Floor 1: Chapter Thirteen - Ghostlights

The door opened with a gust of cool air.

“Remy…,” Eshlyn called softly, the scent of steeped coffee-beans drifting in beside her. “Time to wake up.”

Her much-too-sweet voice prompted a swift groan as I burrowed deeper into the absurdly soft pillow of her spare-room bed, dragging the silk sheet higher over my face like a barrier against reality.

“Looks like you slept well,” she muttered, summoning another pinch of consciousness from me.

My sleep-worn pupils could vaguely identify her familiar silhouette framed by violet robes in the low wash of sunlight through the thin sheets. The mattress dipped as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Five more minutes,” I muttered in a grumble.

“You said that yesterday,” she replied softly. “And the day before… Nevertheless, Dent is waiting downstairs.”

One of my eyes cracked open. “Gods, how early is it?”

“Early,” she said in a tone that was way too cheerful. “Like always.”

Another groan pulled the grogginess from my voice. I rolled over just enough to glance at her, realizing my hair must be even more disheveled than usual. “...You’re cruel… ”

She smiled. “And you're a bucket of sunshine… at least I brought coffee.”

That got me sitting up, barely shoving the blanket past my chest as I slumped against the headboard like a dying houseplant. “Fine… I take it back.”

Eshlyn chuckled a bit as she held out the mug. I reached for it, only for her to pull it back slightly. Her hair fell like velvet around her face in a way that said she already brushed it.

“Nope. You know the drill.”

Another pitiful groan left my lips before I focused a bit, allowing a translucent hand to flicker to life and take the mug delicately from her grip before guiding the drink close enough to sip.

The sweet, delicate heat was almost enough to make me lose focus. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t coffee-stain your sheets again.”

“Nonsense. You are improving quite well,” she motioned to me before tossing something in the air, aimed in a high arc away from the bed.

I managed to catch it with a second glassy hand, just above the ground.

An apple.

I quickly cradled it beside me. “I know all your tricks.”

“Very good,” she said approvingly.

“You’re going to have to admit it one of these days…“ I blinked at her over the rim of the mug.

She paused, still staring at me from the side of the bed. “Admit to what?”

“...That you enjoy making me suffer.” I shot back at her with a glare. Half serious, half playful.

She leaned in, grabbing my coffee before taking a sip for herself. “If that were the case, I’d make Dent wake you up every morning.”

“You say that…” I let the mug slip into her graceful hands. “...Like each of you don’t have your own unique brand of torture.”

She rose then, sipping before moving to draw the curtains back. Low morning light flaring gently over the room. The clean hardwood flooring. The carved furniture. The white linens adorning the mattress. The room was elegant. Controlled. A world that shimmered far too brightly for someone like me.

“Will you wear the necklace tonight?” she asked, before placing the cup on the adjacent nightstand and sliding onto the bedside once more.

My eyes dropped to the open wardrobe that rested on the other side of the room. It housed most of my belongings, the necklace too. She ended up making me keep it after that night. The night Val and I kissed…however drunkenly.

I took a bite of the apple before answering. “‘You know I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

“You’re beautiful, Remy,” she cut in as if knowing what I was going to say. “You deserve to be seen.”

I hesitated in contemplation. If she knew me at all, she’d know that's not true. I guess it's nice to hear, anyway. The Watch hasn't bothered me after that first interrogation, so maybe I could afford to be less paranoid. All in all, I didn’t want to. I don’t enjoy flashy jewelry like her, but that look in her eye was too hopeful to deny.

“Fine... But I’m wearing the black dress.”

Eshlyn turned to me with a grin. “Perfect. I love that dress.”

“It’s the most practical and it has a hood,” I responded, trying to hide the light embarrassment that flushed through me.

She raised a brow as if to mock me. “Oh yes, the hood is wonderful, but maybe leave the dagger holsters behind?”

My eyes almost rolled out of their sockets. “You know I’m going to bring them.”

She sighed before fully lying on the bed, one hand under her head. “You can carry a rat to water, but you can't make them drink.”

I couldn't help but give her a flat look before copying her posture. “You’re such a lapdog.” She was beautiful in the light. Not a single flaw. Perfect, like everything else about her. Annoying so.

We both stared for a second before failing in our attempts to keep a straight face. Giggling lightly.

Then, just for a moment, she paused. Close again. Easily within reach. Eyes drifting.

A beat of silence entered the room. The kind that hung long enough to become a question.

Her hand lifted to brush mine, so I took it, clasping our fingers together before she shifted forward. Her gaze always scrambled something in me, part sorrow, part joy, like I was mourning something I hadn’t lost yet.

I could’ve closed the distance. Her eyes told me she was waiting for it, for me…

…But I didn’t.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew it’d be a mistake. Like if I held something that soft… I’d break it. Inevitably hurt them somehow, then myself.

So instead, I reached to cradle her chin and pressed my lips to her cheek, barely more than a breath before resting my forehead against hers.

She didn’t pull away, just gave me that same, unreadable smile.

“Dent’s downstairs, probably halfway through a pastry,” she said after a pause, stepping back onto the floor.

“He likes those things way too much,” I muttered, swinging my legs out from under the sheets and rubbing my eyes.

“Hurry up or he’ll get going without you… ” she added, vanishing toward the hallway with the mug in hand.

I groaned once more, already focused on scribing my finger on the translucent film of aetherial glass I’d conjured. Focusing my intention toward Dent.

“Down in Five. Grabbing an Apple For You.”

---

                                                                                 ...

 

I found Dent in a crooked side alley a few streets down from Eshlyn’s suite, leaning against a fancy brick wall like he owned it. He had a suspicious amount of pastry crumbs on his beard and chest, but I didn’t mention it.

His head cocked to one side when he saw me. “I thought you were bringing me an apple.”

That's when I tossed him the half-eaten one still resting in my conjured hand. Which he caught before shaking his head with a slight grin. “Aw, come on. For real?”

“I had to do something to keep you from running off without me,” I muttered, trying to conceal the contempt in my voice.

He looked at me in amusement before taking a few bites anyway, then stepped forward to offer a one-armed hug. “You really are feral in the morning.”

“And yet you insist on bothering me.” I retorted.

He just about finished the apple in a couple of bites before replying through a mouthful, “At least Eshlyn’s willing to wake you up. I wouldn’t want that job for all the pastries in the tower.”

“Very funny, and here I thought you’d already eaten them all.”

Dent just grinned as he threw the apple core an impressive distance, far enough away for me to lose sight of it.

“The stuck-up classy folk out here just love finding stray apple cores in their streets,” I muttered sarcastically, amused at the thought of it hitting an unsuspecting noble.

He wasted no time before breaking out into a light jog ahead of me, “Better get going then.”

“Fair point,” I chuckled before catching up, boots tapping rhythm into the quiet morning streets.

The western district was still stretching awake, carts rolling out, shopkeepers sweeping doorsteps, glowstones fading as warm sunlight filtered in. It was almost peaceful, if not for the subtle burn in my calves and the way the air tasted faintly like a sap-drenched breakfast.

Our breaths fogged lightly in the damp air. Dent always kept a pace slightly ahead of me, in a way that I could keep up but would always remain slightly behind. Not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to make my thighs ache and my breath heavy.

“I swear Val’s trying to kill me in these training sessions,” I muttered after a few blocks, shaking out my arms. “My shoulders feel like they might fall off.”

Dent didn’t even sound winded. “I heard him say you throw yourself into every swing like you’re hacking into a tree.”

Embarrassment seeped into my steps as exertion breathed into every word. “He didn’t say that… Did he say that?”

“Sure did,” he responded bluntly.

I gave him a look, rolling my eyes in a sarcastic attempt to hide the humiliation of them critiquing my training. “You two must be thinking about me all hours of the day...”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he snorted. “It’s only because you’re all heavy sighs and drama.”

We curved around the edge of the ivy-wrapped archive loop, hopping over a shallow puddle. I landed a little hard on my heel, wincing as a brief pulse of soreness shot through my ankle. My calves burned enough to make faking an injury sound tempting. At least then I could enjoy my morning without all the complexity and soreness.

A few beats passed in comfortable silence before I spoke up again, “Alright, don’t laugh, but I need to level with you about something.”

Dent raised a brow without breaking stride. “Who died?”

“You will if you laugh at me,” I almost thought about pushing him over.

He chuckled. “Fair. What’s up?”

“It’s about Eshlyn,” I let out after a pause, half-panting.

“Uh oh,” he replied, then nodded. “What’s happening with lover-girl?”

“Well, not much, but… that’s kind of the problem.”

Dent shot me a look. “Honeymoon phase over already?

I sighed. “Oh, please, there was no phase. We haven’t even kissed.”

Dent almost tripped, “Damn… for real? You’ve been staying at her place this whole time without a single smooch?”

The flush in my face became apparent. “Yeah, I mean… not really. Not like… with Val.”

I tried to focus on the rhythm of my feet on stone as we rounded the next bend and jogged past a stretch of low-planed greenhouses just starting to stir with morning light. Telling me we were finally getting close to the conservatory.

“Okay,” he said blankly. “So do it.”

I breathed out a hard exhale, “Wow. World-class advice, Dent. I’ll just do that.”

“What’s the issue?” His face looked authentically puzzled.

I tried to ignore the growing pain in my side before breathing, “I just don’t get it. She’s beautiful, kind, powerful and so fucking rich. Seriously, how does someone even get that rich?”

A beat of silence passes before he responds plainly. “I’m still failing to see the problem.”

A sigh heaved through my exertion. “The problem is, I think she shouldn’t be with me. Like, what could I possibly offer her that she doesn’t already have?”

“...Maybe a kiss.” He responded in a mocking tone.

I shot him a sideways glance. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.” He chuckled lightly.

I tried to focus on my breathing, but the stitch building in my side made it harder with each step. Dent, of course, looked like he had barely warmed up.

“Have you ever thought that maybe she just likes you?”

“Why would she, though? I contribute nothing. I only make her life more difficult. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Sometimes I forget how much of an idiot you can be.”

I pushed him on the shoulder, just a tad harder than I should have, hoping it’d slow him down a little. “Wow. Thanks.”

“A lovable idiot,” he corrected. “But still.”

My voice rose as if the thread of opening up unraveled the knot holding back my last bit of trepidation. “Gods! Her place is so nice it practically hurts to walk through the doors!”

Dent’s side eye is palpable as I lower my head in a defeated sigh.

“Come on?” He begins talking with his hands mid-stride. “So what, you’re scared because she can afford better floor tiles?”

“I’m scared because I feel like she should find someone better…” I continue after a pause. “...And the nicer she is, the more I feel like a mistake.”

Dent didn’t speak right away. Just kept jogging, jaw tight in thought.

We slowed as the Conservatory came into view ahead, its wooden fence glowing in the morning haze.

My lungs stung in a way that reminded me I’d only had half an apple and the vague promise of coffee this morning, but we let our jog melt into a walk.

“You kissed Val, didn’t you?” Dent asked, gazing forward. “So what’s different?”

“That's not the same. We were drunk… and besides... I’m not even sure he wants anything more.”

“Do you want more?” He asked in subtle honesty.

I bend over to catch my breath for a moment. “Well, yeah… It’s a little confusing to be honest… but yeah… I think so.”

“Did you tell him that?” He stood up beside me.

I blinked. “He knows…”

“...But did you tell him?” Dent pushed.

“He’s the one that stopped… things.” I retorted quickly. My mind racing to remember the taste of his lips. The feel of his muscled chest over mine. The pull of wanting more from him before his longing eyes pulled away, filling me with lost hope and regret.

“Yeah, but… ”

I cut him off, stopping our ongoing walk ever so slightly. “We kissed, and I train with him every day. I’m pretty sure he knows.”

“Remy… ” he let out an exasperated sigh before bending down over me in a way that made me feel small. “But have you told him?”

I tried to make myself taller somehow. “...No… and stop bending over like I’m a dwarf.” My finger found his forehead in a flick that barely phased him.

“Then how would he know?” Dent stood up, raising his voice a little.

“I just think he does.” I locked eyes with him, wiping the sweat off my brow.

“Let me get this straight… You want a relationship,” he began walking again. “But you don’t want to ask for one. Or tell him how you feel.”

I groaned, finally making it to the conservatory entrance. “Yes! Exactly. And if he wanted something, he’d tell me… or ask for it, wouldn’t he?”

He gave me the flattest look imaginable. “You’re going to have to tell him.”

“Ugh…” I groaned, “Why’s it gotta be so difficult? We kissed. We want to, again, or at least I do. It shouldn’t be this complicated.”

“How is it complicated?” Dent asked. “You just told me everything. So tell him what you told me.”

“That’s different. I can’t talk to him like I can with you.”

“Why not?”

I faltered.

“Why is it different?” he asked again.

“...What?”

“What’s different?”

Dent stared at me, not accusing. Just waiting.

I searched for a reason that wouldn’t make me feel bad for saying it… But I couldn’t find one.

“I think I get it, so just tell me which one it is… ” he said in an unrecognizable tone. “Do you not have feelings for me? Or am I not special enough to make you reconsider your life choices?”

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Anxiety building in my chest like I’d returned to Detective Finch's interrogation room.

“No. I just…” I looked away in trepidation. “...I don’t know.”

He sighed before nudging my arm with his shoulder. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

Relief cracked through me like sunlight through a cloud. “Dammit Dent...You really had me going there.”

“Sure, you’ve been through a lot,” he followed up with the tinge of a smile on his lips. “But I’m… I mean… we’re here for you, so just... let them know what I already do.”

We stood in quiet for a breath as the doors of the Conservatory loomed, framed by dew-slick ivy and pale morning light.

A butterfly fluttered past, rising toward the archway like a spell that forgot to land.

“Guess this subject might be a little heavy for a morning jog.” Dent scratched his head when I didn’t say anything.

“You’d make a great counselor.” I finally let out, forcing a chuckle. “Your advice is shit but at least you didn’t laugh at me.”

“Oh, I will, I’m just waiting till you’ve rounded the corner.” He shot back before punishing me playfully and retreating towards the city, “Go get smacked around by sword-boy. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“You’re not funny,” I called over my shoulder before pushing through the conservatory ward, sweat still clinging to my neck.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

Morning light poured into the Conservatory from above, trees sifting its radiance like fingers parting strands of silk. The morning air inside was thick with dew, the faint scent of moss and lake water drifting through rows of trimmed flora. The stillness carried too much weight, like a truth I hadn’t said was waiting to echo the moment I opened my mouth.

Val was already there, standing near the practice ring that Dent carved out, like it was a bush-filled kingdom. His face was calm. Unreadable. Twin blades slung across his shoulders like they barely existed.

His eyes snapped to me the second I became visible through the thick trees, sharp, steady, like he’d been waiting. Not taking his eyes off me as I narrowed the short gap.

I swallowed, scrambling for something clever to say. Something safe. Something that didn’t sound like I’ve been thinking about your lips for two weeks straight.

Just tell him what you told Dent… He won’t know until you tell him.

What would I even say?

“Good morning, let's forget about the murder I committed and just go on a date?” I thought in deprecating sarcasm.

“Hey you insufferable jerk, for some reason I can’t stop thinking about your… perfectly round ass… ”

My mouth opened but closed before any words could come out, so I just marched forward. Feigning indifference.

I tried again, but Val’s voice met me before anything came out. “You’re late.”

“How do you even know?” I retorted arrogantly.

His expression fell, staring back at me as if I said something stupid, “ Well… The sun and trees speak to me in shadows…” His head tilted to mock me further before continuing. “and, you’re always late.”

My eyes narrowed, but I knew this was just Val’s version of good morning. “So you're hearing voices. I knew someone like that. Do they tell you to hurt people as well?”

He bent down to grab the training blades at his feet. “Funny…”
A pause.
“They are now.”

I almost broke into a laugh before turning away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

There was too much silence layered under his sarcasm. Too much I wanted to say. So instead, I just plucked one of the practice blades from the ground before casually passing the brush to enter our self-made practice ring.

“Waiting on you,” I called back.

I peered back just long enough to see Val shake his head, noting the smirk that crossed his face before he followed.

We made our way to its center before I turned to face him, rolling my shoulders and neck in a loose dance. “What’s on the agenda then? Or will you be winging it like usual?” I muttered mockingly.

A quick chuckle of disbelief fell over him as if he was accepting my version of good morning. “Alright then,” he continued. “We’ve covered traditional footwork, telegraphing your attacks, and maintaining an active defense. The last two objectives to cover, before moving onto daggers, boil down to pacing and control. You’re swinging too wild, wasting your strength on needless attacks when you need to be pacing yourself, waiting for an opening.”

My blade steadied in his direction, knowing he’d let the lesson flow out during our usual sparring, “Wow… you almost sound like a genuine instructor.”

His training sword raised to intertwine with mine before he replied. “And here my only student has such little discipline.”

We began with a few easy patterns, initiating the contact that would be our warm-up before easing into the rhythm of a duel that started to feel like habit. For better or worse, I never expected to win out against him. Val was always controlled. Every strike, every step, measured and minimal. He didn’t waste energy, didn’t rush. A direct contrast to the way I’d seen him fight. Ferocious. Unrelenting. Scary. My mind began to drift, thinking about it.

That's when he closed the distance in a quick stride, testing my guard with a series of sharp, shallow swings. The first slapped against my wrist, sending enough stinging pain up my arm to pull my thoughts back to the present. I made it in time to parry the second and the third, but the block left me staggering backward.

“Dammit.” I breathe out before adjusting my grip and resetting.

He circled in answer. “You know what you did wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it,” I swing forward in response, meeting the practice blade above his head.

Back and forth we parry and jab. Circling and swinging before I finally step in to aim for his side. He sidesteps the attempt with infuriating ease, rolling behind me to tap his padded blade against my lower back. Just enough to sting.

Frustration bit at my heels. “Don’t even say it.”

“You’d be long dead if this were real.” He mocked me despite the warning.

My eyes narrowed in challenge, “And you’d already have an arrow through your gut.”

The ongoing weeks of this routine had my muscles sore but familiar. Everyone seemed intent on training me in one way or another. I could feel my footwork becoming cleaner. My posture held longer. Exhaustion always lingered, forever present but distant. Today felt different, though. I could tell my rhythm was off. Every step tinged with hesitation… just enough to miss any opportunity Val presented.

Probably because I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The kiss.
Xolob.
The way he looked at me that night before turning me down.

Mostly because he still hadn’t said anything about it. Any of it. What was he waiting for?

Maybe he regrets it.
Or still thinks I’m a monster.

Should I bring it up? ...How, though?...
“Hey Val, still mad about the murder, or did pulling you over top of me make it all better?”

The image caused me to trip. Faltering on my own breath, just slightly, but enough for Val to notice.

He pressed in, instantly closing the gap with a short parry before snapping his wrist upward. The padding of his blade slapped against my sternum with a sharp thwack.

“You’re distracted,” he said following the contact, voice flat.

I hissed, shaking out my arm before resetting. “I’m keeping up.”

“Hardly.” He paused, staring at me like he could read my mind.

Just say it, say something. Maybe just, “We should talk.”

But I stayed quiet.

Our duels never cease for long. Only breaking when one of us needed to reset, usually me, or offer some advice, always him.

Eventually I threw a wide arc, forcing him back a step, but he pressed in, meeting me in the space my swing had no power. Our blades caught in the inches between us, his weight strained against mine with a firm pressure, holding the closeness. Neither of us could escape without giving the other an opening.

I couldn’t help but drift my focus to the sensation of his hot breath swirling between us in the cool light.

Val’s voice echoed in the stillness. “You’re getting stronger.”

A distasteful thought came rushing into my head. The idea that giving into the pressure would carry him over top of me and ground us in a tangle of limbs.

“So are you,” I breathed out almost embarrassingly.

He blinked. “It’s just weird when you say it.”

I smirked. “What? Don’t like it when I copy you?”

He pushed into me and stepped back, hard enough that I couldn’t take advantage of the movement. “You do that a lot.”

The taste of lost opportunity sat on my lips. Not from the duel, but the insidious idea of letting us fall. “What? Copy you?”

His eyes dropped, like he could see the regret clinging there. “Yes, princess. Exactly that.”

“Oh, shut it.” I scoffed half-jokingly, letting the words fall between us as we drifted back into our half-lazy sparring session.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The breeze came and went as the sun began peering down from high above us, illuminating the vast conservatory in gold.

Our shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths as we made our way back to our packs. I dropped the padded stick, falling dramatically to the ground before rolling over to lie on my back. Eyes closed. Sweat dripping. The air still humming with the last clash of practice blades.

Val took a seat barely a couple of feet away. His presence felt comforting, despite the conflicting thoughts of the morning.

My eyes closed for a beat before I finally turned to face him. Noticing the light silhouetting his dark hair against the low risen sun.

My breath releases in an easy sigh as I turn away. Did that kiss mean anything?

I wanted to ask… say it like it didn’t matter, like I wasn’t bracing for the weight of the answer… But I didn’t, not sure if I ever would. Maybe the lonely life of a coward is what’s right for me. I can call him dumb all day long. Tell him he’s a pain in my ass. Maybe when the time comes, I’ll trade my life for his and even then… I’ll never tell him how I feel. That’s me. Good ol Remy.

How pathetic.

I swallowed the question with the thoughts that followed, swearing I could feel them burn on the way down.

Eventually, I managed, “Are you going to the festival tonight?”

Val didn’t turn to look at me, just stared into the trees above. “I don’t think so. Floor One festivals are kind of creepy.”

I shrugged, trying not to give away just how much I wanted to see him outside of practice. “Oh. Well, if you decide to... I’ll be there.”

I think that got his attention somehow. Anxiety rose in my chest when he glanced down at me, voice dry but full of contempt.“Well, now I’m definitely not going.”

“Good,” I muttered pretentiously, putting on a mask of indifference. “I bet Eshlyn’s a much better dancer than you anyway.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a beat before shifting away. Expression unreadable. He took a few long gulps out of a canteen before handing it off to me. “You? Dancing? There’s no way.”

“What was that?” I asked, trying for a tone that sounded confident instead of desperate. “Afraid you’ll step on my toes?”

His eyes rolled with a slight chuckle. “How’d you ever get so full of yourself?”

I paused, maybe I was about to make a mistake… But I’d made enough of those not to be scared of one more. So I rose. Slowly inching towards him. Up to a half-sitting position, too close for friends. “Is that what you think I am? Overconfident?”

I could never say what really mattered. But a tease?
That, I could do.

His gaze slowly made its way to meet mine, like he saw right through my horribly subtle act but still wanted to play along. “Do you even know how to dance?”

His heat rustled against my skin as I leaned in further, letting my breath brush the sides of his neck.

“Guess you’ll never know,” I whisper, voice low, eyes lingering with a blade’s edge of contempt.

My heart raced at the reaction I pulled from him. His eyes were set on me like a cat eyeing its prey. Wandering. Contemplating. I watched eagerly as they drifted down to my lips. I wouldn’t move. Not until the space between us felt like it might combust.

The intention sat low and warm between us, invisible but unmistakable. Like a furnace waiting for a spark. The excitement of victory soared through my veins when he leaned in, eyes almost closing, but then he turned to kiss my cheek. Lips light and soft against the side of my face. The touch wasn’t electric. Wasn't happy. It only felt like disappointment.

“Maybe I’ll see you,” he voiced on the way back to his original position. Voice quiet.

Damn… I tried to conceal the gut punch of rejection, but it hit like a wave. Even if my dump temptation wasn’t a complete failure, it sure felt like it.

My eyes stayed only a second longer before turning away. Eventually, placing my hand on his dense shoulder to steady myself before standing up and gathering my things.

Not a yes.
Not a no.
Just enough to keep me guessing… Great.

“I'll see you tomorrow then… or tonight… maybe.” I pranced away in a desperate attempt to appear unbothered.

“You did well today.” He yelled from over my shoulder.

Not well enough.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The city stirred and shifted as the day wore on, a subtle buzz growing in the streets. The whole city was setting up. Even the closed shops were decked out with elaborate decor.

I decided to spend most of my time in quiet contemplation, only drifting by Eshlyn’s suite to grab my gear. Then to Selene’s shop to wish her well before finally making my way onto the connected buildings that twisted outward from the town square. I wandered from rooftop to rooftop for a bit before taking up a solitary perch on one of the many corners with a decent view.

Stalls shuttered early, their owners trading goods and coin for strings of paper lanterns and swaths of sheer fabric dyed in pale orange and reds. Ribbons hung like spider silk from wrought-iron posts, catching the breeze in lazy, twisting arcs.

Shop windows were cleared of their normal wares and replaced with memorials, small shrines dedicated to loved ones lost. Tiny charms, hand-written notes, and pressed flowers filled glass cases that lined the streets. Everywhere I looked, it seemed the city had been draped in celebratory mourning.

Even the cobblestones in the town square had been swept clean, and a thin dusting of pale sand coated the main roads, a tradition, Dent told me once, meant to catch the footprints of spirits as they walked among the living. Not sure how he knew that, but I accepted it as truth.

Above it all, the towers of the tall buildings gleamed, their faces hung with long vertical banners. Most were white, stitched with simple sigils representing peace, memory, or hope, but here and there a black banner snapped sharply in the wind, a tribute to those who had no one left to honor them.

Everywhere smelled of burning incense, paper, and fresh-baked bread, the scents twisting together in a strange but unforgettable way. By the afternoon, the city was unrecognizable from its usual self. Softer, contemplative, yet celebratory, like it had shed its armor and dared to drift into peaceful remembrance.

I lay back on the clay shingles of a rooftop, biting into an apple that tasted flatter than the ones Eshlyn always gave me. I found myself questioning how I’d gotten into this position. Why I’d climbed up here in the first place. Why I felt the need to be alone.

Maybe it was the way the festival crept into every corner of the city, dragging memories up like splinters. Or maybe it was just easier to sit above it all. Above the laughter and the expectations, pretending for a bit that I was a cool brush of wind, drifting along without a care.

It’s not like I had anyone to mourn. Not really. No one I hadn’t left behind. No one that I really loved, at least.

I tried not to think about what Dent told me this morning. How my emotions just love to complicate things. How Eshlyn offers everything I need and more, wrapped in a kind of softness I can’t even look at without feeling like I’ll ruin it. Then there’s Val. He promised he would stop pretending like he didn’t care, yet I don’t feel like it was true. Dent told me I just had to tell him. Tell them both how I feel, like somehow that’d make everything better.

All of a sudden, love felt like it could threaten me with purpose.

I can't imagine why they’d like me. The worst part is that they make me want more from my life. Want to hope. To grow. To be happy, loved, and fulfilled. To try. Try for all the things I don’t deserve.

The mild flavor of the apple flowed into me like medicine. The breeze felt like normality. It was easier to stay up here, where the city was just noise and color and not people who might ask something from me. Something I wasn’t sure I could give.

I watched as the palace below transformed in slow motion, beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.

The evening came slower than I wanted, but faster than I was ready for.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

I was already standing in front of the wardrobe by the time the first glowstones flickered to life outside the suite.

The black dress Eshlyn left out hung from the door like a dare, simple, sharp, and unapologetic. Soft fabric fitted snug against my waist, the neckline cut just low enough to hint at elegance, just high enough to avoid fragility. A detachable hood hung loose at the collar, and the hem flared wide enough to move, fight, run if I had to.

It hit with perfect balance, short enough to be bold, long enough to hide my daggers. It was a dress that would draw attention, sure, but it had everything I wanted and never asked for permission. I loved it for that. It felt like the last dress I’d ever need.

The necklace sat on the side table. Green and glinting with silver, like a shard of polished envy.

I stared at it for a long time before picking it up. It felt heavy in my hand. A gift. A burden. A reminder of the life I never had.

With a sigh, I fastened it around my neck, the metal chain brushing cold against my skin. The silver settled like a memorial to secrets I shouldn’t carry.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, not hurried, not impatient.

“You decent?” Dent’s voice drifted through, a thread of amusement tangled in it.

“No,” I called back dryly, slipping my daggers into the hidden slits at my thighs.

The door cracked open anyway, Dent leaning against the frame, an amused glint in his eyes. He was dressed far cleaner than I thought he’d be. Dark trousers, a grey dress shirt with too many buttons left undone.

“I knew you were lying,” he gave me a once-over. “You clean up nicely, and here I was thinking you’d show up looking like a stray cat.”

“I’d scold you for barging in, but it’s not like you’re ever worried about modesty.” I shot back at him, dusting my dress off as if I just put it on. “And thanks, you're looking less feral with each passing day.”

Dent grinned. “Not by choice. Eshlyn threatened me.”

My voiced lased with sarcasm, “Eshlyn? Forcing fancy clothes on you? That doesn’t sound right.”

“She means business when it comes to dressing up.” His half-forced smile almost masked the annoyance in his voice.

“It’s what rich people call ‘casual,’” I reassured him sarcastically, before taking his arm in mine. “Where I would prefer you as my very own, circus bear.”

“Interesting, you brought it up. I’ve yet to have someone ride me in bear form.”

I snorted, shoving him off with a sharp nudge. “Uh-huh, and no one ever will.”

Eshlyn appeared from her room a second later, donning a silver-grey gown that matched both of us. It was fitted close before falling into long straight lines like streaks of starlight. A singular onyx necklace strung across her neck. I glanced at her presence as her eyes flickered from Dent to me and down to the necklace she insisted I wear. Something like pride lit her features as she moved to greet us, hugging Dent before me. I couldn’t help but notice her unusual lack of jewelry.

“No earrings tonight?” I nodded at her.

“We’re going casual, remember? Low profile.” She took my hand in hers.

“Low profile?” Dent repeated, sharing a look of pure disbelief with me.

“Precisely,” she said, eyes bright.

I turned to make a joke, taking in her sincerity in mesmerizing astonishment… but the words caught in my throat. Instead, what came out was raw and unfiltered.

“You are absolutely adorable, Eshlyn.” The words landed softer than I expected. And the way she held my gaze… I forgot all the trepidation I’d spent the day cultivating.

Her lips parted like she might say something, but she didn’t. Her emerald eyes just stared into mine, warm and steady. Her gentle hand found my neck, then my cheek, and I leaned into it without thinking.

That's when Dent coughed from the doorway, breaking whatever might have been building. “Should I just leave y'all to it then? Orrr…?”

“Sorry,” I smiled. Not sure why I was apologizing, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Eshlyn dropped her hand slowly, her fingers brushing my waist in a way that made me consider letting Dent go on without us, but I knew that was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have led Eshlyn on like that to begin with. She deserves better than me toying with her emotions.

Dent cleared his throat again, louder this time. “Seriously, I can just grab some street food. Link back up with y'all later?”

Eshlyn’s eyes rolled as I shook my head. “No, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” She finally spoke.

“You’re our much-needed third wheel.” I chimed in. “ You’re stuck with us till we find you a date.”

He shrugged like I’d just turned away a favor. “Shouldn’t be that hard. I’m the best-looking one here, after all.”

“Oh, please. You may be wearing a shirt with half the buttons undone,” Eshlyn pointed out, grinning as she linked her arm through mine. “... But Remy could steal any one of them from you in a heartbeat.”

“Not true!” I nodded before pulling Dent into our chain of linked arms. “Besides, my only goal is to blend in and leave without someone chasing me.”

Eshlyn stifled a laugh behind her hand, though I caught a sparkle in her eye. Either she thought I was joking or enjoyed the thought that something like that might actually happen to me. Nonetheless, she squeezed my arm gently, anchoring me in place as we walked.

Dent confidently led the way to the door and down the stairs. “Come on, princesses. Festival’s waiting.”

Stepping out into the night, the buzz of the city wrapped around us like a tide. Lanterns drifted and glowed in a thousand soft colors above the streets, music floated from different directions, dancing and laughter spun through the air like it had been bottled and shaken loose just for tonight.

The contagious joy of the crowd seeped into me, and for once, I didn’t fight the pull of it, the noise, the lights, the impossible idea that maybe tonight I could just be happy.