work in the kitchens, but also don’t..? Steph, I don’t really understand.”

Steph opened his mouth to reply, but Penelope continued, “And you go out into the forest to... to...”

“Nothing like what we saw in the woods... I promise you, Penelope, I didn’t know about that. I’ve hunted, and gathered, and trained in some combat. But I’ve never been that deep into the Darkwood, my brother won’t allow it.” Steph grimaced and looked down before he captured Penelope’s gaze again, his eyes imploring. “I didn’t know that’s what they... that’s we did. Do.” Steph groaned into his hands. “I’m all spun around by it, to be honest.” Steph’s face was miserable.

“I just need you to understand we don’t all think the same way. Don’t all feel the same way about everything.” Steph’s eyes filled with tears as Penelope deliberated, huffing in relief when she nodded and stepped closer.

“I understand. Just... why didn’t you say anything before now, about being... not quite a sort-of Ranger?” Penelope smiled as Steph laughed through his nose.

“I was terrified you’d all turn me out, honestly. What with being on death’s door, I was afraid to risk it.” Steph laughed, but his smile trembled.

Penelope shook her head. “We’d never.”

“I know... You’re all such wonderful people. I just. Mostly... I didn’t want you to...”

“To judge you?”

“To hate me.” A tear fell down Steph’s face. “You honestly still might. There’s so much I need you to know, but I’m afraid to say.”

Penelope thought of all the moments they had shared together. The gentle teasing. Warm fingers threaded through hers. Quiet afternoons spent watching golden flames or pearlescent snowdrifts.

She had come to trust Steph, in all his gentle affection and sweet humour, his optimism resilient even in the face of horror. Penelope swallowed around the lump in her throat as she regarded him now, his expression wan and anxious.

Penelope brushed at a lock of his hair, moving forward to press her lips to his cheek.

“I couldn’t ever hate you, Steph. If there are things you need me to understand about you, I want to know them. When you’re ready.”

Steph opened his mouth, longing and indecision in his gaze as he wrestled with himself. His face crumpled as he shook his head and looked away, closing his mouth with a click of his teeth. “I’m sorry. I just... I’m—”

“It’s alright,” Penelope soothed as she ran a hand through his curls, even as her heart sank. She ached for him to trust her. To share everything with her. He leaned into her hand as she pressed her face to his chest.

“Will you let me dance with you, at the Ball?”

Penelope pinched her brows again, hope flaring in her chest. “You’ll be there?”

“I will. I’ll make sure of it. And if it’s all awful, I’ll steal you away to the kitchens and we’ll spend the night eating pie.”

“Only if that’s a promise.” Penelope tilted her head, peering up at Steph’s face as he smiled.

“That’s a promise.”

Penelope clung to Steph as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested a cheek in her hair. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring. What her parents would demand of her, nor the path she might have to walk. But she could claim this moment, this tenderness, as hers. Her heart squeezed at the thought of having to let it all go. Yet, for a few fragile beats, she indulged herself to hope.

They parted as Sister Rosin cleared her throat. “Your carriage and noble steed await, good sir.”

Steph laughed. “Thank you, fair lady.”

“Oi, watch who you go around calling ‘lady’,” Sister Rosin teased with a pinch to Steph’s side that had him doubled over laughing.

“Ticklish!” He wheezed. “My mistake... never again!”

Sister Rosin gave a sanctimonious nod, then a none-too-subtle wink at Penelope. “I’ll wait up front, when you’re ready.”

Sister Rosin trod down the steps and clambered into the driver’s seat. Steph lifted Penelope’s hand to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles.

“Until the Dark Moon Ball, Princess Penelope of Starwood.”

“Until then, Steph of Many Mysteries.”

With a laugh and a playful flourish, Steph leaped down the stairs and climbed into the seat beside Sister Rosin.

Penelope waved until the cart was out of sight, and lingered until the night’s frost began to thaw in the morning sun.