“A treasure map?” he cut in, eyes alight with mischief.
Vivienne’s lips twitched. “Not a treasure map.”
The corners of her mouth curled into something smug.
“A study guide.”
11
Lewis groaned, slumping back in his chair as if gravity had doubled. "You're determined to let me die of starvation."
They’d spent hours poring over every book in the house, desperate to match anything to the symbols, plants, and entries in her mother’s journal. Some plants resembled the sketches, and certain symbols mirrored languages Vivienne could read, but nothing lined up exactly.
She exhaled sharply. "You’re not starving to death, Lewis."
He tapped a finger against his chin, eyes flickering with mock contemplation. "If only there were, I don’t know, a city-wide festival today featuring a huge feast, where we have an open invitation…"
Vivienne snapped her book shut. "You want to go to the Harvest Moon Festival? Lewis, we don’t have time—we leave tomorrow."
"The only food in this house," he announced, pointing accusingly at the nearly bare shelves, "is a jar of something I’m scared to identify. " His gaze flicked back to her, deadpan. "You’re telling me you’d rather play mystery jar roulette than take a break?"
She rolled her eyes, but hunger gnawed at her too. A glance around the kitchen confirmed what Lewis had already pointed out. The shelves were near-empty and collecting dust. She hadn’t shopped in weeks, not seeing the point while Briar was away.
Briar.Her stomach clenched. Their last conversation sat heavy in her chest, an unanswered question she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to face.Will I see her before we leave? Does she even want to see me?
"Fine," she relented, shoving back her chair. "We can go eat at the festival, but we’re not staying long."
Lewis scoffed. "Oh, come on, Viv. No one’s expecting us anywhere, our trunks are packed, and this," he waved at the cluttered table, "has led us exactly nowhere. What else do we have to do tonight? Relax."
Relax.Not exactly a skill she’d mastered. Even in her downtime, she felt the need to make it productive. A lifetime of being pushed to achieve, to prove herself, had made stillness feel unnatural. When your worth is tied to your accomplishments, it’s a hard habit to break.Tomorrow we leave for who knows how long. Maybe we deserve a night out.
"Alright," she said, rising from her seat. "Let’s go to a festival."
Lewis didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He sprang to his feet, practically bolting to the front door. Vivienne followed at a less enthusiastic pace.
Grinning, he swung the door open and gave a flourishing bow. "This way, Your Grace, the Honorable Lady of the Corn Cobs."
Vivienne shook her head, laughing, deciding to humor him.
"Thank you, my good sir," she said, lifting her chin with exaggerated grandeur as she sailed through the doorway, letting herself enjoy the moment.
* * *
As they neared the festival,a tide of sound and scent crashed over them. The hum of conversation wove through the Market Square, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the rhythmic clap of dancing feet. The air carried the mingled aromas of roasted venison, garlic, and rosemary, blending with the sweetness of honey-glazed vegetables and the earthy warmth of sage butter potatoes.
Linen-draped tables stretched across the square, their surfaces laden with steaming platters, interspersed with hand-carved figurines of Elandra, goddess of love, fertility, and harvest, and Rhuevenar, god of the wild, beasts, and the hunt. Ribbons in the royal blue and gold fluttered overhead, their movement mirroring the sway of flower garlands tied to lampposts and doorways. Wandering musicians filled the air with cheerful melodies, their songs telling of ripened fields and changing seasons.
Lewis and Vivienne wove through the throng, dodging merchants, children darting between legs, and revelers already deep into their cups. Spotting an opening at a table near a row of vendor stalls, they claimed their seats. Vivienne barely had time to settle before Lewis returned, plate piled high, attacking his meal with the urgency of a man who feared it might vanish before his eyes.
She held back a smirk, watching him shovel bites into his mouth.Maybe I really was starving him.Giving in to her own hunger, she savored each bite, letting the rich flavors melt on her tongue.
They had arrived too late for the grand procession through the village and had missed most of the day’s competitions. Still, they cheered wildly as contestants barreled past the finish line in foot races and dug their heels into the ground during tug-of-war. When the pie-baking contest rolled around, they graciously volunteered for the sample testing, deliberating their favorites with the solemnity of royal judges.
The festival stalls brimmed with silks in vivid hues, bottles of fragrant oils, and handcrafted jewelry that glinted in the lantern light. Vivienne traced her fingers over intricate beadwork, her mind torn. Should she take this on the ship? If she left it behind, would she ever use it?
By the time the harvest moon crested the horizon, Vivienne and Lewis found themselves wandering toward the beaches, candied apples in hand. The golden glow of festival lanterns flickered in the distance, their light stretching across the sand in long, rippling patterns.
Lewis, ever observant, caught the hint of a smile playing at Vivienne’s lips and bumped her with his elbow.
