All eyes were on the young woman. Passersby, vendors, revelers… everyone paused for a moment, captivated by her presence. Whispers filled the crowd, some with admiration, others with curiosity, and many with a tender smile, as if simply seeing her was enough to brighten their day.
Vidalia, a little intimidated but touched, let a gentle smile light up her face when she recognized a familiar figure: Fred, the robust butcher, whose stall exuded the enticing aromas that had drawn her in. It was he who, on her very first outing with Camélia, had sold her her first grilled meat dishes. Since then, he had become an essential stop on their walks through town. Despite the refined dishes served daily at the Reinhardt mansion, Vidalia still had a soft spot for his steaming grilled meats, imbued with that simple, honest flavor that warmed the heart. And Fred, with his gruff kindness and genuine attentiveness, contributed greatly to this.
"Mr. Fred!" she exclaimed, greeting him enthusiastically.
The giant welcomed her with a warm laugh, wiping his greasy hands on his apron before offering her a hearty bow. A few other vendors approached, greeting her kindly, some even going so far as to compliment her on her good looks.
"Ah, my dear Vida! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!" Fred said in his drawling accent, already preparing his usual dish. "But tell me, you look even more radiant than usual!" His eyes suddenly widened. "Don't tell me you're alone on this festive day? What about Camélia? Didn't she come with you?" "
The man was incensed as if it were the worst news in the world. Vidalia, taken aback, burst into a soft laugh and lowered her head, her cheeks flushing slightly. Her gaze slid timidly to Arzhel, beside her, almost instinctively.
Fred followed the direction of her gaze. A brief silence, then he blinked, once, twice, three times… before a huge smile stretched across his face. His booming laugh erupted like an explosion of good cheer.
"But… Arzhel?! By all that's holy, look at this!" he exclaimed, slapping him vigorously on the back, almost making him stagger. "You've grown quite a fellow, haven't you!" Then, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, he added, loudly enough for everyone to hear: "You'll take good care of our little Vida, won't you?" "
Vidalia wished she could disappear underground. Her cheeks burned, and when she dared to look up, she saw other merchants, amused, joining in the same joke, laughing and encouraging her with conspiratorial smiles.
Arzhel, true to form, simply smiled wryly. His relaxed, mocking tone charmed the crowd, but his eyes held a darker, possessive gleam as he promised—not without a hint of malice—to protect her.
And Vidalia, enveloped by this atmosphere of laughter and innuendo, felt her heart pound in her chest. Everyone knew now. How on earth was she supposed to fend off Arzhel after this?
≈≈≈≈≈
Fred greeted them again with his booming laugh, until their figures disappeared into the lively crowd. Vidalia couldn't help but smile, her heart still reeling with embarrassment, as Arzhel led her toward the next stalls. His hand, firmly clasped in hers, reassured her nonetheless.
Now, she felt ready to fully enjoy the festivities. No, she wasn't going to spoil this day with her inner turmoil: her feelings were complicated, but one certainty shone brightly within her—she didn't want to share this moment with anyone but Arzhel.
Their steps led them first to an archery range. Long painted targets stood illuminated by lanterns, while onlookers cheered on the participants. Vidalia watched, fascinated, then found herself with a bow in her hands before she even realized Arzhel had signed her up.
"I... I've never done this before!" she exclaimed, a little panicked.
"Then I'll teach you," replied Arzhel with that knowing smile that always made her feel he'd planned everything. Positioning himself behind her, he adjusted his stance, his hands lightly touching her arms to guide the movement.
Vidalia felt her breath catch in her throat—it was hard to concentrate on the target with its scent and warmth so close. She fired, clumsily, the arrow barely ricocheting off the target. The crowd chuckled good-naturedly.
Arzhel, for his part, burst out laughing. "Charming, Lia. If you wanted to spare the target, you only had to say so." "
Vidalia made a disgruntled face, which only accentuated her adorable expression. Finally, Arzhel picked up the bow and fired a perfect shot right in the center. The crowd applauded, and Vidalia, meeting his triumphant eyes, began to laugh in spite of herself.
They continued on their way, testing various stands. At the one with rings, Vidalia won a small stuffed animal representing a black cat - which Arzhel immediately took from the seller's hands and placed on her head. "That's it, so everyone will know that it's your secret pet. » Vidalia burst out laughing, her cheeks red, trying to collect her prize.
Further away, a troupe of acrobats played lively music. Violins and drums rang through the air, and couples began to dance. Vidalia, her eyes shining, observed the rapid footsteps and bursts of laughter around her.
"Want to try?" » suggested Arzhel.
She shook her head, laughing. "You want me to make a fool of myself in front of the whole place?" Never ! »
But Arzhel didn't see it that way. He grabbed her by the waist and, with a sure gesture, spun her around before she had time to protest. Vidalia burst into crystalline laughter, unable to hide her happiness, her hands gripping his shoulders so as not to lose her balance.
"See? You're already perfect," he whispered, holding her in his arms, their gazes holding for a few seconds too long. Vidalia looked away, her heart pounding, and tried to change the subject by laughing nervously.
Time passed in a succession of games, sweet treats, music and loud voices. The day gave way to dusk, and the city lit up with a myriad of floating lanterns, hanging from the balconies and from the wires that crossed the streets. The golden light reflected on the cobblestones, giving the festivities a magical air.
The laughter slowly subsided, replaced by a softer, almost captivating atmosphere. The musicians had swapped their lively tunes for slower melodies, and the couples now danced closer to each other, lulled by the music and the flames of the lanterns that swayed in the wind.
Vidalia stopped, fascinated. Her emerald eyes reflected the thousand lights of the party. "It's beautiful…" she breathed.
Arzhel, silent, did not look at the lanterns.
≈≈≈≈≈
Since their arrival, Arzhel had felt eyes weighing on them, like invisible shadows lurking in the middle of the colorful crowd. They had been wandering from one stand to another for hours, and yet... someone, somewhere, was following them. He sighed, tired of this constant vigilance, and ran a hand through his dark hair as he glanced around quickly. Not a moment of respite...
Yet when his gaze returned to Vidalia, everything else lost its importance.
The young girl, carefree, laughed out loud as she twirled with a group of neighborhood children, her veils and petticoats twirling like petals carried by the wind. The tambourines sounded, the flutes played bright and joyful notes, and each of Vidalia's laughs seemed to light up the place. Parents and passersby applauded enthusiastically, some clapping their hands to the rhythm of the improvised dance.
Arzhel looked at her, a smirk, shared between amusement and a strange tenderness that he did not dare to name.
"Take a seat!" Take a seat, dear spectators! » suddenly exclaimed a thunderous voice, full of enthusiasm.
A crier, perched on a small platform at the entrance to a large colorful tent, waved a stick decorated with golden ribbons. "Come closer, come closer!" Come listen to the original story of our glorious kingdom, passed down from generation to generation! You will not find anywhere else such a spectacle, nowhere else so much truth! »
The crowd began to get restless, families, couples and curious people flocking to the large opening draped in scarlet and purple fabrics. The air smelled of melted wax, incense and caramelized sugar, like a mixture of celebration and mystery.
Vidalia, still out of breath from her dance, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling, gently tugged on Arzhel's sleeve.
" It's what ? » she asked, out of breath, but with this radiant smile that made her look like a child amazed by every new thing.
Arzhel looked at her for a second, almost moved, then took an immaculate handkerchief from his pocket. He unfolded it with deliberate slowness, and without waiting for her agreement, approached her to mop up the beads of sweat that shone on her forehead.
"It's a storytellers' tent. » he explained calmly, his deep voice covered by a moment of music. He folded the fabric again and added, almost mockingly, "Looks like you've already sweated enough for the day, Vida." »
She puffed out her cheeks in a falsely annoyed look, before laughing. "Oh, leave me! It was fun! »
Their eyes met for a second too long. Around them, whispers began again: intrigued passers-by, children pointing The mysterious veiled maiden with the clear laughter was there, and the merchants smiled discreetly at the contrast between the imposing man and the fragile young girl.
Arzhel watched her wipe her cheeks, still flushed from dancing. His gaze softened despite the lingering irritation at the presence of those discreet figures behind them, never leaving their side.
"It's a performance. A traveling troupe reenacting the founding of the kingdom," he explained, adjusting his coat over his broad shoulders. "Every year, for the national holiday, they set up this large tent and tell the story as if we were there… magic included."
Laughter, children's shouts, and the aroma of roasting sweets wafted from beneath the colorful canvas. The deep voice of a narrator could already be heard, amplified by suspended crystal lights, along with enthusiastic applause.
Vidalia's eyes widened in fascination.
"With magic?" she asked, like an impatient child.
Arzhel stared at her, amused, then nodded.
"Yes. Illusions, flames, mirrors… Enough to impress the onlookers."
But Vidalia had already taken his hand, almost without thinking, and was gently tugging on it.
"Let's go see!"
His smile was radiant, and Arzhel couldn't bring himself to say no. With an almost protective gesture, he put his arm around her back to guide her through the dense crowd.
Inside the tent, the seats were already packed, children on their parents' laps, merchants sitting cross-legged on the floor, all facing the stage where a costumed mage was conjuring, in a cloud of shimmering smoke, the image of an ancient king brandishing a sword.
Vidalia brought her hands to her mouth, marveling at the play of light and the solemn narrative that resonated in the air. Around her, the people seemed almost to forget their worries, absorbed by the magic of the story.
Arzhel, however, kept his eyes fixed on the crowd, his sharp gaze scrutinizing every shadow. But when he returned to Vidalia, seeing her captivated, he sighed and allowed himself a faint smile.
"Enjoy it, Lia. Never mind the intruders..." he murmured.
A burst of crystalline laughter answered him as the scene shifted, revealing a dragon of flames whose ember-like wings illuminated the entire tent. Vidalia jumped, then applauded in wonder.
"Is everyone in place?!" the master of ceremonies called out in a vibrant voice.
A thunderous ovation and cheers answered him. The children clapped excitedly, the adults already leaning forward, impatient.
"Good! So… let's go back to the day the story began!"
The lights flickered, and the large white canvas that served as a screen suddenly lit up. Delicate shadows appeared, dancing, animated by magic. A small, dilapidated hamlet, figures with protruding ribs, and fields cracked by drought were all visible. The whisper of the wind could be heard in the tent, as if the spectators themselves had been transported into this wretched world.
"In a small village in Nantra, ravaged by famine, our ancestor, the great King Lyreos, was born. While war ravaged the world, Lyreos was starving… but he did not give up."
The images showed an emaciated young boy, but whose eyes shone with a fierce determination. We saw him offering his meager crust of bread to an old man, then carrying a child in his arms away from a burning cottage.
"He worked hard, giving his share to the young and the old. But our generous Lyreos wasn't weak… he had a dream: to become a knight and bring glory and prosperity to his village."
The audience breathed a sigh of admiration. Murmurs arose: "What courage…" "At his age…"
"But this dream… was far more difficult than he had hoped."
The figures shifted, revealing a military camp, men in armor. Young Lyreos appeared there in rags, carrying heavy buckets, cleaning boots, receiving lashes. Magic accentuated each movement, projecting a palpable pain into the tent.
"An orphan, from an unknown village… Lyreos was despised, humiliated." He was burdened with chores, sent to the front lines, left to face death alone. His life was so difficult… so cruel."
The audience booed loudly, mothers clutched their children, others were already wiping away tears. One woman sobbed aloud.
Vidalia, moved, brought her handkerchief to her eyes. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she tried to smile despite the sorrow that gripped her chest. Beside her, Arzhel crossed his arms and looked away, as if to hide the fact that he too was clenching his jaw.
"But one day! One day… when young Lyreos, seventeen years old, lay exhausted…"
The magic screen showed the young man collapsed under a large weeping willow, his shoulders trembling, his hands bloody. The stars twinkled above him, so close you thought you could touch them.
"Wounded, bruised, alone, he raised his eyes to the sky... and prayed, without believing it, for a miracle to finally come down to earth. »
A cathedral silence filled the tent. The spectators held their breath.
Then suddenly, the canvas lit up. A shower of stars crossed the magical night, a comet streaked across the screen and brought out a dazzling light. The children cried out in wonder.
"Until…" thundered the stage master.
"A magnificent young girl, descended from the sky, crashes at the foot of the tree! »
The shadows transformed: we saw a slender figure, haloed in light, fall into the arms of the stunned young Lyreos.
"Shocked, he came running. She trembled, dazzling, fragile like a flame. He gave him something to drink, shared his bread…"
The audience was completely silent, captivated.
"And when he wanted to speak to her… he understood that she did not speak his language. His heart sank with disappointment, because he couldn't tell her what he felt... But his eyes... oh, his eyes had already told him everything. »
A gentle melody rose up, played by invisible instruments, and the entire tent vibrated with this universal emotion: hope, tenderness, love emerging in the middle of the ruins.
Vidalia took a deep breath, her bright eyes fixed on the canvas. She clutched her handkerchief so tightly that her fingers turned white. Arzhel, meanwhile, glanced at the crowd...and his expression darkened. Behind the tears and smiles of the spectators, he had once again felt those lingering glances, those too still silhouettes in the shadow of the marquee.