For her first day off, Claire took up Joan's offer to show her around the capital. Her cousin had a late night at work and a late morning, but was over-the-moon with the news of Claire's new work and study arrangement.

It was a warm, sunny afternoon when Joan and Claire took a walk to the outskirts of the city. Joan was talking nonstop about the wonderful places in Erfurt, and her experiences with them. Claire nodded along, her eyes drinking in the green environment around her as they walked on the river bank. Joan was taking her to a place called 'Lovebird Bridge,' which, according to her, was a wonderful place at which to relax.

They followed the river and soon, a marvelous sight did come into view up ahead. Claire noticed the wide, arched, wooden bridge first, with lanterns at each post. Gardens surrounded the bridge and waters, with gazebos and arbour benches situated within.

"See how popular this place is?" Joan twittered as they approached the bridge. Couples stood together on the bridge and within the gazebos, small children playing by the ponds formed alongside the river.

On either side of the bridge was a pond alongside the river, separated and besieged by stone. Stone pathways led to the well-spaced gazebos in between few short trees, shrubs and flowers. From the neatness and deliberate organization of the gardens, Claire supposed there must have been people assigned to look after them.

The Lovebird Bridge thus led from one garden into another on either side of the river.

A part from the murmur of the river, the tunes of birds, the chirrup of insects and chatter of children filled the air.

"Wow," Claire breathed, twirling in one spot on the bridge to appreciate each corner of beauty.

"They named it Lovebird Bridge but rarely do you get to see lovebirds around here," Joan remarked. "All you see is the human kind of lovebirds since it's a popular spot for couples. I have a friend who met her lover on this very bridge, you know. They say that lovers who have their first meeting here have an everlasting love and the strongest relationship. Not even death can break it a part."

"Do you believe that?" Claire asked, intrigued by the concept.

Joan shrugged. "Well, that friend of mine—"

"Joan?"

The feminine voice caused both of them to turn. Watching them was a woman with freckled skin and a mob cap, her arms linked with a thin, curly-haired man.

Joan's face lit up when she saw them. "Ellie! Ernest!" She trotted over and hugged both of them, pecking the woman's cheeks. "What are you two doing here?"

"It's been a year since we met right here on this bridge," the woman named Ellie replied. "We decided to visit and commemorate." She and Ernest shared a loving gaze.

Joan pouted. "Isn't that sweet? You two are the ultimate lovebirds indeed, coming all the way from the western region."

As Claire stood there gazing at the couple, Joan pulled her closer to introduce her. "This is my cousin, Claire. Claire, this is my friend Ellie, whom I was just telling you about. That's Ernest, her betrothed."

Claire smiled brightly, taking turns to shake their hands. "Nice to meet you both!"

"Claire is new to Erfurt, so I'm showing her around," Joan explained. "The Lovebird Bridge had to be among the first places I took her."

"Oh?" Ellie said and gazed curiously at Claire. "Are you looking for love?"

Alarmed, Claire dissented with a vigorous shake of her head. "Oh, no! It's not like that at all."

Ellie hummed, nodding in understanding. "Well, even if you're not looking for it, it can still find you." She smiled tenderly at Ernest. "Just as how it happened with us."

"Best thing that ever happened to me," Ernest said, holding Ellie's hand.

A hole burrowed within Claire, filling with jealousy at the sight of their overflowing affection for each other. She remembered a time when she was in Ellie's shoes—hearts in her eyes for the one she loved, euphoric at even the slightest touch from him. It was a time when everything seemed rosy and perfect.

Instead of reflecting on it with fondness, all she felt was heartache. She could only pray that Ellie and Ernest's relationship did attain the seemingly magical blessings the Lovebird Bridge was said to give.

A bout of excited screams snapped her out of her reverie, directing her attention to the pond on her left. Children pointed and chatted excitedly at tiny creatures hopping in and out of the pond. Cognisant of what these creatures were, Claire was infected by the excitement.

"Are those brulta?" she asked.

"Yes. They're quite common here, actua—"

Claire didn't wait for Joan to complete her sentence, rushing to get off the bridge.

"Wait, Claire! You can't go off on your own!" Joan called.

"I'll be right by the pond!" Claire announced giddily, prancing into the garden.

She joined the children by the pond, squatting down and eagerly watching the pond surface. Water lilies floated about while a few insects hopped and flew along the surface.

Several seconds later, a flash of gold jumped up from the water, making Claire and the children gasp. It had the body of a fish, with bulging red eyes. Sprouting beneath it were four frog-like legs, the front much shorter and thinner than the hind.

Two more jumped up, their gold scales glinting in the sunlight. They dove back under in succession with a plop. The three brulta resurfaced, their upper fish bodies above the surface. They glided along the water surface in dance patterns, their fins creating little ripples.

The children tossed what looked like grasshoppers onto the pond, and the brulta gobbled them up immediately.

"Can I feed them too?" Claire asked the children with a grin.

One of the boys happily gave her his cone-shaped paper bag. Inside were grasshoppers, crickets and dragonflies plucked of their wings and legs, most of them still alive. Claire fished out some and tossed to the brulta, which were happy to accept the offering.

The children giggled. They recounted how they had caught the insects and from where. Claire listened intently, though some of their words were distorted and unintelligible for four and five-year-olds. She interacted with them, informing them of easier insects to catch if they wanted to feed the brulta.

One of the girls was in the middle of explaining how she tried and failed to catch a brulta when Claire spotted someone familiar walking towards the pond. The bronze armour on his shoulders and arms, coupled with his black uniform, gave away his title to everyone else. But Claire recognized him by his build and form, even from a distance. She recognised him by name.

Today, he wasn't alone. Beside him was a familiar, beautiful woman, dressed to match his title.

Odelia.

Instinctively, Claire rose from the pond and turned away, darting further into the garden to escape them. Her heart thumped fast and hard as she hid behind a small tree surrounded by shrubs near a gazebo.

"Why is he there?" She thought. "Why is he there with her?"

She had been doing fine. Why did they have to show up in front of her together?

With her hand against the trunk of the tree, she leaned forward to steal a glance. Marcus and Odelia had reached the pond, seemingly talking to the children. She drew back before she was spotted, taking deep breaths to calm herself. When she looked again, they weren't by the pond anymore.

It wouldn't be wise for her to stay around if they were present, she mused. It would be a disaster if she ran into Marcus, and to prevent that, she had to leave right away.

Cautiously, she stepped out from behind the tree, seeing no sign of the couple. She heaved a sigh of relief. Only, she had relaxed too soon.

"Claire?"

Startled, she gasped and whirled to find Marcus standing there.

The uncertainty on his face morphed into a scowl. "It is you. I can't believe this. So you're spying on me now."

She was momentarily dumbfounded by the shock of being discovered, but she quickly found her voice. "I wasn't spying on you."

"I saw you peeping from behind this tree," Marcus said, glowering at her. "I thought it was you, but I had to make sure. And I was right."

Claire winced at the bitterness in his tone. She managed only to repeat herself. "I wasn't spying on you."

"You have the nerve to deny it?"

Claire shook her head, seeking a way to explain herself. "It wasn't my intention to..."

Her words trailed off when Odelia made an appearance, stepping up beside Marcus. Her hair and skin had a heavenly glow in the sunlight, her lavender gown with leaf and flower embroidery fitting perfectly with the gardens around them. She was such an effortless beauty; Claire couldn't help but feel intimidated.

"Is this her?" Odelia asked in a flat tone, her eyes assessing Claire's form. Claire lowered her gaze, bowing before her.

"Yes, this is Claire," Marcus affirmed begrudgingly. His tone captured the embarrassment he felt at uttering her name—as though it was a chaff too dirty to be spoken by him.

Odelia clicked her tongue, her voice dripping with distaste. "So plain. So dull. Completely unremarkable. What is a low-life like you doing following around a knight?"

Claire bit her lip, her fingers interlocking in a nervous twiddle. She recalled how Lady Lynette's temper had flared dangerously because a servant talked back to her, and so shrunk in fear at what Odelia might do if Claire said anything against her—argued with her.

"I thought I told you to stay away from me." It was Marcus who spoke. "So why are you in front of me again?"

Claire looked up at him. "I did stay away."

"What are you saying? You're right here, aren't you?"

Odelia held onto his arm, slipping her own around it in a gentle but firm hold. She then turned to Claire, her light green eyes glimmering with malice.

"Listen here. Claire, is it? I am the woman Marcus is courting. Do you know what that means? It means anything and everything you had with him is over. Know that he doesn't wish to see you again. Nay, that you shouldn't even be looking at him. Do you understand that?"

It seemed Odelia didn't remember her from Governor Grayson's manor, and Claire didn't blame her. There was nothing remarkable about people like her. Anyone not dressed in silk, velvet or jotegra was just another faceless, nameless nobody.

"I understand," Claire mumbled.

"Do you?" Marcus pressed, glaring at her. "Do you, really? This wouldn't be the first time I've tried to make it clear to you where you stand."

Odelia sighed. "Well, she is simple-minded after all. You cannot expect someone illiterate to easily understand these things."

The remark astonished Claire. Odelia couldn't have possibly known about her illiteracy unless Marcus told her. Claire looked at him in disbelief. How much had he told Odelia about her?

"You need to know your place, runt," Odelia continued, her tongue relentlessly venomous. "If you think that by following him around, you'll somehow get him back, you're wrong. He's so far above you while you are below the roots. Stop that wishful thinking."

Instead of hurting her, Odelia's words angered Claire. It was only their first conversation, and she was already looking down on her; acting as though she knew everything about her.

Like she had the right to say those things.

"I wasn't following him," Claire averred, her voice steady and louder.

Both of them were taken aback by her sudden boldness, their eyes widening in surprise.

"The city might be vast, but one way or another, we could still run into each other," Claire added, addressing Marcus with a direct gaze. "Today, I'm here because I'm taking a stroll with my cousin. Not because of you."

Marcus' eyes flashed with irritation and challenge, his jaw clenching. "Oh, really? Then where is she—your cousin?"

"She's—" Claire looked towards the bridge, but no one was standing there.

Her stomach dropped, a heavy sense of trepidation settling in her gut.

"Where?" Marcus taunted, his lips curving up in a cruel smirk. "Did you lose her? That is, if she was even with you in the first place."

"She was," Claire insisted, her anger overwriting the anxiety and panic at potentially losing Joan. "And I didn't lose her!"

"Stop lying, Claire."

"I'm not lying." Claire's tears were dangerously near from the frustration. But she wouldn't let them watch her break. She couldn't give them the satisfaction of being right when all she wished was to prove them irrevocably wrong.

"I did come with her, and I know where she is." The second lie was wobbly in her throat, but she had to cement it. In a burst of thoughtless impulsion, she pointed in a random direction. "She's that way."

Marcus and Odeila looked where she pointed.

Marcus lifted an eyebrow. "The fields?"

Claire cocked her head in the direction she had pointed. It was away from the river, far in the distance after the gardens. A slightly raised meadow stretched beyond, with a few scattered trees on top of the slope. It looked beautiful, but awfully desolate.

She swallowed. "Yes," she affirmed, her tongue running before her mind could dwell on the remoteness of the fields.

Amused, Marcus snickered. "Do you even know where you're going?"

His mockery only flared up her fury and determination to prove him wrong. "I do! Of course, I do!" she declared, squaring her shoulders. "My cousin is over there waiting for me, so I should get going."

"Go, then," Odelia urged, her tone impassive. She rested her head on Marcus' shoulder and shot her a cold gaze. "We don't want you here, anyway."

Claire looked between the two of them. She, too, wished to be as far away from them as possible. Thus, she turned on her heel. Gathering her confidence and pride, she marched off into the unknown.

Author's chatter:

My my, my little wanderer has a knack for being a damsel in distress, doesn't she?

Will she be able to get herself out of this mess, or will someone😉 rescue her?

I had at first wanted to write this story in third person omniscient, but I soon realized it would be difficult to pull off with the whole mistaken identity situation, so I settled for third person limited. Only to discover that that isn't a walk in the park either💀. If you've got any tips on how to improve the third person narrative, I am all ears.