17 Eira
Eira
Eira woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and cold toes. She hated when her toes were cold.
The air outside of the meager pile of blankets she’d slept in was frigid, the ground dewy and almost frosted. Pennyroyal was
snuggled up against her back and Eira looked over to the embers of the fire as Hugo leaned against a nearby tree, gently snoring,
his cloak draped over him in a makeshift blanket.
Eira had to grudgingly give it to him; he hadn’t even asked to share the blankets with her. That was chivalry she wasn’t used
to. She’d kissed her fair share of frogs in Cilirien, and all of them had asked to share her bed at least once.
Eira barely shifted to sit up, but it was enough for Hugo’s eyes to snap open.
“I’m glad you got some sleep,” Eira said, smirking. His hair was slightly mussed, and his disheveled look made Eira involuntarily
muse about other ways hair could get disheveled.
“I wasn’t asleep,” Hugo answered, standing quickly and tossing his thick woolen cloak over his back.
“Mmm,” Eira said, outright smiling and then groaning as she stood, her muscles stiff from a night spent on the cold ground. “Can we avoid sleeping on the ground for the rest of this journey?”
“No guarantees, my lady,” he said, starting to fold up the blankets as Eira tried to stretch out her sore muscles.
“You have to stop with the ‘my lady’ stuff, okay?” Eira answered.
“I’ll call you ‘my lady’ when you’re acting like a pompous member of the elite Astran nobility,” Hugo answered, not looking
up from folding and then rolling the blankets.
Eira found herself entranced by the methodical way Hugo wrapped the bedroll and stuffed it back into its pack. It was clear
to her that he’d been doing this for a while and had had to pack up more than once under pressure.
“I am not acting like a pompous member of nobility,” Eira said, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out.
Hugo looked up, then trailed his eyes down her body before looking back to her eyes.
Eira flushed, suddenly feeling naked and warm despite being fully dressed with still-cold toes.
“I’ve only known nobility to complain about sleeping in the forest,” he finally said, the pause extended just a little bit
too long.
“Then you don’t know many people,” Eira shot back, snappier than she needed to as she tried to recover from how ravenous Hugo
had looked as he’d raked his eyes up and down her body.
They silently packed up the rest of the makeshift campsite, knowing that they needed to get moving to the next town so they
could get something to eat and hopefully find somewhere safe to stay for a day or two.
“I’ll get on Arthur and help you up,” Eira said as Hugo strapped the bedroll to Arthur’s saddle.
“I’m good,” Hugo said, hopping onto the horse like it was nothing—as if he hadn’t been extremely injured just last night.
“Your shoulder! Be careful,” Eira said before realizing that Hugo had been using his arm without her noticing the whole time they’d been packing up the campsite.
“I’m fine,” he repeated and held his good arm out to Eira to help her up onto the horse’s back.
After opening her bag and letting Pennyroyal hop in, she took Hugo’s hand and climbed onto Arthur, Hugo’s fingers lingering
just a little bit longer than they needed to on Eira’s hand as she settled behind him. They rode in an awkward silence for
nearly half an hour before they both tried to speak at once.
“So your—” Eira said.
“When did you get the rab—” Hugo questioned.
“Sorry,” Eira laughed.
“You go,” Hugo said, a smile in his words.
“No, no,” Eira said. “You want to know about Pennyroyal?”
“Yeah,” Hugo answered. “I’ve met people who love their dogs, but I’ve never met anyone quite so attached to their rabbit that
they would have risked being arrested by the Iron Retinue to get it.”
“Pennyroyal is my closest confidante. I couldn’t leave her in Cilirien,” Eira said, smiling and pushing down her burning curiosity
about how Hugo had healed so quickly. Her salve was good, and her spell work exceptional, but it wasn’t that good.
Wait—he was asking about Pennyroyal. Did that mean . . .?
“Did I not have Pennyroyal when I left the capital?” Eira questioned, a puzzle piece unlocking for her. It didn’t provide
any real answers, but it helped her paint a picture of the blank timeline in her mind.
“No,” Hugo answered, steering them out of the forest and onto a dirt road. “You didn’t have any pets, as far as I knew.”
“So I picked up Pennyroyal in Cilirien,” Eira said, opening her bag with one hand. “Is that right, Penny?”
The rabbit clicked her teeth. Eira wasn’t sure if that was a confirmation, or frustration at the topic. Either way, she hadn’t been lying—the rabbit knew everything about what Eira had done in the past few years. Whether or not the rabbit understood was another question entirely.
They rode quietly, Arthur’s hooves on the compacted dirt the loudest sound around them as Hugo took them wherever he had planned.
“I have a question.” Eira finally broke the silence, putting her cheek on Hugo’s back and hearing his heartbeat through his
clothing. She didn’t know the man, not really, but the motion felt right.
“Hopefully I have an answer for you,” Hugo responded, not looking away from the road ahead, though he stiffened at her touch.
“What . . . did I like to wear?” Eira tentatively asked.
Hugo barked out a laugh, loud and from deep in his chest. Eira decided she liked the sound of it. “That’s your first question
about when you lived in Astrad?”
“I think fashion is a very important indicator of someone’s personality!” Eira huffed, lifting her face up from his back to
glare at him indignantly.
“You thought that then too,” Hugo got out between laughs. “You were easily the best dressed out of all of the nobility, and
I personally think you had a better personal style than the princess.”
“How did I style my hair?”
“Differently than you do now,” he said, turning the horse to the right and in the direction of a town in the distance. “You
wear your hair down now, which you only did when at home. When you were out in the palace you always had your hair in an intricate
updo. Intricate updos, and ruffled gowns in rich jewel tones.”
“Oh,” Eira answered, trying to picture the gowns she’d seen the few wealthy ladies in Cilirien wearing.
“I like what you wear now too,” he said. “You still stand out, even in simpler clothing.”
“Hopefully we can find me something else to wear. I’m fairly certain these clothes have your blood on them,” Eira teased, resting her chin on Hugo’s good shoulder.
“We’re almost to the town we’ll stay at tonight, Fallstead. We can find you something there,” Hugo answered, lapsing into
silence again as they approached the town.
Eira could feel the tension in Hugo’s body build as they got closer. If the Iron Retinue recognized either of them they’d
be in trouble. They needed these villages as stops to wherever they were going . . . which they also needed to figure out.
The past few days had left barely any time to breathe, never mind ponder the location of the heir to Astra’s throne.
Two Iron Retinue soldiers stood outside of the meager stone gates to the town, which was quite a bit larger than the previous
town had been, just based on what Eira could already see. Arthur approached and Eira held her breath, waiting for the soldiers
to stop them to ask questions they didn’t have answers for. Or worse, the soldiers could recognize them.
The soldier on the left looked at Eira, only his eyes visible through the full plate armor he wore. She felt the tension reach
its peak the moment when she thought the soldier was going to halt them. Then the tension eased as they trotted through the
gate to the city without being stopped. Eira heard Hugo breathe a sigh of relief as he headed into the town square to find
a place to stable Arthur.
“We’ll find a room and then get you some fresh clothing,” Hugo said curtly as he hopped off the horse and led him to the stables
behind the local tavern.
Before Eira knew it, she was on the streets of a strange town with a particularly quiet and gruff Hugo, who was somehow carrying
several bags from the stores where she had found clothes. Eira wasn’t sure how much coin Hugo had, but he hadn’t complained
as she purchased the items she wanted, which had been nice. He had, however, insisted on her getting a pair of riding pants,
despite Eira’s complaints about how it was improper.
“It’s also improper to be on the run from the Iron Retinue, but here we are,” he had responded. Which, for the record, was rude.
Eira handed him one of the paper bags she had just left a nearby bakery with, leaving herself with one.
“I got you something to eat.” Eira smiled brightly.
“I’m not hungry,” he grumbled, grabbing the bag.
“Just eat,” she demanded. “We haven’t eaten anything substantial since yesterday, and you lost a lot of blood.”
She watched him crack open the bag and tilt his head, face lit by the golden late-afternoon sun in a way that made her breath
catch. She wondered for a moment if anything had happened between them when he was guarding her family, or if she’d wanted anything to happen. If not, she reasoned, Viscountess Eira had terrible taste in men.
“Pistachio?” he questioned, a note of wonder in his voice.
“Yes, it’s not too sweet—and since you’ve been in a foul mood since we got here, I didn’t want to overwhelm your senses,”
Eira jabbed at him gently.
“Pistachio is my favorite,” he marveled, reaching into the bag and pulling out the nut-encrusted pastry.
“Oh,” Eira answered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I didn’t know that.”
“You did, actually,” he said, taking a bite, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he did.
“Right,” Eira said. It didn’t take much for Eira to feel strange, and she was learning that any mention of who she allegedly
was made her uncomfortable. It was new, yes, but every time something small like this happened, it made her believe Hugo’s
story more and more. It couldn’t all be coincidence. Part of her, and she wasn’t sure how big that part of her was, didn’t
want it to be true. The other part . . . well, it wondered if it was the missing piece that had been looming over her for
the past few years in Cilirien. Eira hadn’t thought about what to get him at the bakery; she’d just . . . picked something
without thinking.
If this was how memory magic worked, she could suddenly understand why it had been outlawed. This experience was discombobulating and distressing, like she had an itch she couldn’t quite reach to scratch.
They headed back to the inn and Eira quickly hopped over to the bar, trying to lift her spirits with some sort of sweet drink
to enjoy in their room. “I’m just going to grab a quick drink for upstairs!” she said to Hugo as she turned to the barmaid.
“Oh!” the barmaid said. “Darlin’, you’re back.”
“Pardon?” Eira said, watching Hugo’s head incline as he slowly headed over to her, guard dog energy emanating from every pore.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t remember a little old barmaid like me,” the woman chuckled.
“I am so, so sorry, madam, but I think you have the wrong woman,” Eira replied. “I just want to grab whatever juice is fresh
for our room.”
“I most definitely do not. I’d remember you from anywhere. You and that rabbit! Where is it?”
Eira started sweating . . . Had she been here before?
“My wife has had a busy few years, haven’t you, darling?” Hugo chimed in, looping an arm around her waist.
“Yes, I have,” Eira answered mechanically, emptiness in her mind where the memory of this woman should be.
“Happens to the best of us,” the barmaid said as she poured a jug of a translucent yellow juice. “I’ve got apple today.”
“How long was I here?” Eira asked, unable to stop herself.
“You and that friend of yours and that rabbit were here for a few weeks,” she said, handing over the jug. “Your friend kept
to herself mostly, so quiet, but you were so much fun. Made the shifts go by nice and easy.”
My friend? Eira looked to Hugo, who locked eyes with her.
“What did this friend look like?” Eira asked carefully.
“Dark hair, olive skin—oh, did y’all have a falling-out or something? Or did something happen to her? Did she hit you on the head and that’s why you forgot about lil’ ol’ Jess?”
Eira looked at Hugo, panic rising in her. Who was this woman talking about? Was it who she thought it could be?
“Ah, that friend. We’ve been looking for her for a while. Ran off with a man that I don’t trust,” Hugo said, lying through his teeth.
“That’s too bad, you two seemed so close,” Jess said.
“They were,” Hugo answered, releasing Eira and taking a step toward the stairs.
“Okay,” Eira said, voice shaking. “Thank you for the juice . . . I’m sorry about this. We’ll come down later for some food.”
“Don’t even worry about it, Crystal!” Jess answered cheerfully.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Hugo grabbed the arm Eira was holding the pitcher with.
“This is the best lead we’ve gotten so far,” he said excitedly. “That sounds exactly like the princess, Eira. You must have
been here with her.”
“Right, yeah,” Eira said, nodding her head repeatedly, feeling hollow. This was all too much. She couldn’t do this. How was
she supposed to be able to pretend like she had any idea who she was when people from years ago remembered her, but she had
no idea who she was to them? Why had she given the name Crystal? Why had her and the princess parted ways after this?
She realized she’d never even asked Hugo what the princess’s name was, and now she had a random barmaid telling her that she’d
been here with that very same princess three years ago.
“Hugo, what was the princess’s name?” she asked quietly.
Hugo stepped back and tilted his head. “I keep forgetting you don’t remember any of it . . . It’s Evangeline, but why?”
The name didn’t stir a single thing within Eira. “I don’t even know her name, but I was apparently here with her long enough
that Jess the barmaid in Fallstead remembers both of us.”
“This is good,” Hugo said, placing a hand on Eira’s shoulder. “This is a lead.”
“Hugo, how is it good if I can’t even remember the people that I’ve come across? We just have to hope they remember me and
then, what, say something?”
“We’re just going to have to do what we can.” Hugo’s hands were gentle on Eira’s arms as he tried to comfort her, despite
his excitement. “Jess clearly remembered you and felt compelled to say something . . . There have to be others who are the
same.”
“So, what, we scour the country hoping we find the path that took me to Cilirien and . . . Evangeline, to wherever she went?
All in hopes of someone remembering us? I just . . . I don’t think it’s going to work.” Eira shook her head.
Hugo didn’t answer, just watched Eira.
“I can’t do this,” Eira said, turning and walking to the room. She needed a bath—she needed to clear her head and let the
warm water soothe her.