THIRTEEN: Sephora

"Your betrothed?" I inquired, quite taken aback.

"Yes, no one else possesses that particular piece of jewellery but her," he responded, still sporting a smile.

"My apologies, but she's rather impolite. I worry for you; it's no simple task to manage a woman of her nature," I remarked, and he chuckled softly.

"Allow me to share a little secret with you," he said, leaning closer to me while maintaining a respectful distance. "I'm actually attempting to extricate myself from her."

My eyes widened in surprise. Prince Igor didn't strike me as the type to offend others for his own pleasure. He must truly have reservations about her. "Is she truly that disagreeable?"

"Well, for one; she lacks any interest in literature, of course like most women of our realm. She only enjoys idle chatter about mundane matters. I fear we're ill-suited. Despite my attempts to signal my disinterest, she persists in pursuing me," he sighed. "I shouldn't be divulging this to you, but you don't strike me as the type to engage in gossip. I have a good feeling about you," he smiled warmly at me.

He was correct; I despised gossip more than anything on Earth. However, I frequently listened in on conversations because I understood that information equaled power. Did I participate in the discussions? Never. Mostly because I was always inadvertently overhearing conversations.

Perhaps it was due to my elevated status as a handmaid; the parlour maids often viewed me as a threat, or so I presumed. Whenever I entered a room where they were conversing, they would abruptly stop speaking.

The only person who spoke to me so openly was Lisette. She even confided in me about things she had heard from the parlour maids. While I considered her to be a notorious gossip, she provided me with valuable insights into matters I was unaware of. Though I was grateful to her for it.

In essence, I understood my role, and it wasn't my place to divulge anyone's secrets, especially if they had confided in me.

"Why are you headed to the apothecary anyway?" Igor inquired, leading me through a doorway that opened up to a garden of herbs, I presumed.

"I have a slight headache," I lied, and he nodded, without pressing further.

A man was bent over the garden, apparently plucking weeds, when Igor cleared his throat to catch his attention. "Are you plucking weeds or plotting world domination in that garden of yours?" Igor quipped with a playful grin, eliciting a chuckle from the man as he looked up from his work.

"If I were to be given a coin for every time you cracked a witty joke, I fear I'd be a pauper," the man remarked, straightening up and dusting his hands on his apron. Turning towards us with a smile, he noticed me standing beside Igor. His smile faltered slightly, and he looked at Igor with a puzzled expression. "You've brought someone along," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Why he was disappointed, I had no clue, but he certainly did not bother to conceal it.

"Gillian, meet Sephora, was it?" Igor turned to me for confirmation, and I nodded, surprised that he even knew my name. "Sephora, this is Gillian, the palace apothecary," he added, and I curtsied.

"My pleasure to meet you," I offered politely. He reluctantly returned the greeting; it seemed my presence was unwelcome to him for reasons known only to him.

"Sephora here has a slight headache and has come for one of your remedies," Igor explained to him. Although I wanted to interject and confess that I had lied about it, something inside me simply allowed him to continue speaking.

Gillian appeared rather youthful for an apothecary; typically, apothecaries were elderly men who had devoted their entire lives to travelling and studying plants and medicine. He seemed more like an apprentice than a fully-fledged apothecary, which impressed me nonetheless.

"You're quite the young apothecary; it's quite admirable," I remarked, noticing a small smile forming on his face. It seemed he enjoyed receiving compliments.

"I'm brighter than my peers, or so I've been told," he boasted.

Igor reiterated, "His father was an apothecary and had taken him under his wing since he was a child."

"Oh, allow me to bask in my glory, Ig– Your Majesty," he immediately corrected himself. It appeared they shared quite an informal relationship, much like Aiyana and I.

I trailed behind him as he guided me into a chamber suffused with the aroma of herbs and spices. Igor remained amidst the garden, gingerly navigating through the herbs to the potted plants arranged upon a table.

"The most efficacious remedy for a headache, I would prescribe, is feverfew tea. Brew a pot and rest, you shall be restored," he advised, offering me a sachet of tea.

"I beg your pardon, but I am quite well. I hesitated to correct Prince Igor, because it seemed frivolous to visit the apothecary for nothing," I confessed, hoping my contrition was evident. "I was unaware of his destination until he mentioned it, and I am at a loss for my own rambling," I added, offering a sheepish smile.

"Indeed, the apothecary holds little intrigue for most. There is scarcely excitement to be found here, at least not for you," he remarked, preparing to depart.

"Might I linger for a while? I vow not to impede your work. I have harboured an interest in horticulture for some time," I inquired, hopeful of his acquiescence.

When he didn't respond, I pressed on, "Having served as a handmaid all my days, and recently relieved of my duties in preparation for my ascent to the rank of lady royal, I find myself adrift with newfound leisure. Though I lack the skill of literary or musical proficiency, I am eager to learn, and gardening appears to be a more attainable pursuit."

"Absolutely, steer clear of the other stores, except for the gardening tools shop, situated over there," he pointed to a small door at the far end of the herb garden. "Since I lack an apprentice, please be mindful not to harm my plants. Or if you prefer, you can have your own little plot to experiment with for now," he mentioned, seeming to want to wrap up our conversation and get back to his duties.

"I shall attire myself appropriately. Thank you ever so much," I exclaimed, hurrying out of the chamber, a rare grin plastered on my face.