Ch#84
“From up here, the view doesn’t reach the far end.”
Certain sections of the market lay hidden from the terrace, drawing my shoulders repeatedly toward the balustrade.
“There—Leta and Morina!”
“Where?… Oh, got them. They’ve got candied fruit. Mouthwatering.”
Below, Leta savored a rare stretch of liberty, wandering linked arm-in-arm with her little sister.
“Why not head down there yourself?” Tiern suggested as I craned forward yet again. He lingered close, hands fluttering uselessly in the air, forbidden from making contact.
“If I do, won’t I disrupt everyone?”
It’s you who’s suffering watching this, his gaze implied.
I averted my eyes, feigning ignorance.
Since the fiasco with the egg, this marked the largest crowd I’d faced, and unease gnawed at me.
I’d chosen simple attire to blend in, yet venturing out would summon an escort of knights, riveting every stare my way.
Nothing can mar a day this perfect.
A wistful sigh escaped me.
Strolling alongside Loic would have been ideal.
With him, no knights required—no one would dare impude. I could browse freely.
Yet amid such throngs, his presence was out of the question.
The merriment and shouts from below rang remote, as if from another’s world.
“Everyone seems utterly joyful,” Cecilia murmured nearby, propping her chin in her palm, her gaze tinged with subdued longing.
“Cecilia, why not join them downstairs?”
“And abandon Your Highness? I’d appear utterly faithless.”
“No reason for you both to linger up here.”
“The vantage is decent enough from this spot.”
“Won’t Lady Territo arrive shortly?”
“True, but…”
While most guests were townsfolk, select nobles had received bids too, to help circulate the buzz—including Lady Territo, mother to Cecilia and Norton.
“If you head down, fetch me a croissant. That aroma’s wafting up.”
Cecilia wavered, then rose.
“I’ll grab an apple pie as well. Adem swears it’s divine.”
I gave her a light nudge.
“Take your time. Sir Tiern and I will keep each other company.”
“Kh—” A choked sound erupted from Tiern at my back.
Cecilia eyed me dubiously about being left alone with him, but at last, she ambled away.
Gazing down, I caught sight of Lady Territo promenading arm-in-arm with her daughter. Close by, Norton chided Cecilia over some trifling matter, sparking a sibling squabble.
Such a warm family scene.
Shoppers darted briskly between the abundance of stalls. Others snatched treats and settled lakeside to savor the vista.
The bazaar hummed with easy vitality.
Goldrain pales in comparison, truly.
Initially, I’d envisioned grand emporiums lining the shore, Goldrain-style. The Merchant Guild’s refusal prompted halving the sizes and doubling the count.
It lowered barriers for modest vendors—a stroke of genius, in hindsight.
Talented craftsfolk flocked in; food carts spun quick profits. Paired with the lakeside allure, it primed the spot for tourist allure.
I crafted it myself, yet even I foresee triumph.
“The fountain display kicks off shortly,” Tiern noted, catching my faint fidgeting.
“Yes.”
Twilight deepened, yet lanterns and lamps bathed the market in a vivacious glow.
I wonder if my duke has dined yet.
Peculiar.
Enveloped in clamor and radiance, solitude crept in regardless.
“You’ve been on your feet ages,” Tiern observed.
“I’m all right.”
The terrace held chairs and tables, but perching there obscured the railing’s outlook.
Still, my legs ache a bit.
I shifted stance; a calf seized up from prolonged standing.
“Ah!”
I teetered on the brink of falling—
—until firm fingers gripped my waist.
Not Tiern—he’d never presume.
And that crisp fragrance…
“Loic?”
The ashen visage beneath a sable cloak hovered near.
“Are you hurt?”
“How on earth…?”
“On horseback.”
He repositioned my hand to steady me fully.
“That’s hardly the point…!”
Early summer sweltered, yet Loic donned heavy ebony robes and gauntlets.
“You didn’t… shoulder plates too?”
I glimpsed beneath the cloak—beneath those powerful shoulders gleamed unyielding plate, a mobile fortress.
All this to sidestep collisions?
“I figured I ought to inspect it. Though… strolling side by side seems unfeasible.”
Crowds swelled thicker for the fountain spectacle.
I limited tickets… yet extras are slipping through.
In the press, contact proved inevitable—doubly so for Loic’s stature.
Regret shadowed his features.
He recalled my words from days prior, as I knotted his cravat:
—“Wouldn’t it be lovely to wander together, taking it all in—!”
I’d trailed off, flushing; since then, Loic had grown unusually subdued.
This very morning, protesting my solo capability, he’d seemed crestfallen.
Yet here he stood.
Tenderly, he swept aside my stray tresses.
“Why remain here, Annette? Not venturing out?”
“Ah…”
Too many bodies; I dread another jostle.
“It’s okay. The view suffices from above.”
“And your attendant? She abandoned you?”
“Off to meet her mother.”
I laughed softly.
“I’m no infant. I can fend for myself.”
Loic’s severe expression eased; comprehension dawned on why I’d stayed put.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, pitch hushed against Tiern’s ears.
“I… lack the ease of ordinary folk in crowds…”
His frame sagged, akin to a hound botching its retrieve.
Clad head to toe in midnight hues, eyes flicking warily, he evoked less a pup—more a shadowed wolf.
“What apology? We’ll view it together from here.”
I clasped the velvet of his sleeve, drawing him near.
“That wouldn’t trouble you?”
“Hardly. The fountain shines brightest from on high.”
Detailing my intent to remain terrace-bound anyway coaxed a subtle glow to his countenance.
“It’s enjoyable up here regardless. See?”
Eagerly, I gestured outward; Loic bent beside me.
“That juice vendor boasts the snakiest queue. Sir Leon claims its fame endures from cart days. Northerners loathe lines, yet behold!”
“Indeed. And that rear café—visible to you?”
“Your eyes reach that? Yellow awning’s my limit.”
Shoulder to shoulder, I launched into buoyant chatter.
“Why such a rabble of plebeians?!”
Meisel snapped at her servant, irked.
She’d anticipated an elegant gala upon hearing of the “Eve Festival.”
Merely a raucous fair!
She’d hoarded a hundred Northern News issues covertly, yet snagged no invite.
Desperate, she’d paid a gate stranger to pose as escort.
Hood drawn tight, lax guards let her slip through.
But where’s the Duke?
An hour’s fruitless prowl unraveled her composure.