Page 58 of Trick
“You like berries?”
Stunned, I wheeled toward the older woman who stood beside a pen several paces away. The stall was home to hens pecking at the ground, a speckled horse staring into space, a plot of vegetable beds, and a wagon stationed in the background.
The woman’s arm slung over an empty basket that rested on her hip. “Sorry if I startled you.”
She had a voice that rose from the earth, the way I’d imagine a root would sound if it could talk. Where most people let their words float away, her speech had a sturdy quality to it.
“Not at all,” I lied. “You were saying something about berries?”
“Bundleberries.” The woman pumped her thumb toward a bush loaded with rosy morsels. “Spring’s best, they are. Mixed with the right ingredients, they’re good for baking, blood circulation, battling sleep deprivation, and preventing unwanted pregnancy. What?” she sniggered when crimson leaked into my cheeks. “This is the land of sexual plenty, dearie. It’s as easy to procreate as it is to nullify fertility. The flora and their fruits have a role there. Why, I wager these berries can do everything but reverse your age. What other fruit can you say that about?
“Also, they’re delicious. My Poet and Nicu love them. I’m not sure about you, so I’m asking before I set a berry biscuit on your plate. I’ve got a batch steaming and ready, if you like.”
I’d polished off the bread bowl yesterday and confirmed it was Autumn grain, which Poet must have brought from Basil and Fatima’s stores. We exported it from Autumn, and a few barrels had accompanied Mother and me on our journey here. The biscuits Jinny offered were likely of the same quality.
When my stomach grumbled, the woman beamed. “Sounds like a yes to me. Good morning, Your Highness.”
It took a moment for my tongue to continue functioning. “Oh, there’s no need to call me that. And um, good morning. My name is Briar.”
“You sure?”
“Unless my parents have been lying to me.”
“I meant, are you sure about giving me leave with your name? Even in frisky Spring, it isn’t proper, Highness.”
“I’m too tired for proper.”
“From the loose style of your hair, I’d say so. Would be a shame anyway, restraining such a fiery color inside a braid.” She shifted her basket to the opposite hip. “Look at me, forgetting introductions. My boys call my Old Jinny. I take it curtsying isn’t necessary? My bones can’t take it.”
I smiled. “I’m grateful to you for taking care of my leg. And the food and clothes. Oh, and the washing supplies.”
“Don’t be silly. It wasn’t any trouble. We’ve got a bathroom where you can have a proper wash later, but I figured the ewer was better for a start, especially with you just waking up. Mind you don’t get those stitches wet, though.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good. And I’ve had that frock since I was your age. Also, the bit about your leg wasn’t a chore. When Poet first came along, I had no money for a doctor. Now we have the coin but no healer we can trust with Nicu. I had to learn how to minister to my boys, and I had to learn fast. Being surrounded by medicines of the soil helped, so I’ve managed.” She wagged a finger at me. “You’re lucky you haven’t gotten infected. A hale one, you are. You’ll be walking finer than Poet by tomorrow.”
I resisted the temptation to let my eyes wander. “Where is he?”
“Just missed him. He took Nicu and Tumble to pick me a batch of yarrow.”
Poet had told me about the ferret who kept Nicu company here. As for Jinny, I could imagine how much upkeep this cottage and its crops required. Growing up among fields and orchards, I was familiar with such tasks.
I gestured to the berry bush. “May I help you?”
Jinny frowned, the trenches in her face deepening. “This work isn’t suited for a princess.”
“I prefer to labor with my hands. In Autumn, I take part in the harvest.”
“You work the fields?” she asked, taken aback.
“To rule the fields is to know them. Besides, I’d love something to do instead of sitting around. I’ve never gathered bundleberries before.”
“Then I’ll be the one to teach you after breakfast. Only, take care with your leg. Sit in the grass and gather from the bottom. I’ll mind the top of the bushes.”
After I ate and washed the biscuit down with black tea, Jinny demonstrated how to pluck the berries from above the base of their stems. She went as far as to cover my hands with her wilted ones. “Let me show you.”
My fingers went rigid. “Actually, I-I’m fine.”