The shores of Chiori washed to life with the Yinae Oceans' salty brine, ebbing and flowing over the sand in short ripples followed by a sweeping undercurrent. When the sapphire water parted and revealed shells and sea life buried within the kelp, children would squeal and chase the bubbling foam back towards the ocean.

The cycle repeated even as the sun crested the horizon line and left them swallowed in the purple hues of dusk quickly fading.

Iliya felt her stomach churning like those waves as they disappeared, plummeting deeper into her gut as people shoved into her without thought. They pushed into her arms and ran into her legs, sneaking all around her.

Her one constant anchor was the tall Prince, side stepping in front of her, giving her something to hold onto. A buoy in the sea of people surrounding them.

She'd never felt simultaneously so seen and ignored.

Iliya's mind reeled, tracing from the scrape on her ankle from where the teenage Therian boy tripped over her to the phantom fingers of Sorein's hand tugging her to safety.

She didn't know why she'd snapped at him so harshly, only that the sounds were loud and overwhelming. Hushed voices echoed off of every surface, yelling both shrill and deep filled the air in between.

The closer everyone came to her, the less she was able to swallow.

Eyes skimming the crowds for her rendezvous, Iliya realized she didn't hear any of the things Sorein had been saying for a few minutes. He was pointing to different aspects of the festival, but his words sounded far away, as if she'd gotten lost in another reality.

They stopped in line at one of the vendors, a shorter lady with graying black hair and broad shoulders. Iliya wondered if she'd been a mother or a nursemaid with muscles like that. Her aprons were worn over a very nice dress. The contrast fascinated her.

This whole adventure felt like a very bad dream.

Night wrapped over them quickly, stars peeking out from their hiding spots. Offering little light just before the moon escaped the clouds, Iliya found her eyes focusing and unfocusing on Sorein's head.

His hair blended in and out of the night, so dark it was only distinguishable with the help of those stars.

One by one, people thanked the vendor and left with their lanterns.

"Is everything okay?" Sorein asked, casting a side glance over his shoulder.

Iliya's lips parted to speak but the words wouldn't come out. She felt the crests of her ears burning as sound struggled, bobbing in her throat. "I-I, Why?"

She cursed herself for looking like an idiot.

"You're staring," he said. The corner of his lip twitched, his hands fumbling with something Iliya couldn't see.

The heat spread from her ears to her cheeks, eyes darting away. She focused on the vendor, on the soft waves climbing the shore, and on anything other than his face.

Iliya wanted to forget the smirk lurking in those storm infested irises.

"Sorry," she countered.

He shrugged, stepping forward in one swift motion and turning back to her again. "Are you sure?"

"That I'm sorry or I'm okay?" she found herself asking.

"Either," he laughed. "Both."

Iliya watched Sorein reach out and take one of the offered lanterns, the way he softly smiled and nodded towards the vendor. His lantern was a rich, faded brown. The color often reminded her of the markings she'd seen on many warriors' arms, the languages and names of soldiers before them.

Prayers to Aida and Taranis.

As he walked away from the line and stood off to the side, she managed to realize she was staring again before he noticed.

Iliya stepped forward and pointed to a lantern the color of her dress, attempting to mirror the smile she'd seen Sorein give. Perhaps polite was the word.

The vendor gave her a secret smile and slipped one of the nicer lanterns from the end of her pack into Iliya's hands.

She traced the wrinkles in the soft paper, her smile blossoming into a genuine grin. This was truly happening. She was going to allow herself one freedom this year, one magical moment.

As her shoulders began to relax and her thoughts organized themselves, Iliya felt the anxiety melting off her in waves. Each took a tightly wound string of dread with it.

Sorein both minded the people in attendance and didn't. She had noticed before how he always knew where every person was, every destination, every path. He took care to memorize them all, amidst his glazed over, bored expression. Iliya learned quickly that no matter how much he ignored reality, Sorein also knew it inside and out.

She didn't think he even realized how much he observed, only noting how safe it made her feel to travel alongside someone who was always watching.

Weaving through a group of Therians, Iliya made her way up to the Prince with a small smile. "So, where is your entourage?" she asked.

He shrugged, eyes scanning behind her before meeting her gaze. "I don't know."

Iliya's brows furrowed. "You don't know?"

"I have no idea, actually," Sorein chuckled. "But I guess there's a first for everything."

She wondered if she would ever meet them, if she would ever get the chance to learn why they followed the Prince so diligently. Perhaps she understood why Jeremy did, as Andrin's Captain it seemed fitting.

But Iliya realized how little she knew of Noah Whitecross.

"The Chieftain's Daughter is on the Northernmost dock," he said quietly, lowering his voice to only her. His eyes became distant as he spoke. "If you were wondering."

"You found her?" Iliya asked.

Sorein's stare veered away from hers, lifting as he turned to point. In the light of two braziers stood Qudja, whose hands clasped tightly to her lantern as she looked back and forth. Afraid. Uncomfortable.

Before she knew what was happening, Iliya felt Sorein's hand on her back. He guided her through the massive attending audience, leading her up the gazebo's stairs and stopping just before they made it across the clearing.

"I trust you'll be okay now?" he inquired, lowering his head once more.

Iliya nodded, offering a reassuring half-smile. "I think so."

Sorein's eyes clouded with something she couldn't read, a thought she didn't have access to living among them. He appeared downcast, just short of agitated.

She didn't like that look on him.

"I'll come find you when the Ceremony is over," Sorein said, smiling as if he knew she was trying to read him. His eyes washed of all emotion, those thoughts locked up tight.

"Where will you be?" Iliya wondered. "Will you go find your friends?"

"Something like that," he replied, the words guarded.

Iliya nodded again, feeling the distance grow between them before he even moved. The cold tension was only palpable when they spoke, she noticed. So many things left unsaid, left without mending.

"Okay," she offered, trying to pretend as though everything was fine, just as he was.

"I'll see you soon," he said, nodding to her. "Enjoy spending time with your friend."

Sorein flipped up his hood and straightened his jacket before turning and heading down the steps.

The pit in Iliya's stomach swelled as he made it to the last step, her legs carrying her after him to the edge. She wanted to tell him to come back, to spend the evening with them. Thousands of words lodged in her throat, fighting for a spot on her tongue.

Her whole body forced her to stare after him, begging.

"Rein!" She called.

He froze.

Don't go. Stay here.

Everything would be so much easier if she could speak.

Sorein's head turned ever so slightly, his shoulders tensing.

It had been ages since she'd called him that.

Iliya saw a gleam in his eyes that she couldn't understand, worsening the pounding in her chest. Too much, she was about to ask too much of him.

Her fingers kneaded into her palms as she gathered her composure and smiled. "Thank you."

They were the last words she'd wanted to say, not to mention the last words he'd likely wanted to hear.

A laugh brushed the edges of Sorein's exhale, his smile widening. "Any time."

And just like that he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

~ 🔮 ~

"I thought you'd changed your mind," Qudja greeted, crossing the pavilion to meet Iliya halfway.

She clutched the lantern tightly to her chest, the paper crinkling against the sequins woven into her pantsuit. Qudja's black one-piece flowed delicately from her legs, curving against her hips and waist and allowing room to comfortably move and stretch.

Iliya envied the outfit from the soft cotton all the way to the shining silver belts and bangles on her wrist.

Even the translucent, silver shawl draping over her shoulders and offering a beautiful contrast to both her skin and the outfit.

"The crowd is bigger than I remember," Iliya answered, smiling. "It took me a moment to find you."

Qudja laughed, gesturing for her to follow as they stepped out onto one of the many docks.

There were eight in total, each reaching out in a different direction to allow for the most space. At one point in time, there were four, but Iliya remembered the council meeting where a nobleman convinced her cousin there should be more.

"I don't think I ever caught your name," Qudja said, eyes wandering over Iliya's small frame.

She felt the heat of embarrassment rising to her cheeks. "Iliya," she offered, extending her hand.

Qudja held it graciously for a few seconds before her fingers slipped away, her touch ghostly.

"So what brings you to Chiori?" Iliya asked, tailing her. Her eyes focused on the thick, black hair braided and woven together. Both strands were tightly pinned against the back of her head, this time without a hair out of place. "Are you here for the Festival?"

"In a manner of speaking," she replied. "My father wished me to see how the treaties were developing, though I have a feeling I'll be here some time longer until he sends for me."

Iliya knew what Qudja was talking about.

The discussions about travel to and from each continent had been gaining traction for the last several moons. Chiori Faire was a large island with claims to two much smaller land masses. The larger of the two was Torchkye, the land a more neutral territory that bridged the continents together.

When her mother began her reign of Chiori Faire, Destry made it her life's mission to form alliances and treaties with every major continent. This meant building large crystalline bridges across the Yinae and Sarai oceans.

Iliya spent most of her time in the months leading up Solstice watching as Rhydian paced, calculating a plan to aid in the construction while researching a way to harness the power of the Aphyre.

Toskapel's intentions were seldom mentioned in the upcoming developments.

"Your father?" Iliya asked, hoping to gain more of a foothold in the situation.

Qudja giggled quietly and scratched the back of her neck. "He's the Chieftain of the Wildlands," she explained. "The Lord of Zavere is considering Destry's treaty, but my Father has concerns. Since the bridge to Toskapel would be built leading to the Wildlands, he was given authority on the matter."

She had no idea the bridge to Toskapel was a current consideration. Iliya knew the Nobles were attempting to coerce Solraidas into aligning with them, but not the North.

For as much as she wanted to stay out of politics, they certainly seemed to find her.

"Oh," Iliya mumbled. "What worries him?"

"Solraidas lack of cooperation," she answered, a small grimace pulling at her lips. "My father only wants to sign the treaty if they do as well."

Iliya's lips pursed. "The Fae do have a way of monopolizing contracts..." she sighed, trying not to reveal too much. If there was anything Rhydian hammered into her, it was how you never knew anyone until it was too late. "They've been negotiating for months, delaying things with ridiculous demands they know no country is going to consider. I've half a mind to say they're dragging things out on purpose."

"Is that so?" A voice called from behind.

The smug tone and dark chuckle had Iliya's stomach plummeting for her pelvis, ice coating her veins.

Qudja's fingers traced the inside of her wrist, trying to anchor her the best she could, but Iliya was already spinning to face the egotistical Fae sewage rat.

Only to see Lord Turrian leaning against a cement pyre with his arms crossed. "Princess," he purred. "How are you this fine evening?"

Iliya couldn't find the humanity she desperately searched for in his dark features, eyes lined only with twisted rage. She'd have to deal with him herself, she realized.

Sorein was gone, his tall frame nowhere in sight.

And the only person she could count on was herself.