“I was beginning to think you were going to ignore my knock.” He adopted the politely neutral tone he usually reserved for interacting with unfamiliar servants. The way the young woman positioned herself to keep him from seeing further into the room gave Edmund a fuzzy sense of familiarity. 
   She didn’t answer him immediately.
   The large eyes that dominated her pale oval face held his unabashedly for a moment that seemed to last for merely a heartbeat, but left him with a deep impression. The dark green was threaded through with dashes of light green that seemed to shift in the depths, reminding him of the way the leaves in the forests surrounding the Keep swayed in the sunlight of a summer's day. However, it was not the bewitching color that held his attention.
   Ever since he was young, he had been told how unsettling his mismatched gaze was.  Yet she boldly looked directly into his eyes without a flicker of discomfort. Instead, it seemed she had to force herself to look away as she pointedly tore her gaze from his and proceeded to examine the rest of him. 
   He could see why the physician had suspected that the young knight had gone so far as to fake an injury for a chance to visit the apothecary. He wouldn’t call her an outstanding beauty, but he would easily admit that something about her was captivating. 
   Her features were an interesting mixture of delicate and firm. The plump lips that she pursed as her gaze dropped to the wound on his forearm were a soft pink. The graceful sweep of the nose, which scrunched in displeasure, had a light smattering of freckles that added a hint of liveliness to her fair skin. However, when viewed next to the pale green wrapping that hid her hair from sight, she appeared as pale as fine porcelain. Her elegantly shaped brows furrowed. Brows that he didn’t fail to notice were a deep shade of red.
    His eyes flicked downward, searching for her hands to confirm the one detail he remembered clearly, only to be thwarted. The way she had positioned herself, obviously intending to block him from entering the room, kept both hands out of sight.
   He slid his gaze back to her face and noticed that a soft flush had crept into her cheeks, staining them a vibrant pink. Noting that her gaze was trained on his chest, he felt a tiny amount of satisfaction. She wasn’t as nonchalant as she was pretending to be.
    She was small in stature, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, and he took advantage of his size and momentary distraction to move into her personal space, forcing her backward. Unwilling to allow him too close to her, she took the expected step backward, allowing him to cross the threshold successfully. Edmund continued to stride forward, placing himself firmly inside the room and taking quick stock of what he found inside.
   “You must be Rosa, the apothecary. Nice to formally meet you.” He was unable to keep a tiny amount of satisfaction from leaking into his voice as she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. His instincts were telling him that he had found the person who could answer many of his questions. Resolved, he turned to scan the room, seeking to identify whoever she had been speaking to.
   He was vaguely acquainted with the stillroom at home in the Keep, having visited it a handful of times over the years. His memory was of a small, clean room next to the infirmary, filled with neatly stacked bundles of dried herbs and racks of basic remedies. That was a far cry from what unfolded before him.
   A wall filled with windows bathed the surprisingly large space in warm natural light. To the right, the wall was inlaid with rows of shelves. Jars and bottles in various shapes, sizes, and colors lined the shelves, spaced evenly and with their labels written in a clear and precise script, perfectly aligned and ostensibly filled with various elixirs and concoctions. 
   The center of the room was occupied by several heavy wooden tables, placed evenly throughout the space, creating clear paths between workstations. The table closest to the windows was covered with neat rows of baskets filled with herbs in various stages of bundling, waiting to join the other bundles hanging to dry on the racks that were suspended from the ceiling. The other tables held strange instruments and apparatus so clean that the reflected light gleamed off the surfaces of the polished metal and crystalline glass that curled and twisted, sitting at precisely spaced intervals. He could guess their uses, however, as many appeared to be involved with what looked like various stages in the completion of concoctions. There was even a pot bubbling away on the nearest table, the fragrant steam rising from it filling the air.
    His assessing gaze finished its sweep over the room as he analyzed what he saw. No clutter intruded, every inch was used, but it was clear to even a layman that there was a strict system in place. The room gave the overall impression of being occupied by a mad scientist with some sort of organizational obsession. With what little he knew of the profession, Edmund hazarded a guess that every possible instrument that a talented young apothecary might need could be found here. The only thing missing was whoever the young woman had been speaking to. Other than herself, the room contained no other living beings. 
   Several deep cabinets, their tops almost reaching the ceiling, were spaced along the wall to the left, doors firmly closed. They were large enough; perhaps whoever it was had concealed themselves within one. He had only heard one voice, and thus only pieces of one side of the conversation. Considering the scheme that had brought him here searching her out, his suspicions were engaged. 
    “A full day’s work can be ruined by a stray draft.” Her voice finally flowed out in response to the eyebrow he raised at the now firmly closed door. “What brings Your Grace to my humble workshop?” Her tone was brisk. Her continued stance next to the door made it clear that she intended to usher him right back out as soon as she could. 
   Now that she was not mostly hidden behind a door, he was able to observe more than just her face. She stood calmly under his assessing gaze, not fidgeting or showing discomfort, though she did avoid meeting his gaze with her own, instead looking pointedly towards the tables, presumably at the work he was interrupting. Her hands were tucked into the pockets in the front of a large, colored apron she wore over her clothing, thwarting him again. Underneath the apron, she wore a dress of simple design made from coarse muslin. Its tight sleeves and high neck, combined with the headscarf, left her face as the only skin exposed. The dusty golden color complemented her coloring and paired well with the light green of the headscarf. 
   If he were to hazard a guess, the young woman before him was most likely only a year or two shy of his own twenty-one, though she exuded a sense of mature authority here in her domain. 
   “Doctor Petiole gave me a prescription in the hopes that you would fill it for me.” Maintaining his neutral tone, he held up the slip of paper the doctor had provided him, forcing her to move closer to him take it. He watched with anticipation as her hand left her pocket, hoping to finally match the image of those pale scarred hands in his mind to their real-life counterparts. He almost groaned in disappointment when her gloved fingers reached out and grasped it. “The good doctor could not keep himself from singing your praises. He mentioned that it was a shame a young talent such as yourself was confined to a single household.”
   At his words she glanced down at the note she now held, a look of irritation crossing her face. After unfolding and reading it, she snorted and shook her head before refolding it. “Pay little attention to Doctor Petiole, Your Grace. He often gives me more credit than I deserve. I am just a simple apothecary carrying out her duties.” She brushed past him, heading for the closest work table. For a moment, as she passed, an elusive fragrance wafted through the air, teasing something in his mind. 
    The doctor had been fairly transparent in his hopes for Edmund to recruit Rosa and take her out to ‘expand her experience’. He hadn’t looked at it’s contents, but most likely, the note had hinted at the possibility of her leaving with him. It seemed from her attitude that she did not share the good doctor’s ambitions. 
     She turned a knob on one of the silver burners near the bubbling pot and held the edge of the note in the flame until it caught. After watching it burn, she turned to the work that he assumed she had been engaged in before he arrived. She picked up a bundle of herbs and lifted it to her nose before discarding it and picking up another, making it clear that she saw no need to continue the conversation. 
   Edmund watched silently for a moment. He was almost certain at this point that Rosa was the woman he had spent the night with. Though her actions today were puzzling. The slight bloodstains on the sheets were enough to assure him of her previous status as a maiden. While he had never personally been in this situation before, he was a knight and commander who had spent years amongst his men. Similar situations were fairly common place. Etiquette clearly demanded that he, as a gentleman, take some form of responsibility for his actions, even if he was drugged. 
    If she had been a noble’s daughter, he would have had no choice but to marry her. He was sure that had been the purpose for the whole scheme, though the other protagonist was supposed to be the Marquis’s daughter. 
   With a woman of lower status, such as Rosa, the woman in question should at least demand some form of compensation. Yet she had left before he awoke this morning and now seemed intent on acting as if they had never met before. What could she possibly hope to gain from that?
  “Don’t undervalue your achievements. The good doctor used a few of your medications to treat my wound. I am well acquainted with the usual treatment methods for the common injuries that knights sustain. Your compilations are far above the common remedies. Petiole stressed that you were a master of complex formulas, practically a magician with herbs. He told me that your more advanced elixirs could even alter someone’s state of mind while leaving them perfectly healthy.” He watched her closely. He had been drugged with something he didn’t recognize, and the Castle boasted a prodigy apothecary who ended up in his bed instead of the planned beneficiary. Later was she intending to play a demure victim or perhaps a selfless heroine saving him from her employer’s sinister plot, hoping to gain a larger reward?  
     She paused her work for a moment and gave him a searching look. Then she shrugged off the pointed tone in his voice and went back to her work. “Being able to ease the mental fatigue of warriors after the battle is done can save a life just as easily as a shield can block a blade.” 
  “Such concoctions have so many purposes. Though not all are as innocent as they appear. For such a young girl to think of such things shows how far reaching your ability is, and how kind your heart. Such ability requires a strong will, however, lest it be turned against it’s original purpose.” This time, he kept his gaze steady on her face, watching for her reaction. 
   “I’m sure any elixir could be turned to some shady purpose if considered with a devious mind. Do you possess such a mind, Your Grace? I know I don’t. A medicine is just a tool, it’s the hand that pours it that decides it’s purpose.” She barely glanced up this time, and it was said so matter-of-factly that he could sense no hint of deception.
    “It is heartening to know that you have a clear mind and conscience.” He moved closer, hoping to catch a hint of that scent from earlier. “Doctor Petiole indicated that you might wish to expand your knowledge and practice beyond the walls of the Castle, Rosa. With your obvious skills, even able to alter a grown man’s perception of reality, I doubt there is a position you couldn’t find a way to achieve if you so wish.” Leaning against the edge of the table with only a foot or so separating them, his stare now pointed. “I’m sure there’s something at the Keep that might entice you.”
    “I highly doubt that, Your Grace.” She barely spared him a glance as she began filling sachets. “The North holds nothing I wish for.” Her tone was clear and firm. “Can you claim that the facilities at the keep are as well-equipped as my workshop here? I can guarantee you it is not. It was kind of the doctor to think of me. However, I am quite comfortable here.” She gestured around the room, vaguely dismissive. 
   “Unfortunately, I have to agree.” He chuckled dryly. “I doubt there are many still rooms that could match this. However, if someone were able to gain the right level of authority at the Keep, who knows what they might be able to carve out for themselves.” 
    “What an interesting thought. Too bad it will remain an academic concern.” It was clear that the more pointed barbs in his words were not lost on her, yet she chose to side-step them completely. She finally stopped her work and looked him directly in the eyes as if to emphasize her point. “Let me speak plainly, Your Grace. I have no intention to leave the Castle at this time, and if I ever do, my destination will not be the North.”
    Edmund felt his own expression harden at her second casual dismissal of his homeland. “I was unaware that my home was so lacking. I had heard that southerners held the North in disdain, but I never expected to have such sentiments expressed directly to me within Verdant Shade Castle itself.”
    Heaving an audible sigh, she turned to face him, holding his gaze steadily. “I did not mean to offend you, Your Grace, and I apologize if I did not choose my words carefully enough. I hold no particularly negative opinions of the North. However, a person does not need to hold negative thoughts about a place to have no wish to live there. I have merely been trying to demonstrate that, despite the kind meddling of Doctor Petiole, I have no wish to leave Verdant Shade Castle at this time.” Her eyes dropped to the bandage on his arm. “Now that you have a clear answer, and seeing as your wound is minor enough that it does not require a follow up prescription, there should be nothing further for us to discuss.”
    If she were attempting to divert his suspicions by acting indifferent to him, she was certainly succeeding. His gaze traveled over her once more, attempting to piece together some of the fragments in his mind to give him a clear picture. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he reached out to brush her shoulder.
   “I would say that you and I have quite a few things to discuss, not least of which would be why such an upright and dedicated apothecary chose to be involved in drugging me.”