The Enchanted Bond: A Howl's Moving Castle Fanfiction ft His Imaginary Son

Chapter 9: Sparks of Jealousy

The morning sun bathed Porthaven in golden light, casting a warm glow over the town as it buzzed with excitement. The annual Market Day Festival was only four days away, and already, the streets hummed with activity. Merchants from distant lands set up their vibrant stalls, their wares gleaming under the bright sky, while the port brimmed with ships, each one teeming with goods from across the sea.

Eira stood beside her grandmother, Galena, at their familiar herbal stall. The day was busier than usual, with a steady stream of customers clamoring for remedies—preparations for the celebrations ahead. The air smelled of fresh herbs, roasted meats, and sweet confections. But amidst the excitement, Eira's mind was elsewhere.

"Eira, dear, pass me that bundle of thyme," Galena's voice interrupted her reverie, the request soft but grounding.

Snapping to attention, Eira handed over the herbs, but her gaze drifted again, scanning the crowd more than usual. There was a strange restlessness inside her, a feeling she couldn't quite place. Her eyes searched the sea of unfamiliar faces, though deep down, she knew exactly who she was looking for.

Ardain.

The thought of him unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Lately, he'd taken up more space in her thoughts than she liked. Ever since he'd recovered from his illness, she'd found herself waiting for his teasing remarks, for those infuriatingly charming smiles he'd toss her way as though they meant nothing. But today, there was no sign of him. Not yet, anyway.

"Still waiting?" Galena's gentle teasing cut through her thoughts again. Her voice was playful, but her eyes gleamed knowingly. "You'll frighten the customers away if you keep staring off like that."

Eira flushed. "I'm not waiting for anything," she mumbled, her face betraying her.

Galena's chuckle was soft, a grandmotherly sound that wrapped around Eira like a warm blanket. "He's just recovered, love. You can't expect him to be out already, especially in this madness."

"I'm not waiting for him!" Eira insisted, her tone sharper than intended. Her face warmed as Galena smiled knowingly but said nothing more.

The familiar rhythm of the market returned, and Eira forced herself to focus. But even as she measured herbs, wrapped them with practiced care, her thoughts were still on Ardain—until something caught her eye.

A flash of red.

The sight sliced through the crowd, drawing Eira's attention. A woman was moving through the market, her presence impossible to ignore. Tall and striking, with vibrant red hair that cascaded down her back, the woman commanded attention without even trying. Her sharp violet eyes seemed to cut through the air, taking in everything with a practiced gaze. She moved with an effortless grace, as though she owned the space around her. There was something about her that felt... wrong. Eira couldn't explain it, but the woman's beauty felt too perfect, too deliberate, like a carefully crafted illusion.

Eira frowned. Who was she?

She didn't recognize the woman from Porthaven, and new faces in their small town were always noticed. Especially faces like this one. As the woman drew closer, Eira's unease deepened, but it wasn't just because of her beauty. It was the man beside her.

Ardain.

Eira's heart stuttered at the sight of him, his familiar golden hair catching the sunlight as he moved through the throng of people with the woman on his arm. They were close—too close, walking side by side as if they belonged together.

Eira's chest tightened in a way that was both foreign and unpleasant. She couldn't name the feeling at first, didn't want to. It was sharp and suffocating, twisting low in her stomach. Jealousy. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and she clenched her fists at her sides. No. She had no right to feel this way. Ardain could do as he pleased. She didn't care.

Except... she did.

The woman leaned in close to Ardain, her lips brushing near his ear as she whispered something. Eira saw the small smile that tugged at Ardain's lips, and her heart clenched painfully. What was this? Ardain, who usually reserved those teasing smiles for her, was now sharing them with someone else.

"Eira?" Galena's voice was soft but laced with concern. "You've gone quiet."

Eira blinked, pulling her gaze away from the pair. Her cheeks burned as she busied herself with wrapping a bundle of herbs. "Just distracted," she muttered, though the tension in her voice betrayed her.

Galena watched her for a moment longer, eyes filled with quiet understanding, but said nothing. She turned back to their stall, leaving Eira alone with her spiraling thoughts.

Ardain and the woman moved deeper into the crowd, and for a moment, Eira considered letting them disappear. It would be easier to pretend she hadn't seen them. But before she could fully turn away, Ardain's gaze found hers.

Time seemed to freeze.

Across the bustling market, their eyes locked. Ardain's expression was unreadable, his blue eyes steady as they held hers. Eira's breath caught in her throat. Was that recognition in his gaze? Or guilt? Her mind raced with questions she didn't dare voice. For a moment, she thought he might walk toward her, break away from the woman, and explain himself.

But he didn't.

Instead, he offered her a small, almost reluctant smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes—and turned back to the woman at his side.

The knot in Eira's chest tightened. What was this? Why did it bother her so much?

She didn't understand. Just a few days ago, Ardain bared his soul to her, revealing his deepest worries and thoughts. And now...

Before she could untangle her feelings, a cheerful voice from the front of the stall interrupted her thoughts. "Good morning! Do you have anything for sore feet? These cobblestones are murder after all this walking!"

Eira forced herself to focus, grabbing a jar of ointment. "Rub this in, and you'll feel relief in minutes."

The customer frowned, still skeptical. "But I was hoping for something more immediate. These festivals don't wait, you know."

Eira's patience frayed. "Unless you want me to conjure up a miracle, this is as instant as it gets," she said, her tone sharper than usual. "Or you can try walking on your hands."

The customer blinked, clearly taken aback, but accepted the jar without further complaint.

As he walked away, Eira's gaze involuntarily flicked back to where Ardain and the woman had been. But they were gone, lost in the sea of market stalls and festival-goers.

The tightness in her chest didn't ease. If anything, it grew stronger, gnawing at her insides. She hated this—hated how much she cared. She didn't want to care. Ardain was free to walk beside any woman he chose.

But the truth, sharp and undeniable, was that she did care. And she didn't know what to do about it.