The streets of Valmira's city pulsed with life, a rhythm of polished carriages, bright market stalls, and artisans hawking their craft beneath fluttering banners.
Valmira swept Arasha along like a force of nature, her long gown trailing behind her, her voice brisk but warm as she directed attendants to fetch bolts of fabric and cases of jewels.
"Something with gold threading to catch those amber eyes," Valmira declared, her finger landing on a gown of deep emerald silk. "And a hair ornament—black pearls set against silver. It will gleam against that raven hair of yours."
Arasha sighed, though there was a curve of amusement on her lips. "You should look for something, too. A gown, an accessory. We've been darting from stall to stall only for me."
Valmira waved a hand, dismissing the thought with practiced grace. "Nonsense. I have more gowns than I could ever wear. And I am far too old to bother with such things anymore. This day is yours, child, not mine."
Still, Arasha humored her, slipping into gowns that shimmered like twilight or clung with battle-ready elegance.
Each time, Valmira clapped her hands and tilted her head with satisfaction, as if envisioning her niece standing at the altar.
By afternoon, they ducked into a cafe nestled beneath a vine-covered archway. The scent of butter and sugar wafted warmly through the air.
"This," Valmira announced, "is the best café in the city. Their soufflé cheesecake is a masterpiece. I won't let you leave without trying it."
Arasha raised a brow but followed her aunt inside. A slice was placed before her, golden and trembling softly, dusted with powdered sugar.
She took a bite, and the cake nearly melted on her tongue, light as air. Her amber eyes widened in surprise.
"…It's good," she admitted, though her lips curved faintly. "But I think I still prefer stews or roasted meat."
Valmira laughed, the sound ringing through the cafe. "Savory to the bone, my dear. But you'll humor me for a slice, won't you?"
Arasha smiled, softer this time, and nodded. When the bill came, she ordered another slice wrapped to take back.
"For Kane," she explained. "He'll enjoy this more than I do. His sweet tooth is… persistent."
Valmira chuckled knowingly but said nothing.
Once rested, they spent the rest of the day weaving through stalls and artisan shops again, but this time, the shopping was entirely Arasha's doing.
She paused before trinkets, crafts, and goods unique to the city, asking merchants about local specialties.
"For Leta," she murmured, selecting a finely wrought comb inlaid with mother-of-pearl. "She'll complain if she feels left out."
"For Garran," she chose a carved pipe of polished bone, one etched with mountain runes. "Something to ease his endless worries."
"For Roen, the alchemist," came a delicate box of rare herbs sealed in glass vials. "He'll find use for these."
A ledger for John, bound in leather with silver clasps—"he'll need more pages for his meticulous notes."
A set of enchanted ink for Rewald, shimmering in shades of violet and blue.
A crystal pendant for Linalee, "to remind her she's not alone with the burdens she carries."
A sword-belt of masterful craftsmanship for King Alight, discreetly commissioned.
And for the rest of the Scion Hold, bolts of cloth, spices, and smaller trinkets chosen with thought for each individual, each gift more a reflection of Arasha's memory of their habits and needs than of her own taste.
By the time the sun dipped low, her arms were laden with parcels and packages, the attendants trailing behind like a small caravan.
Valmira, watching quietly, found herself smiling in quiet admiration.
"You think of everyone, even when it should be your day," she said softly.
Arasha adjusted a bundle in her arms, a faint grin tugging at her lips. "I owe them all. If not for them, I wouldn't be standing here now."
Valmira shook her head but didn't press. Instead, she looped her arm through Arasha's, guiding her toward the waiting carriage.
"Then let us bring joy back to Scion Hold, one gift at a time."
Arasha chuckled, her heart lighter for the first time since her journey to the shaman.
The carriage rattled softly over cobblestones as the city faded behind them, parcels neatly stacked at their feet.
Arasha sat with her back straight, her amber eyes thoughtful. At last, she turned to her aunt.
"I have to go back to the Scion Hold for now," she said, her voice steady but tinged with a weight of responsibility.
"There are matters I must tie off before I can focus fully on the wedding. Loose ends, decisions only I can make. I don't want distractions when the time comes."
Valmira tilted her head, studying her niece with that knowing gaze. "You wish me to prepare in your absence?"
Arasha nodded, holding her aunt's eyes. "Discreetly. For now, it must remain between us. But when the moment comes, I want everything ready."
Valmira's lips curved in a soft smile as she reached over to clasp Arasha's hand.
"Consider it done. Give me a couple of months, and the preparations will be as good as complete. You may focus on your duties, knowing all else is in my hands."
The tension in Arasha's shoulders eased at those words. She exhaled slowly, grateful.
Then Valmira's tone shifted, lighter, teasing. "Now… when will you propose to Kane?"
Arasha blinked at her, surprised at the suddenness of the question, but then answered with calm resolve, "Tonight."
Valmira chuckled warmly, shaking her head. "Straightforward as ever. And how do you intend to do it, hm? Some flourish? A ring hidden in dessert? Words written in the stars?"
Arasha only looked at her, unflinching, and replied simply, "I'll ask him. Face-to-face."
For a heartbeat, silence lingered, then Valmira laughed again, the sound rich and affectionate.
"Ah, child. So blunt, so practical. You've no romantic sense at all." She tapped Arasha's nose with one finger, earning the faintest flush across her niece's cheeks.
"Leave it to me. I'll arrange dinner in the garden—soft lantern light, music drifting on the air. The setting will do the speaking you cannot."
Arasha allowed herself a small, embarrassed smile. "If you insist, Aunt."
"And wear your indigo starlight gown," Valmira added firmly, as though it were the final word in strategy.
Arasha inclined her head. "Very well."
The carriage soon rolled to a stop at the manor.
Kane stood waiting in the courtyard, tall and composed, but the moment his eyes found Arasha, warmth spread across his face like dawn.
Arasha stepped down swiftly and crossed the distance in three strides, wrapping her arms around him. "See?" she murmured against his shoulder. "I didn't disappear."
Kane laughed, relief mingling with affection in his voice. "I never doubted you."
Valmira's voice floated behind them, tinged with dry humor. "I'll leave the young lovebirds to themselves."
Kane chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet Arasha's eyes. "How was the outing?"
Arasha's smile carried a secret brightness as she shook her head. "I'll tell you all about it at dinner. For now… I have to prepare."
Kane raised an eyebrow at her eagerness—it was not her usual manner—but her gleaming eyes stilled his questions.
Instead, he smiled and bowed his head slightly. "Then I'll look forward to tonight."
As she departed with purposeful steps, Kane lingered in the courtyard, watching her go.
Something in her had shifted—an intensity, a light that stirred both curiosity and anticipation.
For reasons he couldn't yet name, he felt he too should prepare for this dinner with more care than usual.
And so he did.
****
The garden glowed with soft lantern light, golden orbs swaying gently in the evening breeze.
Vines heavy with blossoms draped over the carved archways, their fragrance blending with the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers.
A trio of musicians played softly in the corner, their strings weaving a melody that mingled with the flicker of candles set along the long table.
Valmira surveyed the scene with a discerning eye, her arms folded loosely. Everything was set exactly as she had envisioned—elegant, tender, and undeniably romantic.
Satisfied, she finally turned on her heel and made her way back inside, climbing the winding stairs to her niece's chambers.
She rapped lightly on the door.
"Arasha? May I?"
The door opened, and Valmira froze for a moment, blinking at the sight before her.
Arasha stood in her indigo starlight gown, the fabric shimmering faintly in the lamplight, her long black hair loose around her shoulders, her face utterly bare of paint or adornment.
Valmira clicked her tongue. "No, no, no, this won't do."
Arasha arched a brow. "What won't do? This is comfortable enough."
"Comfortable?" Valmira muttered, sweeping into the room like a queen on a mission.
She clapped her hands sharply, and her personal maid appeared almost instantly at the threshold.
"Silver pins, the crescent comb, and the light touch palette. At once."
"Aunt—" Arasha began, frowning.
Valmira cut her off with a single look, her voice gentle but unyielding.
"This is a special occasion, child. One that requires special attention. You'll not step into that garden half-prepared. Allow me this much."
For a moment, Arasha's lips pressed into a thin line, stubbornness flickering in her amber eyes.
But when she saw the quiet insistence in her aunt's expression, the resistance ebbed away.
With a sigh, she sat herself at the vanity. "Fine. But only because you won't back down."
The maid moved with practiced grace, lifting sections of Arasha's hair, weaving them with delicate precision before fixing them in place with gleaming silver pins shaped like falling stars.
A crescent-shaped comb caught the lamplight, settling into her dark locks as though it belonged there.
A faint dusting of powder softened her features, a whisper of color warming her cheeks and lips. Nothing heavy—just enough to highlight what was already there.
When the final pin slid into place, Valmira leaned back and let out a slow, pleased sigh. "There. Perfect."
Arasha stood, turning slightly to see herself in the mirror.
The gown hugged her form like twilight wrapped in silk, her hair a cascade of black threaded with silver light, her amber eyes luminous against the subtle touch of makeup.
Valmira's expression softened, warmth seeping through her regal composure. "You are beautiful, my dear. Ready to face your… romantic battle."
Arasha chuckled at that, shaking her head. "Battle, hm? Then hopefully Kane will be pleasantly surprised—as I am now, apparently."
"Not surprised," Valmira corrected firmly. "Enchanted. And remember—this isn't transformation, Arasha. This is polish. You've always been beautiful. A little care simply makes the shine impossible to ignore."
For a moment, something unspoken passed between them—gratitude, belonging, and the gentle ache of a bond reforged too late but still deeply cherished.
"Thank you," Arasha said softly.
Valmira reached forward and squeezed her hands. "Go on, then. He's waiting."
And so Arasha left her chambers, each step measured, her heart beating faster with every turn of the hall.
In the garden, Kane was already seated at the table, hands resting against the polished wood.
He had been informed Arasha would be a little late, but the knowledge did nothing to ease the anticipation coiling in his chest.
He looked around at the carefully arranged lights, the quiet music, the floral arch, and though he didn't quite understand why it was all set up so deliberately, he couldn't help the warmth rising in him.
Happily anxious. Tense, but in a way that made him smile to himself.
He knew this night carried something unusual. Something important.
And when the first echo of Arasha's footsteps reached him, Kane straightened in his chair, his heart quickening as though it already knew—something was about to change.