Page 6 of The Iron Hex

The rabbit stomped again.

Shaking her head and waving off Beatrice, Eira pinned the final coil of her hair behind her head, leaving a wash of auburn waves trailing down her back.

After lacing her boots and picking up her bag from where she left it, Eira stepped out of her house, locked her door, and placed the antique house key in her pocket.

The Horn wasn’t a far walk from her home, just a few minutes. Even if she didn’t know the winding alleys like the back of her hand, she’d have been able to follow the sound of revelry to its peak.

The tavern was already bustling, the music from lutes and guitars and banjos seeping through the cracked-open windows that let the crisp late-autumn breeze into what was sure to be an increasingly warm tavern.

She stepped into the tavern, floors perpetually slightly sticky from mead spilling day after day. The sounds of people chatting and singing were almost overwhelmingly loud, but this was what she was here for. Like most small towns, the most interesting thing to do in Cilirien was leave. The second was to go to the Honeyed Horn.

Her favorite bard was adjusting the strings of his lute, preparing to weave his own type of magic into the air as she turned toward the bartender, who was flashing a bright smile at Eira.

“Hey doll,” Alice said. “The usual?”

Eira nodded and smiled as she watched the curvaceous barmaid wipe her deep brown hands on her apron and then head toward Eira’s favorite sweet mead, pouring her a pint and sliding it across the bar to her. Eira cherished a woman who, like her, embraced her curves. Both knew the challenges that came with having a full figure, especially as single women, and together they protected each other against those at the Honeyed Horn who wanted to grab a piece.

One would think the same men making advances would learn after the tenth, or three-hundredth rejection—but Alice and Eira had learned that most men weren’t very smart once a certain amount of mead hit their bloodstream.

She tossed a silver coin to Alice, who plucked it deftly out of the air, and turned to try to find a place to sit, mead in hand. Taking a first sip and wandering around, her eyes locked on a familiar face and her body flushed with warmth as their eyes connected.

Hugo’s hazel eyes sparkled in the tavern’s warm light as he watched her, even from this far away. Goodness, he really was handsome—and the dim light of a tavern had never made someone look worse than they did during the daytime.

Eira shook her head. She did not know this man, and she needed to start acting like he was the stranger he was. Not only was it strange for him to be in a town like Cilirien, but it was also strange for her to have run into him twice in one day.

Be more cautious, girl, she thought.

But then again, new people visited small towns all the time. He could just be a handsome stranger who needed a spell from her. A spell he never came back for and she didn’t know the parameters of.

What a great excuse to talk to the most handsome man in the room, she thought as she smiled deviously to herself.

His eyes never left her as Eira started walking toward his table and the free seat across from him.

Hugo wore a long black cloak over what looked like the tailored jacket he’d been wearing earlier, but it was now unbuttoned at the neck and Eira could see what looked like light leathers underneath. Light armor? So he was no mere merchant passing through town.

She sat, her skirt twirling as she crossed her legs before looking at him and taking a sip of her mead.

“I told you it was a date,” he said, smirking, hands on the table in front of him.

Bold of him to speak before me,she thought.

“As if you expected to run into me at one of Cilirien’smanytaverns,” Eira chuckled, gesturing widely at the only tavern in town with a sweep of her hand.

“I hoped I would.” He took a sip of his own mead.

She locked eyes with him, her skin warming as she felt her cheeks flush. “As did I.” Eira looked down to conceal the blooming blush across her cheeks. “I was hoping to find out what this spell you needed was. I assume you’re heading out of town since you’re not a regular, so I thought I could get working on it sooner rather than later.”

It was a lie, but she did want to know what this mysterious spell was—and what he was doing in Cilirien.

Hugo watched her, his eyebrow cocked as if he was thinking of something to say. “I think I’d like to hear more about your qualifications first.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table to get closer to her. Something in his tone seemed strange to Eira, the questioning presented in a way that left her confused and concerned. He had come intoherstore, should he not have known what her capabilities were from whoever had told him about her?

“I told you earlier today, I’m the best witch in Cilirien,” Eira retorted, mirroring him and leaning in slightly in response.

“Right,” he said. “But what kind of witch are you?”

Her hackles rose slightly, remembering that she was toeing a dangerous line, in addition to the fact that she didn’t know who this man really was. Or anything about him, really. “A potions witch, that’s why I run a potions shop.” Her fingers tapped the table.

“And that’s all?” he said, still leaning to get closer to her.