Elira had nearly forgotten how nervous she'd been when she first stepped into the square. Now the market seemed to carry her along like a river current. Voices rose and fell around her, merchants shouting prices, children laughing as they darted between stalls, the ringing clatter of metal from the blacksmith's corner.
"Fresh bread!!" Elira called, lifting the cloth from her basket. "Warm from the oven this morning!" Her long black hair swayed across her back each time she turned her head to call to the crowd, the dark strands catching glimmers of sunlight that slipped between the market tents. A few loose pieces had escaped the simple ribbon tying it back, brushing softly against her cheeks as she moved. Her green eyes shimmered brightly with the sun rays beaming on her face. Despite the plainness of her dress there was a quiet beauty about her that did not go unnoticed among the passing crowd.
Another customer stopped, bought a loaf, and moved on. Then another paused, sniffed the bread approvingly, and handed over two copper coins. Each small sale steadied Elira's nerves.
Her basket was already much lighter while her coin pouch had grown heavier. Mother will be proud, she thought.
She had just called out again when a sudden shift of people rippled through the square.
It wasn't loud. The market didn't stop. But something in the crowd changed.
Heads turned.
Elira noticed a few girls near the textile stalls begin whispering to one another. They leaned close together, their heads nearly touching as they tried to hide their excitement. One quickly smoothed the front of her dress while another tugged at the ribbon in her hair. A third girl pinched her cheeks lightly, hoping to bring a bit more color to her face.
Soft giggles passed between them as their eyes drifted toward the shift in the crowd.
One girl straightened her posture entirely, as if suddenly remembering how a proper lady ought to stand straight, while another pretended to examine a roll of fabric she had clearly stopped looking at several moments before.
A few merchants straightened their displays as if preparing for an important customers.
As Elira trailed the focus of the girls and the other villagers attentions she noticed the Royal Guard making way.
They walked in a loose formation across the square, their armor polished bright enough to catch the sun. Crimson cloaks fell from their shoulders, swaying behind them as they moved, the royal western crest stitched proudly across the fabric.. The crowd parted instinctively to make room.
But it was one guard in particular who drew the most attention.
He walked slightly ahead of the others, tall and broad-shouldered, his stride easy and confident as if the noise of the market could never touch him. Dark hair fell loosely around his temples, tied back at the nape of his neck, and a faint scar cut across one eyebrow — a mark that somehow made him look more striking rather than less.
Several girls near the textile stalls straightened immediately when he passed.
One even dropped the bundle of fabric she had been pretending to examine.
The guard seemed entirely unaware of the effect he had.
Or perhaps simply used to it.
His gaze moved calmly across the square as he walked, observant but relaxed.
Elira watched them for only a moment before turning back to her basket. Guards passed through the market often enough. Still, they always drew attention she thought to herself.
Regaining focus and taking her attention off the guards for the sake of her confidence she called out "Fresh bread!"
This caught the attention of the guard the was leading the path.
He heard Elira's voice.
"Fresh bread! Waaaarm from the oven!" Elira's voice rang like a melody.
His head turned. And his steps slowed. He stepped toward her stall.
Elira didn't notice him just as he came to stand right behind her. Without a second not to spare Elira took a step backwards to turn her direction to the other side of the market.
"Fresh bre—" She collided instantly with something solid. Metal struck against metal with a sharp jingling clatter.
Elira froze.
The basket nearly slipped from her arm as she stumbled forward again, her breath catching in her chest.
Her voice immediately died in her throat. Slowly, she turned around and as she looked up the sun had vanished. A tall figure stood behind her, his broad frame casting a shadow that shielded her from the bright morning light. Polished armor gleamed inches from her face, the royal crest engraved in gold across the breastplate. And for a moment, the entire noise of the market seemed to disappear.
A royal guard.
The only distance separating them was her basket.
He glanced down at the basket caring the loaves.
"Fresh, you said?" With a smile stretched from ear to ear. Little did she know the smile was not meant for the fresh bread it was meant for her.
Elira gaining her courage nodded quickly, lifting the cloth without a word.
"Yes, sir. Baked this morning by my mother." She said with a flush of pink touching her cheeks. Trying desperately not to be embarrassed by the closeness the two shared.
The guard leaned slightly closer and breathed in the warm scent.
"Gods," he muttered, almost to himself. "That smells better than anything we've eaten this week."
Elira face lit up with a genuine smile.
"My mother makes them daily but we come to the market on the weekends," she said. "She says bread tastes better if you're patient with the dough."
"Your mother is a wise woman." The guard said with a wink.
He reached into his pouch and dropped five silver coin into her palm.
Elira blinked with confusion.
"That's too much!!" she said quickly. "A loaf is only two copper coins."
"Then I'll take what's left in your basket."
Elira's eyes widened, "All of it?"
He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Unless you'd rather keep the rest for yourself?"
For a moment she simply stared at him, unsure if she had heard correctly. No one had ever bought so much bread from her at once.
One by one she lifted the warm loaves from the basket, placing them carefully into the satchel he opened at his side. The rich scent of wheat rose between them as she worked, the last of the morning's warmth still lingering in the crust.
By the time the basket was empty, Elira stared down into it in disbelief. She had sold everything.