Chapter 4—Vandria
I PACE THE LENGTH OF my bookstore in a swirl of restless energy. The overhead lanterns twinkle with pastel hearts. Customers drift through the aisles, flipping pages and whispering idle gossip about the grumpy newcomer. More than one claims he’s skulking around town, refusing to take part in any festivities. Naturally, that piques my curiosity and tugs on my remaining guilt.
A pair of teen witches huddles at the front display, giggling behind their hands. They’re pointing at a local newspaper article that references “the disgruntled human florist.” The headline just appeared on the page, which fills itself in each time there’s a new story, so the reporter is moving quickly.
I slip behind the counter, smooth my jacket sleeves, and tell the store’s animated quill to hold down the fort. Nobody seems to need urgent magical texts right now. I swing the door sign to “Back Soon” and head into the bustling midday sunshine.
Evershift Haven is in full festival mode. Heart-shaped leaves drift across the cobblestones, couples lounge in front of pop-up treat booths, and kids chase pastel illusions of floating candy hearts. The entire atmosphere buzzes with romance. Normally, I’d find it charming. This year, I’m scanning the crowds for one surly face with a personal lantern in tow.
It doesn’t take long. Right outside the Town Hall, I spot Declan leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed, and scowling at a paper in his hand. I think it’s the map I gave him. Judging by his scowl, he’s in no better mood than before. A few people pass by and glance at him, but no one dares approach.
I stride up, hooking my thumbs into my belt loops. “You hiding from the entire festival, or just the parts that involve fun?”
He looks up sharply, eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and relief. “I’m not hiding. I’m...trying to figure out if there’s any exit that won’t loop me around again.” He rattles the map from my shop.
I arch a brow. “How’s that going?”
He huffs. “About as well as you’d expect. Every road leads back here.”
A breeze blows through, carrying the scent of cinnamon and chocolate from a nearby booth. I catch his gaze flicking to my fangs, half-hidden by my lips. I force a gentle smile, hoping to disarm him. “Word is, you’re in a bad mood.”
He stiffens. “I wouldn’t call it a mood. I’m trapped.”
“Semantics.” I gesture around at the heart-shaped streamers overhead. “You might as well make the most of it. If you can’t leave, you can at least have a good time.”
He glances away, tension in his jaw. “How? By letting these weird illusions chase me around while everyone laughs at the outsider with the clingy lantern?”
I inch closer, lowering my voice. “I know it feels like the whole town’s mocking you, but they aren’t. They just...enjoy the spectacle. If you join in, they’ll stop treating you like a sideshow.”
His gaze flicks to the golden orb bobbing at his shoulder. “I doubt that. This thing won’t quit.”
I plant a hand on his folded arms. He doesn’t recoil, but he does tense. “Listen, Mr. Florist, you’re stuck here until at least the end of the festival. You can sulk, or you can...live a little.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t jerk away. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Chocolate,” I say simply, tapping the air like I’m reading off a list. “Dancing. Maybe a fortune-telling booth that’s rumored to give scarily accurate predictions.”
He snorts. “Chocolate? I guess that doesn’t sound too bad.”
A slow smile curls at my lips. “See? There’s hope for you yet.”
He frowns. “Fine. One activity. Then I’m out.”
I link my arm through his before he can protest. The lantern flares a cheery gold, as if it approves. “One at a time. We’ll start with the chocolate-tasting.”
We navigate the festival stalls lining the Town Square. Vendors in colorful aprons showcase trays of handmade truffles, fudge, and all manner of sugary confections. A portly dwarf manning the main table spots me and waves. “Vandria? You found a partner for the contest?”
I sense Declan tensing beside me, but I beam at the dwarf. “Absolutely. Sign us up.”
Declan tries to pull his arm free. “Wait. Partner for what?”
The dwarf chuckles. “Our annual chocolate-tasting contest. Pairs compete to guess flavors, some of which are enchanted. You in, big guy?”
Declan shifts, scowl returning for a second before he nods. “Okay, I guess. Let’s do it.”
We step behind a long table, where other pairs wait, including an elf couple, two local witches, and a pair of giggling pixies. A row of covered dishes sits before us, each sporting a mysterious question mark. The dwarf rings a little bell, and we raise our lids simultaneously.
A wave of chocolate aromas hits me, along with mint, cherry, caramel, and other enhancements. Some look normal, but others sparkle with swirling illusions. Declan picks up one with pink stripes, sniffs suspiciously, then pops it in his mouth. He jolts, eyes widening. “Hot pepper,” he croaks. “Really hot.”
I fight back a laugh. “Might be a chili-cinnamon infusion.”
He coughs, steam literally coming from his ears. Our neighbors giggle while the dwarf notes something on his scoreboard. I choose a dainty truffle that glimmers with gold flecks, nibble it, and savor a smooth hazelnut mousse center. “Mm, hazelnut. A subtle enchantment that tastes like a campfire.”
“Campfire?” Declan mutters between coughs.
“It’s cozy,” I say breezily, scribbling down my guess.
When another bell chimes, we rotate to the next dish. This time, Declan’s more cautious. He picks one shaped like a little heart with pink sugar crystals on top. He sniffs, then tries a bite. For a moment, his eyelids flutter shut. He looks almost peaceful. Then, around his head, half-translucent hearts flutter, drifting away into the air.
He scowls. “Why does everything in this town produce floating hearts?”
I shrug. “It’s the festival.”
We continue sampling flavors, occasionally guessing right. Other times, we end up with illusions that make Declan sprout cartoonish hearts on his jacket or swirl pastel confetti around me. By the end, we’re tied with the elf couple. The dwarf announces them as the winners.
Declan wipes chocolate smudges from his mouth. “I could’ve done without the illusions.”
“But you liked the tastes, right?” I angle my head, catching a hint of a reluctant grin.
He shrugs. “Might’ve been good, except the hot one.”
I grin in triumph. Progress.
We wander through the crowd. A swirl of upbeat music from a live band echoes by the fountain, where couples dance on a temporary stage. Paper lanterns overhead glow in soft pink, a preview of the luminous show tonight. The wind picks up, making the ribbons around the lampposts flutter.
Declan slows, gaze locked on the dancers twirling across the platform. They’re all smiling, a swirl of color and magic drifting around them. He shifts his weight as though he’d rather be anywhere else, but his eyes linger. I tug at his sleeve.
“You’ve handled chocolate like a champ. Ready for something else?”
He hesitates. “Not sure dancing is my style.”
I can’t resist a little tease. “Afraid to show off your moves?”
He snorts, crossing his arms. “I’m ex-military, not a ballet dancer.”
I extend a hand. “Let’s see if that discipline translates.”
He looks from my hand to the stage, then back to me. The lantern at his shoulder bobs encouragingly. With a sigh of resignation, he uncrosses his arms and slips his hand into mine.
The warmth of his palm sends a small tingle up my arm. I feign indifference, leading him onto the dance floor. A swirl of lively strings and percussion surrounds us. We step among the other couples, and I guide him into a simple waltz pattern.
At first, he’s stiff and self-conscious, glancing at my face then away. The music shifts to a slower tune, giving us a chance to settle. His shoulders relax marginally. I press closer, feeling the firm line of his torso. He’s strong, which makes sense, given his background.
He fumbles a step. “Sorry.”
I smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re better than half the partners I’ve danced with.”
A corner of his mouth twitches. For a brief moment, we slip into a rhythm and circle around the stage, sidestepping confetti illusions that burst at the music’s crescendo. The band transitions into a more romantic melody, and for a few blissful seconds, I forget about the stares or the bets people have on him.
He looks at me, and we both freeze. Electric tension arcs between us. Then, as if remembering he’s not supposed to be enjoying this, he clears his throat and steps back. The music continues, but he stops dancing.
I move a step away, letting my arms drop. He coughs, raking a hand through his hair. “I, uh... That’s enough dancing, right?”
My chest tightens with an unfamiliar disappointment. “Sure.” I force a bright smile. “Ready to check out something else?”
He nods quickly. “Yes. Please.”
We slip off the dance floor and back into the buzzing crowd. A small kiosk catches my eye: bright purple drapes, a crystal ball on a pedestal, and a sign that reads “Madam Threads’ Fortune-Telling: Love Edition.” Usually, she’s a clothing enchantress, but for the festival, she moonlights as a fortune teller, weaving illusions.
“This should be good,” I say, tugging Declan forward.
He eyes the booth warily. “Fortune-telling? Not sure I believe in that.”
I arch a brow. “We have flying lanterns and orcs, but fortune-telling is where you draw the line?”
He exhales, conceding the point. “Fine. One reading.”
Madam Threads beckons us with glittering eyes. She’s dressed in a shimmering wrap with a large cameo pinned at her throat. She gestures to two stools in front of the crystal ball. We sit.
She runs gnarled fingers over the glass orb, swirling pink light inside. “Ah, welcome, welcome,” she croons in a melodic tone. “Your hearts are entangled with the festival’s magic.”
Declan shifts uncomfortably, arms on his knees. “Uh, sure.”
She ignores his hesitation and leans in. “Let me see your joined auras.”
I catch his eye, and he sighs, placing his hand next to mine on the booth’s velvet cushion. Madam Threads peers through the orb. At first, it glows faintly, but then it flashes a brilliant, fiery red. Declan flinches, and I wince at how intense that color is.
Madam Threads cackles. “Oho! A strong bond, or a budding one. The flame is potent.”
Declan jerks away his hand, heart definitely pounding—it’s visible in his clenched jaw. “That’s enough. Thanks.”
She grins slyly. “Destiny weaves an interesting tapestry.”
He mumbles a tense goodbye and practically bolts from the booth. I send Madam Threads a quick wave of thanks before hurrying after him. His lantern trails behind, flickering in an amused pattern.
WE END UP NEAR THE fountain, which is decorated with floating rose petals and a subtle pink glow. He stops by the water’s edge, hands braced on the stone rim. The air smells like flowers and sugar, but his frustration is palpable.
“Why does everything keep pointing at...that?” He gestures vaguely, presumably meaning romance.
I tilt my head. “That’s the festival’s vibe. If you’re singled out by a lantern, folks assume it’s leading you to someone.”
He shoots me a guarded glance. “It’s all nonsense.”
I shrug, leaning beside him. “Maybe, but the illusions and potions here are rarely wrong.”
He runs a hand down his face. “It’s overwhelming.”
I rest a palm on his back, just briefly. “I get it. You’re not used to magic or constant talk of love. If you want to bail, I won’t force you to continue.”
He exhales and straightens. “I’ll manage.” Then his expression shifts to wariness as a hush falls across the square.
A hush drapes over the square. Mayor Ambrosius Spellbinder stands atop a raised platform, adjusting his tall, starry hat. He lifts his staff, clearing his throat. “My friends, thank you for joining our Valentine Festival. The time has come for our grand scavenger hunt tonight.”
Declan halts, tension rolling through him. He looks at me like he’s hoping he misheard. The crowd buzzes with excitement as the mayor continues, “Pairs, assemble at once. Your first clue awaits on the dais. Follow each riddle, collect items from across Evershift, and present them at the final checkpoint. Only then shall you be declared victors.”
Chatter explodes around us. People scramble to form teams. A few already hold clues, scanning them while weaving through the lantern-lit square. My father strides past with an elegant tip of his head, and my mother offers a wave.
“What do you say? Wanna pair up?”
He eyes me for a moment but grunts in what I assume is a yes. “Let’s get the clue then.” I drag him to where it’s posted, ignoring his hint of resistance.
Within the ringing of midnight’s tower,
Seek the shape that holds time’s power.
Count gears of gold and name them all—
Share the sum or watch them fall.
He blows out a breath and looks at his map of the town. “So...Celestial Clock Tower?”
I grin. “Looks like it. Ready to hunt?”
The music in the square changes to a lively tune, and lanterns begin bobbing in sync above us. Declan’s orb hovers near his shoulder, glowing brighter, as if eager to begin. He tightens his hold on the clue. “Yeah, let’s get this done.”
A mischievous thrill flickers through me. “We’ll see if you’re as good at scavenger hunts as you are at tasting chocolate.”
He glances at me, lip twitching in a near-smile. “At least the chocolate had rules I understood.”
“Don’t worry.” I hook my arm through his, leading him from the square. “Just follow my lead, soldier boy.”
He snorts but doesn’t pull away. We dart toward the glow of the clock tower. Around us, couples race past with their own clues, everyone fueled by excitement. Even he is wearing a small grin.