The market hadn't quieted. If anything, it felt fuller. The press of bodies, the ripple of laughter and the clink of coin. I tilted my head, picking up the sound of clapping nearby, rhythmic, excited, layered under the soft flick-flick-flick of something slicing air.
"What's happening over there?" I asked.
Salem leaned close, as always.
"Street performer," she said, voice a smile. "He's juggling fire with actual flames, wrapped around little glass balls. weak mana, but flashy. He's balancing a knife on his nose while doing it."
"A knife?"
"Mhmm. Real one, too. I can see the edge gleaming."
"Impressive," I said with a little grin, picturing it only by her words and the echo of energy on the air.
There was a hat in front of the man — I could hear the faint droppings of coin clinking softly when people dropped in donations. I considered it, but Salem tugged me along before I could.
"Fruit," she said. "You wanted fruit, right?"
We stopped at a stand dripping with sweetness. The vendor's mana shimmered like syrup, every surface buzzing with ripe things. I let my nose guide me, picking a few that were soft-skinned and fragrant: something citrus, something tart, and one that smelled exactly like fresh morning air and honey.
As we walked again, chewing happily, Salem nudged me.
"That rift spell," she said. "The one you opened to stash our prizes earlier."
"Yeah?"
"You ever think about how strong that would be in a fight?"
I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"
"Annabel, you could literally just like, poof. Open a door to a backup arsenal mid-battle. Like, weapon breaks? No problem. Portal. Grab a new one. Out of healing potions? Boom. Restock. Instant. You'd be untouchable."
I snorted. "Or very cluttered. Portals i have to hold over long distance with a specific location in mind wont stay stable for long enough."
"I guess i didn't think of it like that. Your potential is still insane though,," she said, almost reverent. "And this is just the start. We haven't even fought the Ætherbound."
We passed under city lights, their heat a warm trickle on my skin — and the day became a blur of silly indulgence. Salem bought us little sugar twists from a cart shaped like a dragon. I made us ride a carousel even though it spun awkwardly and creaked like it hated its own existence.
At one point, I paused mid-laugh.
"Salem," I whispered, "don't freak out, but…"
She tensed instantly.
"…I think we're being followed."
Her mana bristled — defensive.
I pointed.
"That mana signature—there. And that one over there."
A pause. Then…
"Are you kidding me," she muttered.
A flicker of magic told me she'd confirmed it. She groaned.
"William and Fay."
"They followed us?"
"They tailed us."
I laughed. "Think they saw us kiss?"
"They definitely saw you blushing."
"You better shut up!"
Eventually, we confronted them. Or rather, they revealed themselves awkwardly while pretending to browse decorative masks.
William tried to sound casual. Failed.
"So," he said, voice high and innocent. "Nice market day?"
Fay snorted. "You two are adorable. And terrible at hiding it."
"Are you going to tell the others?" I asked, pulse hitching.
Fay's mana softened. "Of course not. Not our story to tell."
"Your secret's safe," William added.
"Besides," Fay continued, "we were rooting for you."
Eventually, they wandered off again — probably off to gossip privately about us, and we found ourselves at a quiet bench tucked between two overflowing planters.
Salem flopped down beside me.
Correction. Not beside.
Against.
She pressed her leg to mine. Her head brushed my shoulder. Her mana looped around mine like a lazy hug.
I didn't mind.
Not even a little.
"I'm happy," I whispered.
"I can feel that," she murmured.
We sat like that for a while, listening to the hum of the city winding down, the fading laughter, the flicker of soft fire mana from lanterns.
Then I turned slightly toward her.
"But Salem…"
Her aura flickered.
"I can't have you risking your life for me."
She said nothing.
"I mean it," I pressed. "You're reckless when it comes to me. I know it. You know it. And I'm not saying don't care, I love that you care. I just… I want you to care about yourself just as much. Okay? Please?"
Her mana shifted, hesitant. Coiled.
And then…
A slow exhale.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'll try."
"No," I said, nudging her lightly. "Promise."
Another pause.
"…I promise."
I reached for her hand.
And this time, she let me find it, fingers threading through mine in the still-warm dusk.
We sat like that, quiet and full — until I felt her move again.
Not shifting. Not adjusting.
Leaning in.
Closer.
I stiffened slightly as her head dipped, and then…
"Ow!" I hissed, though it didn't actually hurt.
She'd bitten me.
Gently. Just at the slope of my shoulder, through the thin fabric of my shirt. Not hard enough to bruise. just enough to make her point.
"Salem," I said.
Her voice came low, dramatic, practically trembling with mock tragedy.
"This is torture," she growled softly. "Cruelty. You tell a demon she can't kiss you, and then you go around being this warm and soft and smell like stars and make me hold your hand and laugh and talk about feelings? I've known nothing but suffering, Annabel."
I blinked.
Then I laughed. "Don't you dare make me feel bad for you."
Her mana shivered with laughter, wrapped around me like shadow and silk.
"I'm just saying," she whispered. "This is a war crime. A very personal one."
"Then file a complaint with the Empress of No Kisses."
"I am going to."
She bit me again, even softer this time. Just enough to make my shoulders scrunch up and my breath catch.
"Stop it!" I laughed. "You're being insane."
"Blame yourself," she said flatly. "You made me fall in love."
We walked hand in hand through the winding roads back toward the castle.
Her fingers were warm. Her mana hummed. Soft, strong, content.
Mine probably did the same. I was… happy.
Until we heard them.
"Look at this," a voice slurred behind us. "Two girls walking hand in hand like a couple of lesbian whores."
Salem's mana spiked like a whip, a flash of heat flaring across my senses.
I squeezed her hand.
"Just keep walking," I murmured. "They're drunk. Not worth it."
But one of them stepped in front of us, reeking of sour alcohol and cocky pride.
"You're that blind prodigy, yeah?" His mana was erratic. Flickering, thin. Low. "How old are you? Thirteen? Thought you'd look younger. You practically look like a grown woman already."
Salem's grip turned to iron. She didn't say anything, but I could feel the shadow forming behind her. a low rumble under her skin.
"Salem," I said gently. "Don't. They're not worth the blood. They are still citizens."
She grit her teeth. I could feel it. Even in silence.
The man snorted. "Yeah, that's right. Keep your mutt in line, little miss knight."
They moved to shove me.
And that's when I opened the portal.
"Inversion Step."
A slice of magic tore beneath their feet — pure spatial fold, shaped and sharp. I twisted space with a flick of mana and sent them hurtling ten feet into the air — and straight down again.
Their yelps cracked the night air.
Thud.
Crash.
A grunt. And a crack.
We kept walking.
Salem exhaled a long breath, trying to calm the boiling pulse of her aura.
"You said not to kill them?" she muttered.
I smiled faintly. "Broken bones doesn't mean dead, my love."
She snorted, biting back a laugh.
The warmth of the castle hit me before the gate did, all familiar mana patterns clustered inside.
We were back.