ELSPETH'S EXPERIMENTS
The soft light of early morning filtered through the garden, casting a gentle glow over the rows of herbs and flowers. Elspeth moved among them with the grace of someone who knew every leaf, every petal, by heart. Her hands moved deftly, gathering plants into a small basket. To the servants who passed by, she was simply the quiet princess, gathering ingredients for her latest perfume or a soothing tonic. None of them suspected the true nature of her experiments.
Elspeth had always been fascinated by the garden, but as she grew older, her interests expanded beyond simple perfumes. She began to wonder about the other properties of these plants—their hidden potential, both for healing and for harm. It started innocently enough: a few drops of nightshade mixed with lavender to see if it would alter the scent. But soon, her curiosity led her down a darker path.
In the corner of the garden, hidden from prying eyes, Elspeth maintained a small collection of the more dangerous plants—aconite, belladonna, and hemlock, among others. She had learned early on to be discreet, using her quiet demeanor to avoid raising suspicion. Her tutors often praised her for her intelligence and diligence, never realizing that the books she studied late into the night were not just on botany but also on the art of poisons.
Today, she was working on a new mixture. She carefully measured out a small amount of aconite, adding it to a vial with precision. She held it up to the light, observing the liquid’s color and consistency. To anyone else, it was simply an innocent vial of plant extract, but Elspeth knew better.
A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly tucked the vial into the folds of her dress. One of the castle servants, a young girl who often helped in the garden, approached with a shy smile. "Your Highness, would you like me to gather more herbs for you today?"
Elspeth returned the smile warmly. "That won't be necessary, thank you. I've gathered all I need for now." She gestured to the basket filled with harmless-looking flowers and leaves.
The servant nodded and curtsied before moving away. Elspeth watched her go, her expression unreadable. It was easy to maintain the facade of the innocent princess. People saw what they wanted to see—a girl with a passion for nature, a young lady making perfumes and salves.
Once the servant was out of sight, Elspeth turned back to her work. She extracted a tiny drop of the mixture onto the tip of a needle. She had discovered early on that direct application was the most effective way to test her concoctions. Today, her target was a small piece of raw meat she had brought with her. She pricked it with the needle and waited, observing as the poison slowly seeped into the flesh.
A sense of satisfaction filled her as she watched the meat change color slightly around the puncture. She was getting better at this, learning to harness the plants' more dangerous properties. It was not for mere mischief or cruelty; she knew that knowledge was power. And in a world where power was often wielded against her and her siblings, she needed every advantage she could get.
As she cleaned up her tools, her thoughts turned to the future. There would come a time when this knowledge could prove invaluable. She needed to be prepared, not just to heal but to protect her family in ways others might not anticipate. Her calm demeanor and gentle smile would be her shield, hiding the sharp mind and dangerous skills she was honing behind the scenes.
With a final glance around to ensure everything was in its place, Elspeth picked up her basket and made her way back to the castle. She moved with quiet confidence, already planning her next experiment.
AILSA'S WARRIOR SPIRIT
Meanwhile, in another part of the castle grounds, Ailsa was engaged in her own form of experimentation. Unlike her sister, her interests were not in poisons and plants but in the art of battle. Ailsa had learned some basics about medicinal plants from Elspeth—how to treat wounds and mix simple salves—but her true passion lay in the thrill of the fight. To her, a warrior who couldn't tend to their own wounds was not a complete warrior at all.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She spent most of her days finding excuses to be near the guards' training ground. Her tutors and attendants often tried to steer her toward more ladylike pursuits, but Ailsa had always been a master of evasion. She had learned to play the part of the eager-to-learn young lady, only to slip away at the first opportunity.
Today, she stood just outside the training grounds, watching the knights and squires as they sparred. Her eyes were fixed on one squire in particular, a young man named Eamon—a different Eamon, not her brother—who had been training under the knights for the past year. Ailsa had been observing him for weeks, waiting for the right moment to approach.
Ailsa adjusted her stance, holding a small bunch of wildflowers she had gathered on her way. She walked over to Eamon, her steps light and her expression sweetly curious. "Eamon," she called out, her voice soft yet commanding enough to catch his attention.
The squire turned, slightly startled to see the young princess standing there. "Your Highness," he said, bowing quickly. "Is there something you need?"
Ailsa smiled, tilting her head in a way she knew made her look more innocent. "I was just watching the training. It looks quite intense." She twirled a flower between her fingers, feigning shyness. "I've always wondered... how do you manage to become so skilled? It must take a lot of practice."
Eamon blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Well, yes, Your Highness. It takes years of practice and training. We start with the basics—footwork, handling the sword..."
Ailsa leaned in slightly, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you think... someone like me could ever learn to do that? To fight like a knight?"
The squire hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. It was unheard of for a lady, especially a princess, to train as a knight. "Your Highness, it's... not something that is usually done."
Ailsa pouted slightly, a calculated move to appear endearing. "I know it's not usual," she said, her voice taking on a pleading tone. "But I've always been fascinated by it. And it's not like I want to become a knight. I just... want to understand. How to defend oneself."
Eamon shifted uncomfortably. He had been taught to respect the wishes of the nobility, but this was crossing a line. Still, the way Ailsa looked at him, with those earnest eyes and a hint of vulnerability, made it hard to refuse her outright.
"Well," he began cautiously, "I suppose... I could show you some basic footwork. But you must promise not to tell anyone."
Ailsa's eyes lit up with excitement. "I promise," she said quickly, her face breaking into a triumphant smile. "I won't tell a soul."
Over the next few weeks, Ailsa found ways to sneak into the training grounds during the knights' breaks. Eamon, despite his initial reservations, found himself drawn into her enthusiasm. She was a quick learner, picking up the basics of footwork and sword handling with surprising ease.
"You're a natural," Eamon admitted one day as they sparred in a hidden corner of the grounds. Ailsa was using a wooden training sword, her movements precise and confident.
She grinned, her face flushed with exertion. "I have a good teacher," she replied. "But remember, this is our secret."
Eamon nodded, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Of course, Your Highness. Our secret."
In the evenings, when the training ground was quiet, Ailsa would return to Elspeth with fresh bruises and aching muscles. Together, they would tend to her injuries, using the salves and ointments Elspeth had concocted. It was a strange but comforting ritual, one that bonded them in their pursuit of knowledge and strength in their own unique ways.
Elspeth would scold her gently. "You need to be more careful. If anyone finds out—"
"They won't," Ailsa interrupted, her voice firm. "And besides, a warrior must know how to take care of themselves. Isn't that what you always say?"
Elspeth sighed, shaking her head as she applied a soothing balm to Ailsa's arm. "You're impossible."
Ailsa grinned, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Perhaps. But one day, we'll need to fight for what we believe in. And when that day comes, I want to be ready."
Elspeth nodded slowly, her expression serious. "I know. And so do I."
As the weeks turned into months, both sisters continued to pursue their interests in secret, each carving out a path that defied the expectations placed upon them. Elspeth honed her knowledge of poisons and remedies, her calm exterior masking the dangerous skills she was developing. Ailsa, with the help of Eamon, grew more skilled in combat, her passion for the warrior's life fueling her determination to become more than just a princess bound by courtly rules.
In their own ways, they were preparing for the future—one where they could protect their family and their kingdom, not just with words and influence, but with the knowledge and skills they had acquired in the shadows.