Today's Reading

"My lady, I was simply lost in thought. I have no reason to be angry with you," Rhona responded, clasping her hands behind her back as she started sweating. Lady Heathecote's beauty always made Rhona a little bit nervous.

Lady Maeve was everything that Rhona had wished to be as a child—petite with soft, luscious curves and a softer jawline. Rhona was all harsh lines and lithe muscle, and half of her peers had thought her a man as they all matured together.

"I am glad to hear it, Sir Rhona. I will see you tomorrow when I promenade next," she said, nodding her head and popping open her parasol to continue her walk. "Oh," Lady Maeve said, turning to look at Rhona with a glimmer in her eye. "And keep a close watch on Lord Wilmer today."

Rhona watched Lady Maeve walk away until she could no longer see her for the garden's rosebushes, wondering why the lady was the only member of the nobility who made her nervous.


3
Eira

Eira looked up at the tall, handsome man standing in her open door.

She felt Pennyroyal hop under the desk where she liked to sleep, which immediately set the hairs on Eira's neck to standing—Penny usually loved attention from clients.

"Hi there!" Eira said cheerily, not letting her rabbit getting a bit spooked deter her from giving a good customer experience.

"Hello," he said, his voice deep and gruff.

"Welcome to the Potions Patisserie."

He was tall; had she noticed that already? With rich brown hair, a scruffy beard, and golden tanned skin. A pink scar climbed up his chin, a stark contrast to his natural tawny undertone.

"Can I help you with anything?" Eira managed to stumble out a few words, desperately trying not to let her mouth fall open at how attractive she found this man. She really needed to be courted. Thirty years old and finding a stranger who came into her store to be this jaw-droppingly handsome? She was sure that she didn't need to start shopping for a husband among her customers—surely her social life, such as it was in a small town like Cilirien, could result in a fruitful partnership.

The man did a quick turn around the store, large hands behind his back, before stepping up to the counter and silently perusing her wares.

Eira watched, taking in the man's wavy hair and the well-tailored jacket he wore, and then smelled the sandwich that she'd started to eat, causing her stomach to grumble—loudly.

She furrowed her brow, desperately hoping the man hadn't heard the grumble from where he stood, but it was a pointless dream to think that he hadn't. What a great first impression.

"Confused about something?" the man said, finally speaking, a smirk creasing the serious set of his mouth ever so slightly.

Eira snapped out of her stomach-grumbling spiral to see the man standing directly in front of her, no longer perusing her potions and poultices, but instead watching.

"Not at all," Eira exclaimed, jumping back slightly at the sudden closeness.

He raised a dark eyebrow and Eira watched his hazel eyes narrow slightly. "I've heard you're the go-to witch around these parts," he said.

He wasn't wrong.

"Whoever told you that must be one of my lovely customers," Eira said, reaching her hand over the table to shake his.

"I'm Eira Eckhart, potions witch."

He met her hand with his and shook, almost too firmly. A shock ran through Eira as their skin met, a feeling of comfort briefly washing over her before she realized she was holding on to this handshake for too long. Eira pulled her hand away, a blush creeping onto her cheeks out of sheer embarrassment.

Had she truly gone so long without touch that holding a man's hand had her flustered?

"It's lovely to meet you, Eira," he said, and she detected an odd tone in his voice that she couldn't quite place. "I'm Hugo Venton."

"Are you in need of the go-to witch in Cilirien?" she asked, brow raised.

"Believe it or not, I am." He smirked as his hazel eyes looked her up and down.

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