The arrival of summer heralded the Magic Tower's most anticipated event: the Annual Creative Fair.
A month into the season, the Tower opened its grand halls and sprawling courtyards to showcase the latest magical discoveries, inventions, and artistic feats. The entire Kingdom was invited—nobles, scholars, merchants, and commoners alike—all eager to witness the wonders unveiled within the towering spires of arcane brilliance.
Under the warm glow of enchanted lanterns, the Tower pulsed with life. Stalls lined the marble halls, each offering glimpses into the minds of the Tower's finest—runes that could etch themselves into weapons mid-battle, enchanted fabrics that shifted color with emotion, potion-infused perfumes that enhanced memory or dulled pain. The air buzzed with the scent of spiced wine and roasted delicacies, while bursts of magical demonstrations sent cascades of light into the sky.
Delphia walked beside Zypher, her deep sapphire gown reflecting the flickering illumination around them. Wherever they moved, murmurs followed.
"She carries herself differently now."
"Not at all the girl she once was."
"And with the Magic Tower's heir at her side? That's no small thing."
Zypher smirked as he caught the comment, leaning slightly toward her. "They're trying to decide whether to be impressed or afraid."
Delphia lifted a glass of honeyed wine from a nearby floating tray, her expression unreadable. "They'll adjust."
Not everyone, however, was willing to accept this new reality so easily.
Across the exhibition hall, Calista Faremont observed them with a carefully curated smile, dressed in flowing gold and silk embroidered with starbursts. Her presence, as always, exuded grace and effortless charm, but beneath it lurked a slow-burning irritation.
Diligently now, Calista had commanded High Society's favor with poise, intelligence, and an unshakable reputation. But tonight, whispers carried a different tune. The balance had shifted. Delphia's rise had unsettled the careful order she had built.
And Calista would not allow that to continue.
Gliding through the crowd, she approached with the precision of a seasoned courtier. "Lady Vosswell," she greeted smoothly, ensuring the volume of her voice turned a few heads. "How wonderful to see you here. I must say, I had wondered whether this event would pique your interest."
Delphia turned, her expression cool. "Lady Faremont."
Calista's gaze flickered toward Zypher. "And, of course, Lord Thorne. You seem to be everywhere together these days. The court has taken notice."
Zypher's smile did not reach his eyes. "Is that so?"
Calista feigned a soft laugh. "Oh, yes. Some have even started calling you two 'quite the pair.' It's rather charming, really. Though I imagine the attention must be overwhelming for someone unaccustomed to such scrutiny."
Delphia recognized the veiled barb immediately—an attempt to remind those listening of her past scandals, to subtly imply that she was still an outsider navigating a world Calista had long mastered.
Rather than rising to the bait, Delphia took a slow sip of her wine, letting the moment stretch. Then, tilting her head just slightly, she replied, "Attention is nothing new to me, Lady Faremont. Though I must admit, it is amusing how quickly opinions shift. People do so love a good redemption story."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Calista's features before she masked it with a knowing smile. "Of course. It's always heartwarming when the court finds a new narrative to entertain itself with."
Zypher chuckled, amusement edging his tone. "And yet, some stories endure beyond mere entertainment."
Calista's grip tightened subtly around her fan. "Indeed," she said lightly, though Delphia noted the stiffness in her posture.
Before the exchange could continue, Alaric appeared at Calista's side, offering a polite nod. "Lady Vosswell; Lord Thorne." His voice was neutral, but his gaze lingered on Delphia, something unreadable behind his expression.
Calista, regaining her composure, slipped her arm through his. "We were just speaking about how much the court has changed these past months."
Alaric's gaze flickered between them before settling on Delphia. "It has, indeed."
Something passed between them—unspoken but undeniable. For the first time, he was truly seeing her, not as the girl from his past, but as the woman standing before him now. Calista's fingers curled ever so slightly around his arm.
Delphia smiled, serene and unshaken. "The court adapts. As do we all."
With that she gave them a departing nod, and turned, letting the moment settle as she and Zypher moved away, the murmurs of those watching humming at their backs.
As they wandered deeper into the fair, the tension of the exchange melted into the air of festivity surrounding them. Zypher plucked a caramel-dipped fig from a vendor's tray, holding it out for Delphia to try. "Consider this your reward for your impeccable composure."
She bit into it, savoring the blend of warm sweetness and rich spice. "Bribery through desserts? Dangerous."
He smirked, taking one for himself. "You're worth the risk."
They passed by a stall where a mage demonstrated self-stirring teacups, then another where an alchemist sold crystalline sweets infused with temporary levitation magic. Delphia selected one, allowing herself to be lifted just an inch from the ground, feeling an airy weightlessness before settling back down.
Zypher watched her with quiet amusement. "And here I thought nothing could surprise you anymore."
She glanced at him, eyes alight. "This world still has plenty of wonder to offer me."
The sound of violins and lutes echoed from the Courtyard, where an open pavilion had been arranged for dancing. The warm evening breeze carried the laughter of guests spinning beneath the enchanted glow of floating lanterns.
Zypher extended a hand. "Dance with me?"
She smiled at him, then placed her hand in his. "I would love to."
He led her into the crowd, weaving through the dancers with effortless confidence. The moment he pulled her into the first turn, the world narrowed—just the two of them, the golden glow of lanterns above, the music swirling around them like something tangible.
Delphia wasn't sure when she had last danced simply for enjoyment rather than necessity. But here, beneath the starlit sky, in the heart of the Magic Tower's most wondrous night, she allowed herself the indulgence of it.
Of him.
Zypher's grip was steady, his movements easy, as if he had known her rhythms all his life. "Enjoying yourself?" He murmured, amusement threading his voice.
She met his gaze, the corners of her lips curling. "Maybe just a little."
The music swelled, and they danced on.
As the music played on in the Courtyard, the evening air carried a pleasant warmth, infused with the faintest scent of night-blooming flowers. The lanterns overhead cast a golden glow, their soft flickering light adding to the enchantment of the moment.
Delphia and Zypher moved in easy synchrony, his hand firm at her waist, guiding her through the steps of the waltz. Though there were many dancers around them, it felt as if they were in a world of their own.
Zypher leaned in slightly, his voice a quiet murmur. "You truly enjoy this, don't you?"
Delphia glanced up at him, a knowing smile on her lips. "Dancing is far more enjoyable when your partner doesn't have two left feet."
He chuckled, twirling her with effortless grace before pulling her back into his embrace. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Delphie."
Before she could offer a witty retort, a voice cut through the air beside them. "Lady Vosswell, may I have this next dance?"
The warmth of the moment shifted subtly, and Delphia turned to find Alaric standing before them, his expression carefully composed. Beside him, Calista wore a smile that was far too polished to be genuine, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable in the lantern light.
Zypher stiffened immediately, his hold on Delphia tightening as his gaze flickered to Alaric with barely concealed irritation. "I don't believe she—" Delphia placed a gentle hand on Zypher's arm, the simple touch enough to ease the tension coiling within him. He exhaled slowly, though his sharp gaze remained fixed on Alaric.
Lifting her chin slightly, Delphia met Alaric's gaze with measured calm. "Only one dance, Crown Prince. I much prefer dancing with my Zypher over anyone else."
A flicker of something passed through Alaric's expression—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper—but he quickly masked it with a nod. "Of course."
Zypher's lips pressed into a thin line, his reluctance evident. But after a beat, he sighed and released her, though not without a warning glance at Alaric. "Fine. But only one." Instead of turning to Calista, as politeness might dictate, Zypher barely spared her a glance. "I'm going to get another drink while I wait," he stated flatly, before striding off toward the refreshments, leaving Calista standing in place.
Calista's smile barely wavered, though her grip on her silk fan tightened.
Delphia allowed Alaric to take her hand, his touch cool against her skin. As they stepped into the dance, the music shifted seamlessly, and she could feel the weight of watching eyes—the court's endless fascination with their every move. But, Delphia had long since learned that she was no longer the one being scrutinized. Tonight, it was Alaric and Calista who had to hold their ground.
And she had no intention of making it easy for them.
The moonlight bathed the courtyard in a soft glow, the flickering lanterns casting delicate patterns across the polished stone beneath their feet. Around them, other pairs glided across the floor, lost in murmured conversations and the gentle sway of the waltz.
Alaric's grip was firm but respectful, his movements precise as he led her through the first few steps. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them filled with the distant hum of conversation and the lilting melody of the string quartet. But Alaric was not a man who enjoyed silence when there were questions to be asked.
"You've changed," he remarked, his voice quiet yet steady. "The Delphia I knew would have never entertained a night like this."
Delphia met his gaze without hesitation. "The Delphia you knew is long gone."
A muscle in Alaric's jaw tightened, but he gave her a measured nod. "So it would seem." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Your actions during the Summit and Tournament were... commendable. Unexpected, perhaps, but undeniably so."
She arched a brow. "Unexpected? And here I thought you always had a clear idea of who I was."
He exhaled through his nose, a slight shake of his head betraying the frustration he carefully hid. "I thought I did. But every time I look at you now, it's like I'm seeing a stranger."
Delphia let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "And yet, you still asked me to dance."
Alaric hesitated, something flickering in his gaze—something unspoken, something unreadable. "I suppose I was curious."
She tilted her head, considering him. "Curiosity is dangerous, Crown Prince. It leads people down roads they aren't prepared to walk."
His hold on her waist tightened almost imperceptibly, as if her words struck a nerve. For years, Delphia had been a presence in his life—persistent, unwavering, always waiting just beyond his reach. And now? Now she barely seemed to care that he was here at all.
The realization gnawed at him in a way he hadn't anticipated.
"Is there truly nothing left of the woman I once knew?" He asked, his voice quieter now, more contemplative.
Delphia studied him for a moment before offering him a smile—one that was polite, distant, and utterly indifferent. "People change, Alaric. Some of us simply do it faster than others."
The song began to wind to a close, and she moved with effortless grace, executing the final steps with practiced ease. As the last note lingered in the air, she gently pulled her hand from his grasp and took a step back, offering a small curtsy.
"Thank you for the dance," she said smoothly, already turning away.
And just like that, she was gone, gliding back toward Zypher without a second glance.
Alaric remained where he stood, watching as she slipped back into her world—a world where he no longer held any sway. The weight of that truth settled in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
He had once thought he knew exactly who Delphia Vosswell was.
Now, he wasn't so sure.