“And those enchanted gloves,” Charlotte added, nodding toward a stall where gloves fashioned from materials as diverse as pressed flower petals and shimmering spider silk were elegantly displayed. “They’re said to each bestow a unique enchantment upon the wearer’s touch.”
Iris drew a deep breath as her eyes swept across the diverse array of stalls. The sweet, spiced aroma of ember-roasted chestnuts mingled with the sharper scent of frozen moonlight being ground into fine powder at a nearby stall. Everywhere she looked, something new and astonishing caught her eye.
“I’ve heard,” Charlotte remarked in a whisper, “that if you know where to look, you’ll find certain vendors selling items of a more … questionable nature.”
“Yes, I believe so,” Rosavyn confirmed with a conspiratorial grin. “Items that are strictly regulated or outright banned within proper fae society. I doubt your grandparents would have granted their permission quite so readily if they’d been aware of?—”
“Lady Iris,” a voice called out.
Iris froze, her heart thundering and her hands growing instantly sweaty within her gloves at the sound of the familiar voice. Taking a breath, she turned to find Jasvian standing a few paces away, his tall frame unmistakable even in the shifting light of the market. Her heart performed a few more ‘concerning cardiac acrobatics,’ as her notebook had so aptly described the phenomenon.
“Jasvian,” Rosavyn exclaimed, breaking the awkward silence. “I never thought you’d deign to attend something so whimsical as the Night Market.”
“I’ve attended in previous years,” he replied stiffly. “Though not recently.”
“Well, do try not to frighten the vendors with your brooding,” Rosavyn teased. “The poor things might think you’re evaluating their stalls for tax assessment rather than enjoyment.”
Charlotte suppressed a laugh behind her hand, but Jasvian barely seemed to notice his sister’s jibe. His severe expression softened as he addressed Iris directly. “Good evening, Lady Iris. This is your first time at the Stardust Night Market, I presume?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, suddenly acutely aware of her every movement, her every word. “It’s quite remarkable.”
“Indeed.” He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. “I was hoping, perhaps, that you might … that is, I wondered if you would care to view the market with me?”
Though Iris kept her gaze fixed on Lord Jasvian, she could feel Rosavyn and Charlotte’s stunned silence radiating beside her.
“I haven’t been in several years,” Jasvian continued, his words coming more rapidly now. “And since this is your first time, I thought … well, there are certain vendors and magical displays that are particularly worth seeing, and I—” He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. “I would quite like to see them with you.”
The simple admission sent warmth coursing through Iris’s chest. Rosavyn made a sound partway between a laugh and a cough, leaning closer to Iris and whispering, “I cannot imagine what?—”
“That sounds lovely,” Iris found herself saying, her voice steadier than she felt. She removed her arm from Rosavyn’s, adding, “If the two of you don’t mind?”
“I, uh—” Rosavyn coughed again. She stared at Iris with a questioning gaze, which Iris met with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. After a moment, seemingly convinced that Iris was not discreetly signaling for help, Rosavyn said, “Not at all,” though her narrowed eyes suggested she would demand a thorough explanation later. “But you must be careful not to lose track of time,” she added. “Your grandparents mentioned they would meet us on the bridge at the closing chimes.”
Jasvian nodded. “I will ensure Lady Iris returns to the bridge well before then.”
“See that you do,” Rosavyn said, her tone somewhere between teasing and stern—a sister’s prerogative, Iris supposed. With a final curious glance at Iris, Rosavyn and Charlotte headed in a different direction, not entirely out of earshot when they dissolved into giggles.
Left alone with Jasvian, Iris suddenly found herself struggling for words. The memory of his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin burned vividly in her mind, making it difficult to meet his gaze.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the heart of the market.
Iris nodded, falling into step beside him as they moved deeper into the maze of enchanted stalls. For a while they walked in silence, both seemingly unsure how to bridge the distance that had grown between them over the past few days.
“I must apologize for my recent scarcity.” Jasvian’s voice took on that formal quality he seemed to adopt when uncomfortable, his gaze fixed on the path ahead rather than meeting her eyes. “I’ve been working with Lord Hadrian on a project of some significance. He had a rather sudden breakthrough in the design that required far more of my input than previously anticipated.”
“Oh.” The word escaped Iris on a soft exhale. Relief cascaded through her like summer rain, cooling the anxious heat that had built within her these past days. He hadn’t been avoiding her after all. The worry that had taken root in her chest withered beneath this simple, practical explanation. And this would explain Lord Hadrian’s absence as well. It seemed he had not inexplicably withdrawn his attentions. Rather, he had been occupied with what sounded like deeply absorbing work.
“And you, Lady Iris?” Jasvian’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “How have you … that is … have you been well?” The question emerged with careful formality, as if he were feeling his way across uncertain terrain.
“Yes, quite well,” she replied, her response equally measured. “Lady Rivenna has kept me extraordinarily busy at the tea house. She has assigned me the task of hosting my own small event there, as a means of assessing my progress thus far—though not until after the Summer Solstice Ball, of course. My focus for now must remain on preparing my magical display for that night. Oh, and I’ve even had my first few lessons in tea leaf reading.” She hesitated, aware that she was rambling somewhat, but uncertain how to recapture the ease that had characterized their interactions before that night in the study. “It’s quite fascinating how the patterns reveal themselves. I was curious to know whether the readings might align with?—”
She caught herself abruptly, realizing what she had nearly revealed. Jasvian didn’t yet know the true nature of her magic. “That is,” she amended hastily, “I’ve been curious about this ancient art your grandmother still practices with such dedication. The way she finds meaning in seemingly random arrangements of leaves is quite remarkable.”
“Indeed,” Jasvian said with a nod. He took a breath as if to add something else, then hesitated before closing his mouth.
They lapsed into silence once more, Iris aching for the easy rhythm of their written exchanges. How peculiar that they could share thoughts so freely through the distance of ink and paper, yet standing here beside one another, words seemed to evaporate before reaching her lips. Would it be utterly ridiculous, she wondered, to seek out a quill and paper and write him a note here in the midst of the market simply to bridge this carefully polite awkwardness that now stretched between them?
“I’ve been reading poetry,” Jasvian said finally.
