The scent of turned soil and pale blooming clover lingered in the breeze as Riven walked the market path just outside the southern square, her gloved hand brushing against the hem of her skirt as she adjusted the ribbon-tied hat perched delicately atop her curls. The path wound between green hedges and low stone walls, dotted with fresh spring flowers and idle nobility, some of whom eyed her with vague curiosity as they passed.

Behind her, Noela hustled to keep pace, holding a small paper parcel from the bakery, cheeks pink from the lingering warmth of the late morning sun.

“I don’t see what’s so wrong with a little polite conversation, m’lady,” Noela offered, ever cheerful as she stepped around a puddle. “The other girls were just trying to make you feel welcome. They meant well.”

Riven stopped, sighing quietly. “It’s the fact that it drags on and on for far too long. If I let them start, I won’t hear the end of it.”

Noela hummed in response and Riven turned her gaze to the busy streets. Of course, Noela didn’t know the real reason Riven was even bothering with these gatherings was to gain more information. In her first life, her pretense at being delicate meant she never went to parties and unfortunately, there wasn’t much she remembered from the book that could help her.

Devon had been the one who united the noble families loyal to Calia, so there had been no mention of direct names other than House Illirian. Her chance of getting close to Lewis had already been ruined, so Riven was certain she would need to find another family. One still undecided in their allegiance, but powerful enough to be useful if she aligned herself properly. Yet every gathering she attended ended the same way: half-smiles, shallow compliments, and conversations so careful they felt like walking in circles through fog.

“I’m sure it’ll get better once you make some friends, m’lady,” Noela offered and this time Riven turned, giving her handmaid a bright smile.

“Perhaps, Noela, although none–” Riven’s words were cut off as a sudden gust of wind swept down the cobbled path, catching her hat and tugging it from her head in one swift motion. She reached up instinctively, but it was already too late. The pale ribbon fluttered like a banner as the breeze carried it upward, tossing it above the nearby hedges and into the open square beyond.

“Oh!” Noela gasped, already bounding forward with surprising speed. “I’ll get it, m’lady!”

Before Riven could even open her mouth to protest, the girl was darting into the crowd with the determination of a soldier chasing a banner. Riven blinked after her, lips pressed together in a mixture of amusement and mild irritation.

“I don’t even like that hat,” she muttered under her breath.

Still, Noela’s absence offered a rare moment of peace. Riven stepped aside to the edge of the walkway, settling beneath the dappled shade of a blooming tree. With the market square just ahead and the sound of chatter spilling over from open vendor stalls and carriages, she was content to linger out of view.

“Oh my! Do you see that?”

“I did! I wonder what he’s doing here?”

“Maybe it’s a gift! My cousin said he made a showing at his younger sister’s tea party.”

Riven perked up as she heard the gossiping ladies, glancing to try and see where they were looking. She caught the flash of green and quickly saw the group of knights standing further down the street, standing near one of the smaller fountains. They moved with the confident stride of men who knew their presence commanded attention.

The crest was House Taren’s.

Riven stood, carefully moving to avoid attention. Given the ladies’ words, they had seen Kaelen, and as curious as she was to understand his new role in the story, she wasn’t eager to gain his attention again. She carefully sat on the fountain opposite them, hoping none of the soldiers would recognize her.

“Sabotage or shame, they’ll never say the truth,” one of the knights said loudly, clearly young and still finding his footing in the guard. “Tournaments are full of cowards pretending they lost on purpose.”

“It’s a matter of pride. Maybe one day you’ll understand,” another chimed in, his tone drier, older, and with the patience of someone who’d seen far too many overzealous youths fall off their horses in front of royalty.

“I’d rather fight in a war than spend my days polishing boots and pretending I’m a knight by tossing around a practice sword at some fête,” the first replied with a scoff. “Tournaments are for pageants, not soldiers.”

“You say that now,” a third added with a chuckle, “but if Lady Corvane smiled at you from the stands, I bet you’d leap at the chance to be trampled in front of her.”

The group broke into a round of laughter, their armor clinking softly with each gesture, their words half-boast, half-banter. But Riven wasn’t listening to their names or their brash confidence. Her eyes had already found the one who hadn’t spoken at all.

Elias stood a pace apart from the others, hands loosely clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed but alert. While the others grinned and nudged one another, he kept his eyes on the edge of the square, as if measuring the movement of the crowds or waiting for something to interrupt the noise. He was focused and clearly on duty, a different face than the simple kindness he had offered her in the garden.

“What do you think, Elias? Would you fight if Lord Kaelen sponsored you?” the first knight called out to him and Elias glanced over, barely offering more than a flicker of a smile.

“I don’t think Lord Kaelen would waste a coin on someone like me,” Elias replied, his tone mild but not self-deprecating. There was no bitterness in it—just fact. His voice lacked the hungry edge the others wore so openly, that constant scramble toward reputation, toward praise. The knights laughed again, but the sound felt thinner this time, like they weren’t sure whether to press him or leave it alone.

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” the older knight scoffed, stepping forward and slapping a gauntleted hand against Elias’s shoulder. “You handled those wildlings in the southern pass better than any of us. Kaelen’d be a fool not to throw his weight behind you.”

Elias shrugged lightly, his expression unchanged. “I don’t fight for recognition.”

 “Guess that’s true. Otherwise, you’d go back home and fight for your family name.” one of the other knights jabbed and Elias barely flinched, as if he hadn’t heard what the man said. “But you didn’t answer the question. If he did, would you?”

The conversation died away as everyone waited for Elias’s answer, all eyes on him as Elias glanced around at the others, eyes calm beneath the soft gold of the afternoon sun. The breeze shifted again, stirring the edge of his green cloak and the faint scent of horse and steel that clung to every knight. His expression, though unreadable at first, settled into something contemplative, almost… disinterested.

“I think,” Elias said at last, his voice level, “if I ever find something worth fighting for, I would do what I need to.”

“So you don’t think Lord Kaelen is worth it?”

“He is a decent man, but no, I don’t see him as my reason for being a knight,” Elias answered simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The bluntness of it quieted the group more than any insult would have. No mockery, no embellishment. Just the quiet certainty of a man who knew himself far better than the rest of them did.

Riven sat very still, one gloved hand resting lightly on the curve of the fountain’s rim. She hadn’t been certain of it before but something about him seemed… off. As if she knew him somehow, but she would have remembered meeting someone like him. Not that dark hair and grey eyes were uncommon, but because Elias gave off an energy that was quietly unwavering, like stone in a stream.

Most knights became one for prestige or a chance of a better life serving a lord, but Elias didn’t seem to care for either. He wasn’t chasing glory, nor clinging to honor the way many of the others were. His words were quiet, but heavy in their honesty.

“Lady Riven!”

Noela’s voice cut through the crowd, and Riven resisted the desire to jump up, not wanting to give herself away. She had hoped to learn what Kaelen was doing in the city, but it seemed her time was up. Riven slowly stood, ignoring Noela’s cries for her, slowly walking as if she wasn’t the one the maid was looking for.

It wasn’t until she was nearly at the corner of the square that she turned her head, noticing her handmaid with the escaped hat.

“Lady Ri– Ah, there you are! You wouldn’t believe how far it went!” Noela’s voice was as cheerful as ever, even though it was obvious the girl was out of breath. Riven couldn’t help her smile as she gently took the hat from Noela’s hands, brushing her fingers over the slightly crumpled ribbon as she spoke without looking up.

“You chased this all the way to the sky, did you?”

Noela huffed out a breathless laugh, her cheeks pink from exertion and pride. “It flew like it had wings, m’lady. I nearly had to barter with a baker to get it down from his awning.”

“Thank you, Noela,” she murmured, adjusting the hat atop her curls. She wasn’t planning to wear it again, but it gave her an excuse to keep her face turned away. As Noela led the way back to the carriage, Riven’s thoughts drifted back to Elias. Maybe like Idrina, he was a new character, someone created from the merging of the stories.

Maybe.