Eleonora knew of Talia's bakery only from her cousin's stories of home. It was a two storied building, with the lower floor completely dedicated to the bakery and its storage, while the upper floor was their residential quarters. The place was three streets to the north of the market district, sandwiched between a dairy and a butcher's shop. On several occasions, Talia had narrated stories of sneaking out of her house with her brothers to run to the market district for sweets and condiments. An easy five minute walk, she had called it.
It took Eleonora a whole hour to find it. Which was an accomplishment, truly, considering the number of big and small turns that appeared at every few steps, leading to seemingly endless paths in every direction.
Night had begun to settle by the time she reached the place. The sky was painted in faded shades of the setting sun. Some other time — hell, only a few hours before — Eleonora would have marveled at the beautiful colors in the sky, the tall buildings in the foreground, and the mountains in the back adding to the beauty of the sunset. However, at present, the only thing she could marvel about was her own head still intact to her body.
Anger and self preservation had driven her actions. But Eleonora didn't regret it; if given a chance again, she would do exactly what she had done earlier. She had no empathy for the duke, but she had no right to take his life either.
That said, she knew he had died not much later. There were rumours about the incident everywhere; everyone seemed to be talking about it. She had heard several variations of them on her way here. But it was a consolation to not be aware of whether it was the prince that had decided it for him, or it was the duke himself who had chosen death over his own drugs.
The duchess was a mystery, as much to herself as to all the other people speculating over her involvement. Eleonora had been too preoccupied by her own anger, her own fear, to notice where she had been in that moment. But one thing was for certain: she wasn't capable of killing the duke.
Emotionally? Maybe.
But physically? It was nearly impossible.
The duke wasn't stabbed. There were no physical marks on his body. She was sure he hadn't eaten or drunk anything suspicious either. Moreover, the lack of foaming at the mouth ruled out most poisons. But he had been bleeding — profusely at that. As if something had ruptured inside him, or tore its way out. His body had been ice cold to the touch, despite his heart thundering within his chest. Eleonora didn't know what could have caused something like that to happen. She wondered if she could have healed him if she had stayed longer. But something had broken within him, and no matter how much she tried to not let her thoughts wander, she failed to shush her — usually curious, but extremely practical — mind from thinking of the possibilities that transcended human capabilities.
Eleonora shook her head, dispelling the rogue ideas trying to take hold, and looked up at the well lit balcony of Talia's bakery. Unlike her village where the streets went dark and silent as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, Ilyndor was still bustling with pleasant voices and strolling habitants. She could hear people chattering, could hear carts rolling, could smell the varieties of aromas of home cooked food. Eleonora had been missing her family ever since she bid them farewell a few days back, but standing in the middle of the street and watching all these houses filled with laughter and talking, made that feeling hit her with a nauseating impact.
She missed them. A lot. But she was glad they were away from her.
Challenging royalty was the highest form of treason. And her sins had surpassed that limit a long time back. She had heard of entire clans being crushed to dust for the crimes of one. She couldn't even bring herself to image what would happen if Prince Callahan had taken her intention of self-preservation as an act of challenging him. But if he had, she was willing to bear the weight herself, without pushing her loved ones in danger.
And that was why she had come to visit Talia, but had no intention to meet her.
Eleonora looked down at the little piece of parchment in her hand. The ink on it had dried long before. The text was short, the handwriting neat, the words simple enough to not raise suspicion. Yet she read it again, just for the pure uselessness of it.
Do not wait for me. I shall be back home when you read this. Collect your 2 percent the next time you visit me.
-Eli.
She fixed the parchment in the creak of the closed bakery's door and hoped Talia, or any of her family members, would not see it until the next day. The news of Duke Winslow's death was spreading fast, it would reach them sooner or later. Eleonora only wished that when it did, they would think she was back in the safety of her home and not come looking for her.
With that taken care of, Eleonora took a deep breath and started to head towards her next destination. It was not going to be home, unfortunately.
That decision was rooted more in logic than her safety concerns. The duke's death had caused a significant ripple in the capital. The royal guards had ceased all transportation coming in and out of the city. Even as she walked, she could see many of them marching around for vigilance. She could forget about finding a cart back to the village.
Eleonora had contemplated walking all the way back, but the thought itself was exhausting. Moreover, if thirst and hunger didn't take her life during her long, long journey, the bandits might do it for her. Additionally, if she were to die anyway, she wanted to do it for a purpose.
So Eleonora strolled through the streets of Ilyndor, aimlessly for hours, until she came across a cheap looking tavern at the end of a dark alley. It didn't look creepy or abandoned, just deserted. Usually, she would avoid places like these, but considering her predicament, it was safer to be in an unknown corner of the city.
Eleonora had been worried that an arrow was going to pierce her heart as soon as she walked out of the Velvet Pearl, and that fear might have eased with the elapsed hours in between but it didn't fade away altogether. If Prince Callahan truly willed, the arrow might still find her anywhere in Valon, but a more discreet lodging would give her an illusion of safety.
'I want to rent a room for a few days,' Eleonora said to the innkeeper. She was an old lady with a mouth twisted from years of habitual sneering.
The woman looked Eleonora up and down, sizing her with her eyes. 'We're full.' Her tone was curt, her voice was hoarse from years of smoking.
Eleonora scrunched her face, perplexed. 'It's empty,' she threw her hands to her right at the deserted tavern — not one person in sight. Then, reached into her pouch and pulled out a few coins, 'And I'll pay.'
'Don't think you're saving me by renting a room. I can get by without your pity coins,' she huffed, bringing the smoking pipe to her mouth, then blowing out the smoke with a displeased grunt.
Eleonora was too familiar with being treated like a lesser human to take offence, and after the day's incident, she hardly had any fight left in her. With a disappointed sigh, she was about to leave in search of a different stay when the curtains behind the tavern keeper parted and a woman rushed out.
'Mama! How many times do I need to tell you not to treat customers like that? It's bad for business.' She turned to Eleonora. 'Please forgive my mother for her rudeness. The place isn't doing well these days and her age makes her grumpy. I'll show you to your room.'
The old woman grimaced at her daughter but didn't say anything. Eleonora followed the younger woman up a creaking staircase. Though the tavern was three stories high, it was narrow and cramped on the inside. It looked aesthetically old, but was well maintained and spotless clean.
'There aren't many people that visit or stay in this part of the town so we don't get many customers,' the woman said, leading Eleonora through a narrow passage with doors shut on empty rooms on either side. 'We didn't get any the previous month, and the man who came in yesterday wasn't the most polite of them. It did not sit well with mama, but I insisted on giving him a room anyway. We have to make a living somehow, but she's been in a foul mood since. I hope you don't take her words to heart.'
Eleonora nodded. She has had a lifetime of practice in not taking words to heart.
'Will you be staying here for long?' The woman guided her into a small room. It had a single bed touching a wall, a table next to it, facing the window, and an unlit candle atop.
'Just till they open the travel route,' answered Eleonora. She rested her herb box on the little table and wondered how long it would be. She had wished to return home the same day, and hadn't packed much to survive for too long. Her coins too would run out in a few days.
'First visit to Ilyndor? I hope it went well. It's a beautiful city if you're not worrying about your next meal,' said the younger woman, trying to prolong the conversation.
Eleonora smiled, not knowing what else to do. She wasn't the most proficient when it came to holding light talk. She looked outside the window, the sky was clear and the moon was hiding behind the tall houses. It wasn't much of a view, but it had a soothing stillness to it.
'You can come downstairs to the tavern for breakfast and lunch. Usually we charge separately for those, but...'
Eleonora turned to face the young woman and raised her brows when she trailed off.
'Umm, my father isn't doing very well these days. We couldn't pay for a healer. I was hoping if...' she fidgeted nervously, embarrassed. 'If you could take a look at him. Your cloak- well, you don't have to pay for the food and stuff if... if you could only take a look at his condition. Please.'
Eleonora studied the woman's face. There was no malice there, only worry thinly veiled behind politeness. She gave a small nod. 'I'll see him in the morning if it isn't pressing.'
Relief softened the woman's shoulder. 'Thank you. Truly.'
Eleonora offered a faint smile, then turned back to the window as the door shut behind her. The streets below were silent, the night calm. Just a few days, she pacified herself. Just a few more days and she will be back home, away from the royal mess.