4. 3 #3
Theodore’s smile brightened, slow and knowing, as he leaned in.
“After the war, my father didn’t just have to rebuild the city, he had to rebuild trust.” He paused, his voice softening.
“But Aurevyn doesn’t break easily. He turned inward.
We invested in ourselves. In our people.
” His fingers shifted in hers, tracing the inside of her wrist with idle ease.
It made her shiver. “We built new academies. Expanded the old ones. My mother even taught for a time. Said it was the only way to mend what war had torn.” He glanced out the window, watching the market roll past. “Now, our people teach. They build. They heal. They grow crops where ash once fell. My father listened. He gave them a place that would protect them if war should ever threaten our walls.”
“Really?” Mabel asked, her voice hushed with wonder.
He nodded. “He said it wasn’t easy. But it mattered.”
Outside, the world stirred. The carriage came to a gentle halt, its wheels crunching faintly against cobbled stone.
Mabel lifted her head as the muffled sounds filtered through.
Hurried footsteps passed, voices rising and falling in lively bursts, merchants calling out their wares with rhythmic chants that echoed through the streets.
It was Aurevyn’s heartbeat, louder than the castle, raw and unpolished. Life beyond titles and ballrooms.
Theodore shifted, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “Ready to meet the kingdom properly?” he asked, already reaching for the door.
Mabel swallowed hard as nerves swirled beneath her ribs. But she nodded anyway.
Theodore slipped out of the carriage with practiced ease, the chill, salt air curling around him. He turned back, extending his hand toward her.
She reached for it, tentative, but he found her first, fingers closing around hers. He helped her down gently, guiding her into the bustle of Aurevyn’s streets.
The city square unfolded like a living tapestry.
Cobbled paths twisted through the heart of Aurevyn, slick with morning dew and the churn of carriage wheels.
Hooves clattered, iron-rimmed carts groaned, and the air buzzed with the hum of trade.
Smoke curled from chimneys overhead, mingling with the scent of fresh bread and cured meats.
Shops lined the square in tight formation, with blacksmiths hammering at iron gates, weavers displaying bolts of dyed linen, apothecaries grinding herbs behind thick-glassed counters.
Narrow alleyways stitched the blocks together, winding like veins through the city’s spine. Banners fluttered overhead, marked with trade emblems. A pair of guards passed in fur-lined cloaks, axes strapped to their backs, nodding to merchants as they moved.
The square itself was its own storm of motion. Vendors shouting over one another, dogs weaving between legs, and the clang of a bell marking the hour.
It was fast. Loud. Unapologetically alive.
And Mabel, standing at its edge, felt something stir in her chest, a mix of awe and ache. This was the world she’d been kept from. And now, she was stepping into the heart of it.
Theodore led Mabel without direction, their pace unhurried, hands still loosely entwined.
As they walked through the city, a soft hum of voices rose around them. Smiles bloomed, hands lifted in greeting, warm and familiar.
“That’s the princess,” a mother whispered to her child. “She’ll be our future queen.”
Mabel offered a small smile, uncertain beneath the weight of the words. Future queen. The title felt distant, heavy. She could only hope she’d be enough.
Theodore slowed beside her, his gaze catching on a statue in the distance.
“This way,” he called, and she followed.
The figure towered above them—a king, sword gripped in both hands, carved from stone. A bronze plaque had been mounted at the base—King Alric Venhart of Aurevyn.
“My grandfather,” Theodore said, eyes fixed on the stone.
“I barely knew him. He’d been at war for so long.
The rare occasion he did come home …” He looked over the statue carefully, jaw set.
“My father inherited the crown young, and he poured everything into this city. Built it from ruin. Honored the legacy—and made it ours.”
Mabel studied the statue’s fine details, then glanced back at Theodore, catching the weight in his eyes.
“What a legacy to leave,” she whispered.
He said nothing, just gave her hand a squeeze and turned from the statue etched in expectation. They walked on in silence. His movements were tight, restrained, as though he were holding something in. Mabel glanced back once more before the statue slipped out of sight.
“Theodore,” she spoke gently, hesitantly. He didn’t look at her. She looked down, taking a steady breath, but he spoke first.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “Let’s keep this fun, okay?” His smile flickered, dimmer than usual. Mabel didn’t press. She simply nodded and matched his stride.
They wandered on, passing steaming carts and chattering children, the city alive around them. Every few steps, Theodore paused, pointing at plaques, relief carvings, or ornate ironwork and shared stories that blurred between fact and myth.
Mabel soaked it all in—the architecture, the wind, the cadence of his voice. It didn’t matter where they were going.
The sound of crashing waves drew closer the further they strayed from the square. Mabel could almost taste the salt drifting through the air. Theodore pulled her along until she could see the horizon shimmering through the end of the alleyway.
“Is Moorthwyn close to the sea?” he asked. The look in his eye said he knew the answer already, but she still appreciated that he asked anyway.
“It is.” She nodded, quickly glancing away. “But I’ve never seen it.”
Theodore’s smile grew even brighter, like he already knew that answer too. His pace quickened, sending her scrambling to keep up with him. The wind swept through her hair, the chill biting at her face, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Soft laughs escaped her as he dragged her along.
The moment they stepped from the alleyway, Mabel was entranced. A thick stone balustrade separated them from the plummeting drop. The ocean, vast and endless, stretched out before them like something ancient.
Her palms pressed against the stone wall, the sting of cold biting at her skin, but she hardly noticed.
Below, the sea churned violently, waves colliding with jagged rocks and exploding into a spray that glittered briefly before vanishing into mist. The smell was even sharper up close, almost burning from its intensity.
“It’s beautiful,” Mabel whispered, her voice filled with awe as her eyes drank in the chaos and majesty of the view.
Theodore stepped in close, his warmth radiating through her as his hand settled on the small of her back beneath her cloak. His voice was soft, steady, as he gestured to the cliffside further down. “That’s where we’ll be married.”
Her gaze followed his hand and caught on the temple.
It rose from the ocean like something carved from a dream, immense and almost intimidating.
Four towers anchored its corners; each crowned with slender spires that pierced the sky.
At its center, a dome swelled upward, and from its crown, a single spire, taller than all the rest. Large windows were carved into the walls to allow sunlight to filter through no matter the angle.
The sight stole her breath. It was both magnificent and daunting. In just a few months’ time, she would be sharing vows with this stranger there. Her eyes fell from the temple and landed on Theodore. He wouldn’t be a stranger much longer. She was sure of it.
His gaze found hers, softening. She couldn’t help but notice how much his gray eyes captured the sea inside them.
His hand on her back pressed her closer to his chest. He leaned in, ever so slowly.
Her heart leaped. This is it. Mabel all too eagerly fluttered her eyes shut, her head tilting up just slightly.
She could feel his breath ghosting against her lips, hesitating, waiting, before shifting to the shell of her ear.
“I have one more place to show you, Princess.”
She didn’t need to open her eyes to know a grin would be plastered on his face. It still frustrated her beyond end when she saw it.
But once again, she allowed him to sweep her through alleyways and busy streets until the buzz of the city began to fade and foot traffic grew thin.
Theodore hummed lowly, the sound curling in the cold air as his hand slipped to the small of her back. “Here we are,” he said, stepping aside to reveal a squat, weather-worn building nestled between taller storefronts.
The sign above the door—chipped and swinging slightly in the breeze—simply read Entertainment in a crooked scrawl.
Mabel squinted. “That’s vague.”
Theodore chuckled. “And entirely intentional.”
As they approached, a small panel slid open in the door, revealing a single, skeptical eye.
“Who’s there?”
Theodore stepped forward with his signature smile lighting up his features.
“Priiiince Theodore,” a delighted shout echoed from within, followed by the sharp clank of metal bolts sliding free.
The door swung open to a sudden burst of sound—lively music, voices raised in half-drunken song, and laughter tumbling out into the street. The scent of incense and paint hung thick in the air.
In the doorway stood a man, bare-chested, streaked in swirls of bright pigment, reds, golds, and blues across his tan skin. He leaned against the frame with theatrical flair, one brow raised.
“Branley the riot,” Theodore greeted, smile wide and ever charming.
“It’s good to see you.” Branley smiled devilishly before pulling away and spotting Mabel, who was standing just behind Theodore.
“Well, well,” he purred, gaze trailing down to her with exaggerated interest. “And who might this delicate little flame be?” His gaze flew back up to Theodore, a hand lifting to sift through his black curls.