"Pick something," I tell her.
"I don't..." She bites her lip. "I don't know what half of these things are."
Right. She's been stuck in a human village her whole life. Probably never had anything more exotic than bread and stew.
I guide her to a stall selling candied nimond beans—sweet and rich, with a hint of spice. The vendor, a gorgon with emerald scales, offers us a sample and Senna's face lights up when she tastes it.
"Oh." She covers her mouth, eyes widening. "That's... wow."
I buy her an entire bag.
We move through the market like that, stopping at every stall that catches her interest. I get her fried dough from a satyr vendor, roasted brimbark from a fae merchant, and a cup of something cold and fizzy that makes her laugh when the bubbles tickle her nose.
She's smiling. Really, genuinelysmiling, and it does something dangerous to my chest.
This is what I wanted. This lightness. This joy. I want her to look at me the way she did at the Masquerade—like I'm someone worth knowing. Someone worth choosing.
Not because the bond forced her to, but because shewantsto.
We end up at a small restaurant tucked between two larger buildings, with tables spilling out onto the cobblestone street and lanterns strung overhead. It's late afternoon now, the sun starting its descent toward the horizon, and the golden light makes everything look softer.
I pull out a chair for Senna and she sits, smoothing her new dress with a self-conscious gesture that makes me want to kiss her until she forgets to be nervous.
A server appears—a woman with nymph heritage with violet skin and pointed ears—and I order for both of us. Roasted zarryn with herbs, fresh bread, and a bottle of wine that I can't wait to see her try.
Senna watches me over the rim of her glass when it arrives, those storm-gray eyes thoughtful.
"What?" I lean back in my chair, wings shifting behind me.
"This is..." She gestures vaguely at the restaurant, the market, the city spread out around us. "This is a lot."
"You deserve a lot."
She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "I've barley known you more than a day."
"Doesn't matter." I reach across the table, catching her hand in mine. "The bond chose us. I chose you. And I'm going to spend every day proving that was the right choice."
Her fingers tighten around mine. "You already have."
The bond pulses between us, warm and content, and I feel her attraction like a physical thing. Not just the remnants of last night's passion, but something deeper. Real. Shewantsme. Wants this. Wantsus.
And fuck, that feels good.
The food arrives and we eat slowly, talking about nothing and everything. She tells me about growing up in the village, about her parents dying when she was young, about her uncle selling her off like livestock to settle a debt. I tell her about Lora, about my bakeries, about how much I fucking hate crowds and social politics.
She laughs at that—light and musical, a sound I want to bottle and keep forever.
"I'm still shocked you came to the Masquerade," she teases.
"Wait til you meet my sister." I grimace. "She wouldn't let it go. Kept saying I needed to get out more, meet people. I thought I wouldn't make it the hour I promised her."
"And you stayed all night."
"Because of you." I brush my thumb over her knuckles. "The moment I saw you, I knew I wasn't leaving without you."
She ducks her head, that blush creeping back across her cheeks. "You didn't even see my face."
"Didn't need to. I felt it—here." I press my free hand over my heart. "The bond. Like something in me recognized something in you."
