Chapter 16 - Beneath the Gathering Lights
Evening fell gently over Korth, painting the sky in lavender and rose as Neia stood before her mirror, fastening the last button of her soft yellow dress. It fluttered slightly as she moved, light as early spring, and she dabbed her favourite perfume at her wrists and behind her ears, a familiar, delicate scent that made her feel just a little more like herself. With a small handbag over one shoulder and her hair carefully arranged, she took one last glance around her apartment before settling near the door. The boys had promised to fetch her so she would not get lost in the crowds, and though the hour had tipped slightly past what had been agreed upon, Neia waited with a curious mix of nerves and anticipation.
The doorbell rang at last.
She opened it quickly, her heart giving an entirely unreasonable flutter, only to find Gideon standing alone on the step. He had traded his usual armour for a simple linen shirt and well-cut vest, sleeves rolled to the forearms in a way that felt almost disarming. A faint, nervous smile touched his lips, and in his hands, he held a small bouquet of flowers. Among them were wood anemones, their white petals nodding gently in the breeze.
“These are for you,” he said, holding out the bouquet with a careful hand. “Devon said it would be rude to show up empty-handed, and I… well, I picked them myself. I’m afraid I don’t know much about flowers, but I chose what felt like you.”
Neia blinked, surprised by the softness of his words, then accepted the bouquet with both hands and a smile that warmed her cheeks. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
When she glanced over his shoulder, expecting the others, he quickly explained. “They got caught up with some last-minute work at the Guild archives. They said they’ll meet us there. But they insisted I still come to get you. A promise is a promise.”
Gideon shifted slightly, then added, “If you want to put those in water first, I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.”
Neia tilted her head with a soft smile. “Would you like to wait inside? Just in the hallway?”
He straightened as though the suggestion were entirely unthinkable. “That’s all right. I’m fine here.”
Neia laughed quietly, warmth in her eyes. “All right, Sir Sentinel. I’ll be just a minute.”
She slipped back inside and placed the bouquet carefully into a vase on her table, its simple shape framing the flowers with gentle elegance. Then, with one last look at her little home, she stepped out into the warm evening to find Gideon waiting exactly where she had left him. They exchanged a shy smile, and together they set off, walking side by side beneath the glow of lanterns slowly coming to life along the path to the festival.
The walk began in a hush, the kind that settled not with comfort but with the sort of tension that made one all too aware of the sound of their own footsteps. Neia, unused to such companionable silence, found herself clutching the strap of her little handbag like it might offer her an escape. Beside her, Gideon walked with the solemn focus of a soldier on patrol, though he did glance at her now and then, as if trying to summon the right words and losing the battle every time.
Eventually, Neia caved.
“So,” she said, glancing at him sideways, “have you ever met any druids before?”
The question, though simple, lifted the air between them just enough. Gideon blinked, then shook his head, an apologetic look already forming. “I don’t believe I have. Unless you count the one standing beside me.” He smiled slightly, and Neia returned it with a light laugh. “Most of the people I meet are either soldiers, bodyguards, or part of the Guild. Magic users, not so much. Devon being the rare exception.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed that, too. Since I arrived, I haven’t met any druids either. It’s odd, but I suppose not every place has need of moss and mushrooms.”
That earned her a chuckle. A small one, but a genuine one. Encouraged, she continued. “Do you like working in the Guild? You don’t have to answer that if it’s personal, of course.”
“No, I don’t mind,” he said at once, his tone steady and thoughtful. “I do like it. It’s... fulfilling, in its way. Though I suppose I feel a certain pressure sometimes. My father’s legacy, Caelan’s reputation. It’s easy to wonder whether I’ll ever measure up. But I try to think of it as a challenge. A chance to grow, I guess.”
Neia’s gaze softened. That sort of answer was not what she’d expected, and it left a quiet impression. He didn’t speak like a man burdened by resentment or bitterness. He spoke like someone who took responsibility seriously.
“Can I ask how old you are?” she said after a beat. “Feel free to say no, of course.”
“I’m twenty-nine,” he answered simply.
Her eyes widened a little. “Oh. I thought you were older. Not in a bad way, just—”
He grinned. “It’s all right. I get that sometimes.”
“You have that... stable, reliable sort of energy.”
“I think that might be the nicest way someone has ever called me boring.”
Neia giggled, and Gideon, pleased by the sound, gave a modest shrug. “I won’t ask your age in return. My mother raised me better than that.”
The laugh that left her was brighter this time, a little less cautious. “Your mother sounds like a very wise woman.”
“She is. And terrifying. But mostly wise.”
Neia tilted her head. “Are you close with your family?”
That, oddly enough, required no hesitation at all.
“Yes. Very.” There was something warm in his voice now, a low fondness that softened his features even further. “People think it was all iron discipline and early training. But my mother runs the house with kindness, not rules. My father may look like an old warhound, but he’s the kind who goes hiking with me outside the city just to talk. And Caelan… well, he’s my older brother. Annoying, nosy, too clever for his own good, but he means well. We get on.”
Neia listened with a growing smile. “That sounds... lovely, honestly.”
“It is,” he said. “And when I visit home, my mother insists on teaching me new recipes. Pretends I don’t already know how to cook, even though she’s the one who taught me in the first place. I always moan about it, of course. But truthfully? I enjoy it. I like cooking.”
Neia lit up at that. “Me too! I used to cook a lot when I was travelling. You have to, really, but I actually enjoyed it.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed quieter again, but this time it wasn’t awkward at all.
Just warm. And waiting.
Then, almost in perfect unison, they both looked away, as if the moment had caught them unprepared. Neia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that didn’t need fixing, while Gideon focused very hard on a cobblestone in the path. Neither of them spoke, but the smiles they wore refused to fade, lingering like sunlight after a passing cloud.
And though neither dared say it aloud, both were already looking forward to what the evening might bring.
The festival had already begun to bloom across the city like spring in full swing. Paper lanterns floated overhead in gentle arcs, tethered between shopfronts and trees, casting soft halos of gold and rose against the gathering twilight. Flags rippled in the breeze, and garlands of dried blossoms hung from painted poles. The cobbled streets were alight with the chatter of a hundred voices, the scent of roasted spices and sugared pastries drifting through the warm air.
Neia found herself awash in colour and music as she and Gideon stepped into the heart of it. It was more crowded than she expected. With every step further in, the swell of people grew, pressing close in a tide of cheerful chaos. Somewhere beyond the maze of bodies, Gideon promised, Devon and Caelan would be waiting near the food stalls.
Just as she was beginning to feel her own smallness in the crowd, Neia felt an arm shift gently around her shoulders. “Pardon me,” Gideon said softly as he guided her forward, his voice low and careful. “Just making sure you don’t get swept away.”
His arm slid gently around her shoulder, the motion natural, instinctive. Neia felt the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her dress, the way it easily covered the curve of her shoulder, steady and reassuring. There was nothing forceful in the gesture. His touch was firm enough to guide, yet careful enough to ask permission. For a heartbeat, the noise of the crowd seemed to dim around her.
Her breath caught, though not out of alarm. She tilted her head up to glance at him, cheeks warming with surprise. “Thank you,” she said, a faint smile playing at the edge of her lips. “So this is what it feels like to be able to afford a House Deneith bodyguard.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a quiet sincerity to her gratitude.
Gideon offered her a shy smile in return, his hand steady but not imposing as they wove through the crowd.
Meanwhile, across the square near the glowing circle of food stalls, two men leaned against a wooden counter beside a pop-up ale booth operated by The Bramble Swan, one of their favoured taverns. Devon held a glass of something tart and effervescent; the rim dusted with spiced sugar. He took a leisurely sip and looked far too pleased with himself.
“I still can’t believe he fell for it,” Caelan said, shaking his head with a grin. “You’re certain he doesn’t suspect anything?”
“Gideon?” Devon raised his brows. “He’s sweet, but bless him, emotional cues fly right over his head. He probably has no idea this was all for him.”
Caelan laughed, tipping his drink in salute. “I hope to the gods this works. I’ve never seen someone so ready to fall in love and so wholly unaware of it.”
Devon clinked his glass against Caelan’s with a smirk. “Then may this festival be the first spark of many.”