9 Eira
Eira
Eira slipped out of the room after she was sure Hugo was fully asleep, leaving Pennyroyal to watch over him. Not that the
rabbit could do anything to alert her if he woke to find her gone, but Eira couldn’t stomach losing her in a foreign town
like this. She hadn’t dared to leave until Hugo’s breathing had settled into a deep rhythm . . . with some help. The man needed
help sleeping, it was clear to Eira from the dark circles inlaid under his eyes, so she’d gone ahead and dug through her bag
to find a tiny bit of valerian root to make into a quick diffusing oil that would seep into the air and keep Hugo resting
peacefully. A peaceful and lengthy sleep that would give Eira time to assess her surroundings and get her bearings without
him. And just maybe he’d be less miserable when he woke up, but something told Eira he would just be angry that she defied
him.
She stepped out of the inn and into the street, which was starting to fill with the townsfolk as they went about their morning
routines. A strange feeling of familiarity washed over her, as if she had been here before—but no, that couldn’t be the case.
All small towns looked like this one, just as Cilirien looked the same.
The smell of fresh bread dictated her direction through the town center and down a few cobbled side alleyways. She felt comforted knowing the roads all led their winding paths back to the town center eventually; she wasn’t going to get lost here.
Moments later, she turned and noticed an elderly woman stepping out of a storefront holding a baguette. A baguette so fresh
from the oven it was letting off steam in the cold air. Eira stepped into the bakery and took a deep breath full of delicious
scents, looking at the offerings on the walls behind the young woman who stood behind a counter, her hair and clothing coated
in a thin layer of flour.
“Hi there,” the woman said to Eira before tilting her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
Eira looked away from the pastries, suddenly feeling exposed. Did she need to panic? Eira often noticed unfamiliar faces when
they came into the Potions Patisserie, but . . . it made her feel uneasy. Could this person tell she was on day two of wearing
this outfit? Or that her hair probably needed a wash instead of being pulled into a bun? Had the Iron Retinue beaten them
here or spread the word somehow and told everyone what they looked like?
“I’m passing through town,” Eira answered, smiling brightly through her anxiety. “I smelled the baked goods from the town
center and had to find your shop.”
“Oh!” the woman said, smiling in turn. “We don’t often get visitors here once the cold settles in. We’re much more popular
in the summer season.”
Eira racked her brain, trying to remember any of the neighboring towns that people in Cilirien flocked to during Astra’s blissfully warm summers.
She was drawing a blank. Her memory seemed to slip away from her too often for her own comfort—maybe she needed to consult a doctor again to see if her memory failure continued to afflict her, long after the accident three years ago.
Not that she remembered the incident . . . but that didn’t matter.
“What can I get for you?” the woman said, grabbing a paper bag and preparing to take Eira’s order.
“I think I’ll have one of the chocolate danishes, as well as one of the cheddar-and-chive scones,” Eira responded, rifling
through her bag for her change purse. She located it, and relief washed over her when she discovered it was relatively full.
Sometimes she left her change at the Potions Patisserie. It didn’t matter to her where her coin was . . . most of the time.
Thankfully, Eira had packed it last night, which was good. If she needed to get away from Hugo, this coin could be her transport
back to Cilirien.
Did Eira want to get away from Hugo? He’d made it fairly clear that the Iron Retinue soldiers who had chased them down had seen
her, and she’d heard them call her by her title of potions witch . . . If she went back to Cilirien, would she be in more
danger than just staying with the strange, infuriating man? He had saved her life, which didn’t mean nothing.
She felt a twinge of hurt at the thought of the Potions Patisserie. Eira had spent so much time in the last three years outfitting
the shop, decorating it, and making it her own. Despite Cilirien being the only home she remembered, she had always felt like
an outsider—but eventually the townspeople were welcoming of her shop. The war against magic had been so harmful to Eira’s
place in the world after the Iron Empire rose, and she worried that this incident would alienate her even more from them.
But she’d made it work, and her little shop was her little shop, and now she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to go back there.
The woman handed Eira her baked goods and Eira left the quaint bakery, lost in thoughts of Cilirien and what she might have
left behind forever.
She wandered up the cobblestone street, sticking her hand into the paper bag and fishing out the chocolate pastry.
The first bite felt like heaven. It was buttery and flaky, and the chocolate was rich without being bitter.
She moaned audibly before putting her hand to her mouth and walking straight into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, her mouth still full as she looked up at the person she’d bumped into.
Eira’s heart fell to the ground. Standing before her was a member of the Iron Retinue. Not like the ones she’d seen last night,
but more like the ones that patrolled as the town guard in Cilirien. Still, a shot of fear rippled through her at the sight
of the Iron Empire sigil on his chest.
“Madam,” the guard said, stopping his patrol to look at her.
She needed to stay calm—she needed to act normal. But what was even normal for her? Not overthinking how she moved was probably
normal. Eira placed the pastry back into the brown bag and smiled brightly at the guard. Kindness was disarming. It was not
suspicious; it was what any normal person would do. “My apologies for running into you,” she said, bowing her head slightly.
The guard looked Eira, tilting his head appraisingly as he looked her up and down.
She felt like she was being undressed by his eyes and suppressed a shudder. Good to know men were lecherous everywhere, not
just in Cilirien.
“Not a problem, Miss . . .” he said, nodding his head and waiting for her to answer with her name.
Eira broke out into a sweat, hoping that her cheeks being flushed would seem like it was coming from the cold air and not the fact that she was internally panicking about whether or not she should give a fake name.
She could have given him her mother’s name, or an aunt’s, but of course she didn’t remember the names of anyone she had ever known.
The doctor had told her once that under stress her memories might come back to her, but it had never worked before.
Then, out of the corner of her eye she spotted a maple tree, one single crimson leaf still clinging to it for dear life.
“I’m Maple,” Eira said, putting on her best workplace smile. “I must go attend to my husband, but thank you for your forgiveness
for so carelessly bumping into you.”
Eira curtsied and tried to step past the guard, but he put his hand out to stop her. No, no, no.
“I haven’t seen you around Riverford before, Maple,” he said.
“I’m passing through town,” Eira said, still smiling, the corners of her mouth hurting from the strain. Riverford? So they’d
ridden westward, toward the lake.
“Huh,” the guard said. “And you said you needed to tend to your husband? Is he hurt?”
Was the guard asking about her husband because he was interested, or was he asking about her husband because he suspected
something . . . or was he asking because if Hugo was injured he wanted to get help? This was why Eira stayed home.
“Oh no,” Eira answered. “He is just still sleeping.”
The two locked eyes, Eira trying to figure out if the soldier had bought her lie. It wasn’t a lie; it was just . . . a stretching
of the truth. Hugo was sleeping. He just wasn’t her husband.
“You’re too beautiful of a woman to have tied yourself to a man who can’t retrieve your baked goods for you in the morning.”
Oh, he was flirting. Your stupid hips, Eira thought. They’re always getting you into trouble.
“Thank you for your kind words, sir.” Eira’s smile stayed plastered on her face as she stepped away. “I’ll be sure to pass
them along to my husband so he knows what not to do in the future.”
How was she going to get out of this situation without the guard following her back into her room in the inn? She was going
to need to wander, but then, wouldn’t the guard wonder why she was wandering?
Maybe Hugo had been on to something with the idea of her not leaving the room. But then again, she’d been hungry, and she also didn’t want to be in his presence. His stupid, handsome face alone made her want to scream in frustration right now.
“If I see your husband at the tavern tonight, I will give him a talking-to about how to treat a beautiful woman like you,”
the guard called as Eira started walking away.
Shit.
“I’m sure he would enjoy that!” she answered cheerily, heading up the cobblestone path and back in the direction of the town
center.
He wouldn’t. Hugo would hate that.
A few moments later she glanced back, seeing the guard step into the same bakery she’d just left. She exhaled a deep sigh
in relief that she wouldn’t have to try to hide from him. Now she could safely get back to the tavern without him knowing
where she was staying. Just in case, though, she would try to find somewhere else to walk or shop, hoping desperately that
there was some sort of potions witch in town that could sell her some herbs so Eira could prepare some of her more dangerous
potions. Just in case.