“You figured it out?”
His mouth quirks. “Just a little. I’m still working on it. It helps when you’re around.”
After a few heartbeats, a warmth spreads across my cheeks, and although I can’t help but feel shy, Anders remains focused on me, his free hand moving up and down my arm, gently caressing me as I regain control. The slide of his cool hands along my arm sends a wave of goosebumps over my skin. He tightens his grip, interlacing our fingers in a way that feels utterly natural as he turns for the door, ignoring the fact that we both just called on magic we shouldn’t possess—not yet anyway.
“Ready?” he murmurs, his breath brushing against my ear like a summer breeze. I nod, enthralled as he tugs me closer to his side, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
A carved sign on the glass door reads “Welcome to Seamark Shallows.” I stall for all of a heartbeat before my head falls back as I laugh. Anders seems to stall, entirely unsure of what is happening. Through my giggles, I breathlessly point out that I believed the village was, in fact, named the Bubble Village.
A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he shrugs. “It is in my mind. Ever since I was little, I’ve called it that. I sometimes forget that its true name is Seamark Shallows.” After a minute, my giggles calm, but a few chuckles still rattle me as he brushes my hair back. “Besides, I like my version better.” I allow myself to live in the moment, leaning against him, my neck arched as I gaze up at him with abandon, my smile genuine and free.
His free hand slides to the nape of my neck, bringing his forehead to mine as he breathes me in. “Keep smiling at me like that, and I’ll never let you go.” Before I can respond, he pulls away and opens the door, tugging me inside.
All my protests and questions die the instant my gaze settles on the room. Inside, the marketplace buzzes with life, showcasing four levels of shops, each brimming with a diverse array of wares. Lush plants from around the kingdom are draped elegantly throughout the space. At the heart of the dome lies a gathering area filled with rustic wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and stools, where villagers share meals and engage in lively discussions.
“This is the heart of the village,” Anders says, his voice filled withpride. “This is where they eat, where they hold their meetings. All of their shopping is conducted here and often done in trade.” We take the weathered wooden steps, the creak of the boards noting our ascent. The air is fragrant with scents of various cuisines, making my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
While one shop we pass offers an array of prepared meals, another showcases crates brimming with vibrant fruits and vegetables. My senses are immediately captivated by a bakery, where the aroma of freshly baked croissants and honey rolls wafts through the air, making my stomach rumble loud enough that Anders’ gaze snaps to me. I offer him a slight shrug back. Just beside it, another shop is dedicated to sweet treats, all neatly displayed in glass cases: muffins, cakes, and tarts.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” My voice is tinged with wonder as I take in the sights. As we stroll along, our hands still interlaced, Anders gently pulls me closer, releasing my hand only to drape his arm over my shoulder, keeping me from overheating. He approaches one of the counters to place an order for two dishes, and as he reaches for his coins, the shopkeepers and patrons begin to notice us, recognition flickering on their faces.
Feeling their gazes land on me, I attempt to pull back, but Anders’ grip tightens reassuringly, holding me close and tucked into his side. A nervousness spreads through me as I look around and see the gentle smiles on people’s faces as they glance between us. Friends can hold hands and each other, right?
“My Prince,” one of the villagers says, dropping to a knee. Others follow as whispers carry through the dome; before we know it, everyone has bowed. Anders gestures with his free hand to rise. I watch as his shoulders rise and fall. I know how it feels to be surrounded by people who’ve placed their faith and trust in you when you feel so undeserving and incapable of the job.
“Thank you for coming,” one of the men says, his voice shaky as he stretches out a weathered hand. It almost startles me that he would be thanked. Perhaps it’s because King Aki has been missing, and there are fewer visits? Most royals try to get to their different planets atleast once a year to see their people. My guess is Queen Priana is probably overwhelmed running the kingdom herself.
Intertwining our fingers again, we are ushered to the center of the dome, where we are placed at the head table, and two large, comfortable chairs are brought over. I thank them kindly as another man, this one young, most likely still in his teenage years, delivers our food. Moments later, an older woman, short and thick, her hair gray and pulled into a tight bun, sets bubble-shaped glasses filled with a blue liquid and covered in some sort of cream before us.
“For you.” She offers us a soft smile and gestures for us to try it. It is only then that Anders releases my hand, and I instantly ache for his touch. I take a tentative sip, the chilled liquid coating my tongue as my taste buds explode with the flavor of coconut and berries.
“Thank you,” I say with genuine gratitude as I take another eager sip from the glass. The vibrant, refreshing concoction dances on my taste buds, and I can already tell it has claimed the title of my new favorite drink. I lean in toward Anders. “Do you think we could recreate this at school?”
He maintains steady eye contact, a playful glint in his eyes, as he lowers his mouth over my straw, drawing up the last remnants of the blue liquid. My heart races at the sight of his lips enveloping the straw where mine just were, sending a warm rush through me, igniting a wholly different and inappropriate heat that spreads throughout my body, straight to the apex of my thighs. I can hardly focus on anything else as I become acutely aware of the moment, the closeness between us, and the building tension that lingers in the air.
His lips quirk into a subtle smile as he pulls away from me. “Delicious.” I nearly choke on my own spit.
The atmosphere around us buzzes as guests filter in, each one pausing to greet us with friendly smiles or to present us with thoughtful gifts. Most of the offerings are handcrafted treasures made from rich, polished wood, reflecting the skill of local artisans. Others bring forth enticing food dishes, eager to share their creations. My heart swells with delight when a fresh, warm roll is placed on the table, the steam still rising from its perfectly golden crust.
As we eat, the flavors explode in my mouth. The seafood is tender, the fluffy rice has been soaked in rich broths, and the vegetables are perfectly roasted, all harvested from the fields surrounding the village. I might have let out an involuntary moan of pleasure, much to Anders’ amusement, who raises an eyebrow at my shameless enjoyment.
A young girl, draped in soft pink, her golden brown hair braided with little bows, approaches our table with a large basket of trinkets she is selling. When her horrified mother comes rushing forward, we wave her off. Inside the basket are woven bags crafted with intricate patterns, alongside bubble-shaped terrariums that house a glowing aquamarine and peach-colored flowers resembling a large raspberry, which Anders explains are Etlingera Elatior.
I purchase a few items, including all the flowers, deciding to gift them to my friends and staff. I tip generously, thanking the young girl. After lunch, we wander through the stalls, some inspiring me with their sustainable practices. Nothing here goes to waste; everything has a purpose or use.
As we move throughout the marketplace, I purchase a light summer dress, spun from local Haka trees—a material similar to bamboo, yet as sturdy as cotton. When I model it for Anders, his gaze never leaves my accentuated hips. Anders buys a seagrass doll, dressed in a handmade patchwork dress, alongside a large, pink, pearlescent conch shell. I discover a spyglass made from recycled glass, deciding to gift it to my father, a medicinal book filled with local herbs and healing practices for my mother, and an old scabbard paired with an intricately crafted dagger for Kellan. Before we know it, our arms and my bag are laden with gifts.
“So, Princess,” Anders says as we stroll over one of the many bridges. “How has the Bubble Village lived up to your expectations?” The world around us fades into a blur, and for once, I hate that every time we attempt a kiss, it’s interrupted. All I’d have to do is lean up on my toes and press my mouth to his, but with prying eyes all around us, it’s too risky.
Instead of telling him to kiss me, I say, “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s a lovely place. If you ever come to Kyrr, I’ll have to show youmy favorite village.” He squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything further. The water beneath the bridge sparkles in the late afternoon sunlight. Anders shifts, and as I glance up, I notice a man approaching, eyeing us both. Anders not so subtly swaps sides with me, taking my left hand as we continue across the bridge.
A chill sweeps up my spine, and I notice Anders’ slight movement as he positions himself in front of me.
As the man nears, I notice his worn, thin cloak covering wrinkled, ashen skin, but his violet eyes give me pause. He stops before us, his eyes locked solely on me behind Anders’ shoulder. “The birth of the new dawn is coming, Light-bringer,” the man rasps.
The man bows before us both, and Anders tenses. The weird interaction is over before we can say anything, and the man continues on in the opposite direction.
“What does that mean?” I look over my shoulder, recalling the exact words from the temple. But as I look back, the man has already vanished. Anders shakes his head, displeased with the interaction, and mutters about strange people before protectively wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we continue to the other side.
