"Sometimes." He turned to look at her. "Less so lately."
Heat touched her cheeks and she looked away, focusing on the valley below. "There's something happening tonight, isn't there? I heard music when I woke up."
"The Harvest Festival. Three days of celebration before winter." He paused. "You'll only see the first night, but—"
"But I'll see it," she said. "That's what matters."
A comfortable silence settled between them. The warmth in her chest pulsed gently, contentedly, as if it too appreciated this moment of peace.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For sharing this with me."
"Thank you for wanting to see it." He stood, offering his hand. "Come on. There's still more of the court to explore, and Marta threatened to hunt me down if I didn't bring you for lunch."
She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. The touch lingered a moment longer than necessary before they both let go.
Walking back down the path, she memorized everything, the dappled sunlight through leaves, the distant sound of the river, and the way Arion moved through his territory with quiet confidence. In the morning she'd return to calculated cruelty and gilded cages.
For now, she had this and for that she was content.
The afternoon passed in a blur of small wonders: lunch with Marta fussing over her, children explaining their games, corridors filled with preparation for the evening's festivities. But as the sun began its descent, Arion walked her back to her room.
"The festival starts at sunset," he said. "I'll come find you?"
"I'd like that."
When she opened her door, she found gowns, a rainbow of silk and gossamer, laid across her bed. Her fingers traced over them, pausing at a deep red that made her stomach turn. Even here, even in kindness, red would always be Eliam's color now.
She pushed it aside.
Her hands drifted, finally settling on a gown that seemed to capture the transition between day and night.
The bodice was a deep midnight blue, adorned with silver embroidery that traced constellations across the fitted fabric. The bodice gradually faded through purple to rose pink at the sleeves and hem, as if dawn was breaking across the fabric itself.
Stars were scattered throughout, some embroidered, some appearing to be woven into the very material, catching light that didn't exist. The underskirt remained that deep celestial blue, visible through the gossamer pink overlay when she moved.
She dressed carefully, marveling at how the fabric seemed to shift between colors depending on the angle: midnight, to rose, to something in between that had no name. The long sleeves gathered at her wrists, adorned by silver cuffs, the graceful drape of the fabric hiding the marks on her arms while making her feel elegant rather than hidden.
Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Not the terrified human from the motel, not Eliam's decorated possession, but something else, someone who belonged at celebrations under stars.
A knock came just as she finished adjusting the flowing skirts.
"Come in," she called.
Arion entered and stopped mid-step. His eyes swept over her and something flickered across his face, surprise followed by something warmer that made her pulse quicken.
"You look beautiful," he said simply.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Beautiful. Not appropriate, not suitable, not acceptable. Just beautiful. The compliment sat strangely in her chest, too sincere to deflect, toogenuine to dismiss. She didn't know what to do with kindness that asked for nothing in return.
"Thank you," she managed, then noticed his own attire. He wore deep silver tonight, the fabric catching light like moonlight on water. A simple but elegant tunic over fitted dark pants, nothing ostentatious but somehow perfect for him. The color made his hair seem to glow. "You look... you clean up well yourself."
His smile widened at her fumbled compliment. "Shall we? The festival's already starting."
She took his offered arm, hyperaware of the warmth of him through the fabric. The mark flared, not painful, just a warmth, a reminder, and Briar heard Eliam’s voice in the back of her mind.Savor each moment, you'll need those memories later if you’re going to survive.
Her steps faltered slightly.
"Are you alright?" Arion paused, studying her face with those green eyes that were so different from Eliam's yet somehow familiar.
