Chains of Violet

Chapter Two: A Travel of Tales

It only took visiting a couple Easthollow floral boutiques to put a healthy level of doubt on their hypothesis for unearthing Edeline's memories. Walking the fragrant shelves, observing beautiful arrangements, talking with the shopkeepers, and no new stirrings from the dark halls. Not a twinge or a jingle. Solemn silence.

The two of them walked out of the third and final florist's shop, the door ringing pleasantly as it closed behind them.

Edeline made a beeline for the cart, while Banter hung back, idly browsing the exterior displays—short, tiered, wooden shelves decorated with blooms that were in season, small clay pots, and intricately designed placards with lists of seeds and items they offered.

Edeline climbed onto the bench, cheeks and forehead burning. She took consolation in the fact that they were certain no one in Easthollow had connections to her. The town was small enough that if one person knew who she was, most others would too—or that's what Banter had told her before they'd arrived.

Banter had also politely described those who lived in Easthollow as "a somewhat insular group of busybodies," which had Edeline worried, even if she'd had amended by saying they were usually civil to passersthrough. 

Edeline was breathing through the smoldering embarrassment, wondering if she should try to find a change of clothes before more assumptions about her could be made, when she realized that her companion hadn't joined her yet. She looked over her shoulder.

Banter still loitered outside the shop, eyes trailing up and down the street.

Edeline gave her a questioning frown and Banter replied with a sly smile and a wink.

Then, with her foot, Banter casually hooked the nearest display by one of its legs and scooted it over just enough for the edge to sit in front of the seam between the entry door and the jamb—an "accident" waiting to happen whenever the next person came or went. Nothing business altering, but a perfect nuisance to repay their less than appropriate reception.

She gave the door a rhythmic run of knocks, then returned to the cart with air in her step. She artfully mounted back into her seat and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Had to leave him a little gift," she explained to Edeline below her breath as she leaned forward to retrieve the reins.

"Wh-"

Before Edeline could get the words out, a cacophony clattering and clanging announced the success of Banter's machinations as the door swung open, knocking the shelf askew and sending several pots and one of the signs to a swift embrace with the ground.

Banter sat up and looked at the mess, softening her smug grin into a look of shock. Putting a hand to her cheek, she said, "Oh gosh, that's a shame."

The florist took in the carnage then leveled her under a narrowed gaze. 

She twirled her hand, which glimmered with pale blue light.

The fallen sign lifted back onto the shelf, the unbroken pots trailing behind it. Smile reappearing, she tacked on, "From one florist to another, you really should be more careful with the way you do business," then snapped the reins.

His face cycled rapidly through different emotions, none of which could culminate before they were outside earshot.

Apples pulled them down the only street in town and out onto the wide open road to Aramoor. Uncultivated plains spread out in front of them, all the way to the horizon, a vast green expanse peppered with freckles of white and yellow wildflowers. In the far distance, a thin band of what Edeline guessed was a river wound its serpentine path westward, down from the north, the snowy caps of mountains barely visible over the top of the Beryl Woods behind them.