The afternoon sun painted Velastra in shades of gold as the city came alive for the midsummer fair. Colorful banners stretched across the streets, and performers juggled, sang, and danced in every square. Children darted between stalls, their laughter mixing with the clamor of merchants calling out their wares.
Lyanna pulled Eryndor through the crowd, her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. "Come on," she said, smiling. "You can't visit Velastra and miss the fair."
"I didn't realize heirs of powerful houses wandered festivals like common folk," Eryndor teased.
"And I didn't realize you'd be so difficult to drag along." Her eyes sparkled, daring him to argue.
He chuckled under his breath but let her lead. For once, he didn't feel the weight of eyes judging his every move. Instead, he blended into the crowd, another face among the noise and laughter.
They stopped at a booth where painted rings were tossed onto poles for prizes. Lyanna nudged him forward. "Try it."
Eryndor eyed the simple game. "This hardly seems—"
"Scared you'll lose?"
His smirk returned instantly. "Scared? Hardly." He flicked the rings one after another, each landing neatly onto the poles with precise arcs. Years of martial control made it effortless.
The booth owner blinked. "Well… that's a first." He handed Eryndor a small prize—an amulet shaped like a feather, painted silver.
Eryndor turned it over in his hand, then without hesitation, held it out to Lyanna. "This suits you better."
Her lips parted slightly, then softened into a quiet smile as she accepted it. "Smooth," she said, fastening it around her neck.
For a while, they wandered the fair like that—laughing at bad performances, sampling food that left sugar on their fingers, watching the sun dip lower over the rooftops. Eryndor almost forgot the heaviness of his name, his house, his father's cold warning.
Almost.
Because then he saw him.
The cloaked figure.
Standing at the far end of the street, half-hidden by the glow of lanterns. This time, he didn't vanish. He watched openly, his gaze fixed sharp as a blade on Eryndor.
The laughter in Eryndor's chest stilled. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tightening subtly beneath his coat.
Lyanna noticed. "What is it?"
He didn't look at her, his attention locked on the figure. "We're being followed."
The cloaked man tilted his head slightly, as though acknowledging he'd been caught. Then, without a word, he turned and slipped into the darker alleys beyond the fair.
Eryndor exhaled slowly. "Stay close."
Lyanna's smile was gone now, her hand brushing the feather amulet at her throat. "Do you think he's after you?"
Eryndor's smirk returned, sharp but cold this time. "No doubt about it." He stepped forward into the shadows. "And I plan to find out why."