As she fitted the key into its lock, she abruptly smiled so wide that her cheeks pulled too tight. Finish Opulence Mansion, and she could afford a lovely little spot.Gracious, what a stroke of good fortune that fancy bit of post has turned out to be.
Alora stepped into her home, unlacing her boots and hanging her satchel on the rack. She'd freshen up quick as could be and hurry right back out.
“Mrs. Flops,” she called, entering the kitchen to pull apart some greens. “Don’t tantrum. I’d told you last night my day would be hectic. Come have a bite of lunch.”
Settling the plate onto the floor, Alora hurried to the washroom to reset her hair. Between the walk and the wind, she looked positively tousled, and not in a roguishly handsome sort of way. Her fingers worked quickly with their twists and pins. Placing her hands upon her waist, she turned this way and that, satisfied once more. Only—
There. She dabbed on a lipstick—a pink rose—and thought of a certain Potions and Peculiarities ‘proprietor’ all the while.
“Good girl, Mrs. Flops. See you for dinner.” With a soft scratch between the rabbit’s long white ears, Alora replaced her boots and was gone.
She didn’t need any notepad or samples for this appointment as the project was nearly complete. It was only a matter of delivery now. Just two more stops and she’d be on her way. Alora walked toward the edge of town singing quietly to herself, and then louder as the buildings grew sparse. She sang until she saw green.
She’d arrived at the stable.
“Miss Merryweather, hello.”
“Hello today, Miss Pennigrim. Come to fetch Mister George?”
Alora stepped within the stable door where the scents of animal, sweet hay, and musty straw overcame her. “I am. He has an important job retrieving flowers today.”
“One I’m sure he’ll enjoy.” The stable master flung a sack of grain over her shoulder with ease, motioning for Alora to follow. “I’ve just let him out to pasture with the other donkeys but come have a shout.”
Alora followed the stable master through the building, passing stalls of horses, sheep, and mules until she came to the gate. Ms. Merryweather flung down the grain and retrieved a rope, then she looked to Alora expectantly.
Alora cleared her throat, self-conscious over the two stable hands watching her in not-so-subtle ways from the corners of their eyes as they went about their chores.
She grimaced. “GEORGE!”
Thankfully, the kind creature didn’t make her call him twice. Lumbering through the pasture, George cantered, large ears perked and eyes bright. Alora knew she possessed a weakness for large-eared creatures; she’d accepted it. “Hello, George,” shesaid, when he pressed his nose to the gate and snorted. “Care to visit the nursery?”
Ms. Merryweather didn’t wait for his answer but flung the rope about him and swung in the gate. “Come along, Mister George. Let’s get you hitched.”
Alora spared one more look for the stable hands as she followed, and though one ducked away at her glance, the other smiled and winked.
The cheek!
Why, she must wear lipstick more often.
***
Being as their route was so familiar, the donkey kept a comfortable pace. The pair of them had trekked this way many times. The cobblestones were larger on this road, an outlying street that wrapped the entirety of Enver. It was intersected plenty, by streets that would take her farther in, but only by three which would take her farther out. A road for the north, into the Indigo mountains, the south, down to the bustling and much-too-large capital, and the east. She shuddered.Eirian. Besides the lane to Opulence, there was obviously no great road to the west. Stray only a little farther that way, and one would find themselves hip-deep in glorious waves.
Enver was an enigma of a town. A person could hear tales of it their whole lives and still be shocked to silent wonder upon their arrival. She’d certainly been.
The town was situated on a far-west edge, and while most roads to other places were dirt, to Enver, in all directions, they were paved. Not little stones which released bursts of glittering dust when stepped upon like Opulence Mansion’s lane, but huge silver slabs that clipped smartly beneath hooves and boots. Areminder, she assumed, to all who journeyed nearer. That they headed toward somethingother,something special.
She didn’t prefer looking east. If she could have done otherwise, she would have. But the nursery was situated on that side of Enver, away from the towering white trees of Renwick Forest and on a slope that soon gave way to rolling hills and a long, winding road. A road that had brought her here not so long ago.
It was better to ignore those hills when she could help it. When she thought of them, she would remember how terrible enchantment could be. And then she would remember how terribleshecould be.
“Oh George, theseblooms!How will I ever choose?”
They’d arrived at the nursery, and all was made worth it. Alora weaved through the still-wet rows, touching silken petals and sniffing deeply. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d let you smell these Zanigolds, but sadly I do know you and you’d only eat them.”
A pot had tipped sideways in the storm. She leaned over the old wooden table to right it, scooping dirt by the handfuls and patting it down. The yellow flower was saved, but her hands were now stuck with mud. She stared at them in a perplexed state a moment before kneeling and wiping them along the damp ground.
A pair of boots stepped not far from her fingers. It caught her off guard; not a minute ago, she’d been sure she was alone. Alora flung her hands back and her eyes up.
