THE SHADOW BOUND CROWN

The market square was unrecognizable from the quiet streets they had traversed earlier. Now, it was a dazzling spectacle of light and movement, the entire space transformed by glowing lanterns strung from every available surface. Swathes of fabric, embroidered with gold and deep indigo hues, draped over wooden stalls, giving them a regal yet inviting charm. The warm glow of torches mixed with the gentle shimmer of hanging fairy lights, casting intricate shadows across the cobblestone paths. A symphony of scents filled the air—spiced meats sizzling on open grills, sweet confections dusted with powdered sugar, and fragrant blooms woven into flower crowns worn by passing revelers.

Aurelia, Lysara, Laurien, and Calla found themselves near the stage, positioned at the very front of the festival, where the grand performances would take place. The stage itself was a marvel, its backdrop painted in elaborate patterns, depicting the legendary tales of the kingdom. Already, musicians had taken their places, their stringed instruments producing a lively melody that set a rhythmic pulse through the crowd.

The festival was a tribute to Ravenshade, the kingdom's founder, and the night promised to retell his legacy in grand fashion. First, the singers took the stage, their voices weaving together to form harmonious ballads of the king who had united the land through wit, strength, and sheer determination.

Aurelia found herself wholly captivated. As the songs unfolded into stories, puppet shows began alongside them, cleverly crafted figures acting out the feats of Ravenshade. With every dramatic moment, Aurelia reacted instinctively, gasping, smiling, or leaning in closer as if afraid to miss a single detail. Lysara, who stood beside her, found herself fascinated not with the performances but with the rare sight of Aurelia utterly lost in the moment.

Without realizing it, Aurelia gripped Lysara's arm, fingers curling around her wrist as another daring tale was sung with fervor. A fire swallower appeared on stage, drawing awed gasps from the crowd as he tilted his head back and sent flames dancing down his throat before extinguishing them effortlessly. Another trickster produced endless scarves from his sleeve, and then an illusionist made objects appear and vanish in a blink. The illusions fascinated Aurelia even more, prompting her grip on Lysara's arm to tighten slightly.

Lysara arched an eyebrow, amused yet slightly exasperated. She knew exactly how the tricks worked. Had she wanted, she could have conjured true magic that would put these small acts to shame. And yet, for the first time, she found herself unwilling to steal attention away from the performance—because Aurelia was happy. She wasn't thinking of royal duties or engagements or the burdens of the crown. She was simply basking in the joy of the moment.

It was an odd feeling, Lysara realized. Caring about someone else's happiness.

Aurelia, in her excitement, barely noticed what she was doing until a familiar warmth spread through her palm. Realizing that she was still holding onto Lysara's arm—and rather tightly at that—she immediately let go as if burned. A flush spread across her cheeks, and she hurriedly turned her attention back to the stage as if nothing had happened.

Laurien, standing beside them, watched with a composed but satisfied expression. It was rare to see his sister so animated, and even rarer still to see her lose herself so completely in something so simple. He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he kept his arms crossed, content to watch her excitement unfold.

As the stories continued, Lysara found herself blushing in an entirely different way. The tales of Ravenshade, her ancestor, were grand and heroic—but also heavily exaggerated. Some of them were true, of course, but others had been retold with such embellishment that they sounded more like myths than history.

At one particular moment, the storyteller described Ravenshade taming a beast twice his size with nothing but a single whispered word and his unwavering stare. Lysara barely contained her reaction, rubbing her temple as if that would ease the secondhand embarrassment.

Aurelia caught her expression and smirked, leaning slightly towards her. "You must be so proud," she teased in a whisper.

Lysara sighed dramatically. "You have no idea."

Aurelia's lips curled, delighted by Lysara's mild suffering. There was something deeply enjoyable about watching her squirm under the weight of her family's inflated legacy. But at the same time, she couldn't deny that there was something admirable about it too.

She had not forgotten about the events earlier during the day and the thought about it still made her blush but for now she chose to enjoy the party and punish the evil pervert who entered rooms without knocking later.

The performances stretched on, each one a dazzling display of the kingdom's history and traditions. And for a little while, Lysara forgot the world outside of this festival. She forgot about the royal expectations that loomed over her, about arranged marriages and duty. She simply allowed herself to be part of something greater, something joyous.