Chapter one 

An orange haired girl stared out a frosted window, her breath fogging on the screen, the air, chilling her very bones, but the sight of the street below was worth the cold, having a glimpse at the busy market, crowds of chatter, bartering,  joy and anger. An array of diverse emotions, that left a longing in the girl to join the crowds in their shouts and yells.

She had no money to speak of, the orphanage knew of no wealth and could hardly feed the children they housed, let alone provide money for them to go galavanting to the market. 

The orphanage stood opposite the market at the beginning of the streets and alleyways that made up the lower city. The building itself  an old condemned temple, made of stone and wood that had seen better days, worn and rotten, drafts and leaks running wayward. Many orphans who were brought to the steps of the temple were turned away, there being not enough beds nor food to give them, adding to the growing number of homeless children plaguing and wandering the streets, stealing, begging and killing for a loaf. 

The girl sighed, she was just a baby when she was dropped at the steps of the orphanage, a woman leaving her and her brother and sister, bundled in cloth. It was a story she often had begged the priestesses to retell her when she was a girl, she had thought the woman would return for her and her siblings, but of course the mysterious woman never did. Her sister often scoffed at the idea of someone coming to collect them, telling the girl they were better off without strict or bossy parents, though her main theory through childhood was that their mother was a prostitute, and that they were lucky the woman decided to give them up. But that only added to the girls fantasies of them being the secret love children of some high lord. 

They were triplets, with red and orange hair like burning flames with brilliant glowing golden eyes, beautiful and alluring so much so the priestesses warned them to never wander too close to any of the city's brothels, worried they may catch the eye of unsavoury people, or as the girls sister liked to call them ‘limp dick twats’. Their hair was so pretty that many times during their childhood they had cut their hair clean off their heads to sell for a few copper coins for the temple, hiding a few for themselves, finding many street urchins desperate to have their fine burning locks. The girl had sobbed and cried every time her sister helped her to cut her hair. 

The priestesses who ran the orphanage often said their parents must have been fond of herbs, a joke they often shared with one another with sniggers during evening and morning meals, remembering the day they had come to their door, which then led them to silence.

The girl had grown to despise her name because of the snide jokes of priestesses and worse of the other orphans. Clover was a strange and odd thing to name a small girl, as was Aster for her sister and Basil for their brother, teasing was all they knew growing up in the temple, taunting the three pretending they forgot their names and calling turnip, tomato or cabbage, it had left Clover in a fit of rage, resulting in a few fights she had proudly exclaimed to the head priestess when in trouble she had won. She had always insisted her name was Eloise, she didn't know why, but it was always what she heard whispered in the winds, and crackled in the fire. But none paid heed to her insistence, so the name never stuck.

Clover sighed again there would be little she would miss about the orphanage, the scolding of the priestesses for one, as well as that disapproving look the head priestess would give her whenever she caught her wandering around with an ornate flower crown. She turned to gaze behind herself at her brother and sister, they were as attractive as Clover, taller in height that left Clover irritated whenever someone mentioned such a fact, unlike Clover her brother and sister preferred to have their hair short, Aster always cutting it to her shoulders, preferring the practicality of it. When the three had shaved their hair off the priestesses often couldn’t tell one from the other, nearly identical in every way. 

The two were holding brown sacks that held nothing of value to them, there was hardly anything to pack, they had nothing but a few extra ill fitted clothes and that was it. There was nothing to do but to wait on their straw filled cots for the head priestess to tell them the wagon to take them away from the temple had arrived. They were all eager to leave, and Aster warned if they waited another minute they would make their way themselves.  

All three were shocked when they were told to see the head priestess expecting to be told they had been sold to a farm in need of help for the next few harvests till they paid back the money they lost acquiring them. But instead they were told they were to go to the palace as there were positions available for two scullery maids and a kitchen boy. Clover had wanted to dance at news to be able to be in a place where high lords and ladies went, dreaming of meeting their made up lord father, and being where the king lived. She happily sighed at the thought, knowing the rumours that he was one of the most handsome men in all the kingdom, she had seen firsthand once during a parade, she had shoved and pushed to get to the front, getting in small catfights with girls who were as eager to see the handsome king, but she won, and it was all worth it to see the shining sun of the kingdom, he had even winked at her, well at least she was sure he winked at her. It was a tale she told for months on end, to the misery of everyone at the orphanage. 

It was a relief they would be able to stay in the city, their eighteenth birthday had always been a point of anxiety for the three of them, having no idea what fate lay in store for the siblings, especially since the moment of maturity, the owners of the brothels had made it a routine to come by the temple, always with a bag of coins in hand. The priestesses always declined, but that did not stop them from trying to convince them with bags of gold. Clover shivered at the thought of working in a brothel, she had heard stories none all that pleasant, and Basil and Aster were convinced it was only a matter of time that the gold the brothels promised swayed the priestesses.  

The frost on the window began to spiral into a pattern, sensing the girl's downward mood, she smiled, liking the parade of dancing rabbits the frost formed. Clover began to hum happily, turning away from the window completely, walking over to where her thin shawl laid. She saw her sister Aster's eyes roll at the sound. 

“You know we won’t be able to meet any lords or ladies right?” 

Clover shrugged, “you never know,” 

“Aster’s right we’ll be too busy being worked to the bone, to have time for that,” Basil joined, he looked at clover sternly analysing her joyful mood, his eyes dragging to her fingers down to her palms watching as a faint glow began buzzing from her hands, a panic arose within him, as he frantically looked behind himself to make sure no one else was in the room, he hated that she used no control, that she allowed her emotions to rule her. “You mustn’t get into trouble Clover, this is not some temple run by some old priestesses. It’s the palace and they’ll give you a good beating for a mistake.” 

Clover snorted, the glow gone as if it was never there, “I won’t, why do you always have to tell me that. I don’t want to cause trouble.” 

“Doesn't stop you doing it though,” Asters comments slyly.

Clover frowns just about to give her brother and sister a piece of her mind when the head priestess walks into the room. 

“The waggon from the palace is here, hurry you do not want to keep them waiting,” she spoke in a scratching tired voice, she was an elderly lady well into her eighties, she hunched whenever she stood and walked, and held her cane as if it were a third leg, her clothes were a plain liein white, as was her head covering. 

She looked over at the three siblings squinting, her eyes not being as good as they used to. She had practically raised them, feeling a kindred connection once she laid eyes on their flaming locks and golden eyes. She had seen many children come and go from the orphanage, but the herb siblings as the other priestesses and orphans liked to call them were the strangest she had come across yet, none so ethereal and when strange things began to happen around them, she was not surprised at all, and for that reason she and she alone was the only one that knew their damning secret. 

She stepped closer to them as they gathered their things, “be careful, protect one another,” the three nodded to her words as they began to walk past her, but she sidestepped to block them. Her words were barely above a whisper, yet held such a command that the three trembled in fear, “make sure you are never caught,” she said gravely, her eyes sparked with something primal laying dormant behind her milky blue eyes. Her hands gripped onto clovers and Basil's wrist, her nails piercing into their skin, "you will promise," her voice was dark, her face held a fierce expression, her grip growing tighter by the second, The three nodded, gulping with a need to leave. The elderly lady let go, her face was pale and the winter was affecting her more than it had done in the past. "Be good,” her tone returned to how it once was, “don't put us to shame." Gently she lifted her hand to cup Clover's cheek, smiling warmly with tears in her eyes. She knew this winter would be her last.

Clover felt something awaken in her, as if it were a gasp of air, she gazed at the woman who was like a grandmother to her, forgetting instantly the fear she felt only a moment ago, replacing with a tender love, and with that from her palms she began to form an orb of light that morphed and transformed before the old priestess's eyes into a pink carnation, she handed the flower to the woman and without saying a word, none needing to be said. Clover knew she should not have used her gift so, if anyone saw they would have taken her away to be hung. Magic was a curse on the land, and the inhabitants of  the kingdom knew no magic that could be good, it was a law that all magic users were to be put to death, either by burning at the stake or hung. But the old woman smiled softly, and as if a dye were poured onto the carnation, it turned orange. The priestess hoped the siblings would be as lucky as her in keeping their secret, regretting allowing them to go to the palace. Such a dangerous place for one of their kind, but Basil was smart he would keep his sisters safe.  

Clover left as her sister and brother followed, Silent tears flowed down Clover's cheeks, she sniffed and wiped them away with her sleeves. 

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