Chapter 17 Elara
ELARA
Elara needed air. After staring at her notebook for three hours without writing anything useful, she grabbed her coat and headed into town.
What Elara thought was a flower and herb shop sat on the corner across from the bookstore. Through the window, she could see shelves lined with jars and bottles, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. The sign above the door read Bloom and Blossom in hand-painted letters.
A bell chimed when she entered. The space smelled like rosemary and something sweet she couldn't identify. A woman looked up from behind the counter. Copper-auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her warm green eyes assessed Elara in a single glance.
"You must be the journalist," the woman said. "I'm Freya."
"Elara. Nice to meet you."
"Diana mentioned you might stop by. Said you were fighting off a chill from the storm." Freya moved to one of the shelves, her flowing skirt swishing as she walked. "I have something that'll help."
"I'm actually feeling fine."
"Are you?" Freya pulled down several jars. "Because Diana said you looked tired. Said you've been writing late into the night, wearing yourself thin."
Elara watched her measure dried herbs into a small cloth bag. "Diana talks about me a lot, apparently."
"Small town. We talk about everyone." Freya tied the bag with string and set it on the counter. "Make tea with this. One spoonful per cup. It'll help you sleep better."
"Thank you." Elara pulled out her wallet.
"On the house. Consider it a welcome gift." Freya leaned against the counter. "How are you finding Hollow Oak?"
"Interesting. Complicated."
"That's one way to put it." Freya's smile was knowing. "I heard you've been spending time with Alaric."
"He's been watching me, if that's what you mean."
"Is that all he's been doing?"
Elara looked up from the herb bag. "What else would he be doing?"
"With Alaric, it's hard to say. He's not exactly forthcoming about his feelings." Freya picked up a mortar and pestle, grinding something that smelled like lavender. "But I've known him for years. Never seen him pay this much attention to anyone."
"He's doing his job."
"Maybe. Or maybe there's more to it than that."
The door chimed. Twyla entered, carrying a basket covered with a cloth. "Freya, I brought those pastries you... oh." She stopped when she saw Elara. "Hello, honey. Didn't know you’d be here."
"Just picking up something for sleep."
"Good idea. You've been looking peaked." Twyla set the basket on the counter and turned to Elara with that too-knowing smile. "How are things with our resident enforcer?"
"Things?"
"Don't play coy. Whole town saw him bring you back from his cabin yesterday morning." Twyla's eyes sparkled. "That's quite the development."
"The power was out. He didn't want me to freeze."
"Sure. That's all it was." Twyla exchanged a look with Freya. "Nothing to do with the way he looks at you."
Elara's face warmed. "He doesn't look at me any particular way."
"Oh honey." Twyla patted her arm. "Yes, he does. And you look at him the same way, whether you've admitted it to yourself or not."
"I don't..."
"You do." Freya stopped grinding. "It's written all over you.
The way you tense when someone mentions his name.
The way you keep turning toward the door like you're hoping he'll walk in.
The way you're standing here asking about herbs for sleep when what you really want is to understand why you can't stop thinking about him. "
The words struck too close to home. Elara grabbed the herb bag. "I should go."
"Wait." Freya pulled another small packet from a drawer. "Take this too. It's chamomile and something else. For clarity."
"Clarity about what?"
"Whatever you need clarity about." Freya's expression softened. "Look, I don't know what's happening between you and Alaric. That's between you two. But I know he's a good man. A loyal man. And if he's paying attention to you the way everyone says he is, that means something."
"It means he's watching me because the Council told him to."
"Maybe it started that way." Twyla moved closer. "But that's not why he's still doing it. Trust me on that."
Elara looked between them. "Why does everyone here seem so invested in this?"
"Because we care about him," Freya said simply. "And we've watched him carry the weight of duty for years without letting himself have anything for himself. If you're what he wants, what he needs, then we're going to nudge that along."
"By meddling."
"Call it what you want." Twyla grinned. "But yes, by meddling. It's what I do best."
Elara left the shop, which she now took as an apothecary, with two packets of herbs and a head full of thoughts she didn't want. She walked back to the inn, climbed the stairs to her room, and stared at her notebook again.
But this time, she wasn't thinking about the article. She was thinking about steel gray eyes and the way Alaric had looked at her in his cabin. The way he'd given her his gloves. The way he'd positioned himself between her and whatever he'd found in the woods.
The way he made her feel safe and frustrated and alive all at once.
Freya was right. She couldn't stop thinking about him. And maybe it was time to stop pretending that was just professional curiosity.
Elara grabbed her coat and keys. She needed answers. Needed to understand what was happening between them. Needed to stop dancing around whatever this was and face it directly.
Diana was in the kitchen when Elara came downstairs. "Going somewhere?"
"Alaric's cabin. I need to talk to him."
Diana's eyebrows rose. "Does he know you're coming?"
"No. But I'm going anyway." Elara headed for the door. "If I'm not back in two hours, assume he threw me out and I'm walking home."
Outside, the temperature had dropped again. Snow had started falling, light flakes that drifted lazily. Elara climbed into her car and started the engine.
The drive to his cabin should have been simple. She'd memorized the route yesterday. But the snow picked up quickly, and by the time she was halfway there, visibility had dropped.
The car started making a noise. A grinding sound from somewhere under the hood. Elara pressed the gas pedal. Nothing happened. The engine sputtered.
"No. No, no, no." She tried the gas again. The car rolled forward a few feet, then died completely.
She coasted to the side of what she hoped was the road and killed the ignition. Tried to restart it. The engine turned over but wouldn't catch.
Elara looked around. Trees on all sides. Snow falling harder now. And according to the last landmark she'd seen, Alaric's cabin was about a hundred yards ahead.
She could walk it. Had to walk it. Sitting here wasn't an option.
She grabbed her bag, locked the car, and started forward into the snow. The cold bit through her coat immediately. She pulled her scarf tighter and kept walking.
Fifty yards. Seventy-five. The cabin should be close now.
Through the white curtain of snow, a light appeared. Warm and steady. His cabin.
Elara picked up her pace, half-walking, half-sliding through the deepening powder. By the time she reached his door, her teeth were chattering and her fingers felt numb.
She knocked. Once. Twice.
The door opened.
Alaric stood there, surprise flickering across his face. Then concern. "What are you doing here?"
"My car died. About a hundred yards back." She stamped snow from her boots. "Can I come in?"
He stepped aside without a word. She entered, and the warmth hit her like a wall.
"You drove out here in this weather," he said, closing the door.
"I didn't know it would get this bad."
"Why did you come?"
Elara pulled off her gloves. Her hands were shaking.
From cold or nerves, she wasn't sure. "Because I'm tired of pretending I don't want to understand you.
Tired of everyone in this town acting like there's something happening between us that I'm too stubborn to see.
Tired of dreaming about wolves with your eyes. "
He went very still. "What did you say?"
"I dream about wolves. Silver-gray eyes. Watching me. Protecting me." She looked at him. "And they look exactly like you."