Color spilled across the market square in waves. Red fabric. Blue streamers. Yellow awnings snapping in the breeze. Voices layered over each other. Laughter. Arguing. Someone shouting about fresh apples.

Valmira stopped dead, and her eyes widened.

So did mine.

“…It’s loud,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s alive!”

And then she grabbed my wrist.

“Come on!”

She dragged me forward before Dad had even stepped past the first produce cart.

“Stay where I can see you!” Dad called.

“We will!” she shouted back.

That was a lie.

She dragged me through the crowd, dust flying up around our feet.

The first stall: fruit.

She leaned over a crate of oranges like she’d discovered treasure. “They’re so round!”

“They’re fruit.”

“They’re symmetrical!”

The stall owner chuckled at us.

I overheard some men talking about her, her ears, her cuteness...they were being creepy.

I glared at them.

Valmira got in my face, staring at me with those round eyes.

She picked up an orange and shoved it in my face. “Look at this color!”

I glanced past her shoulder. Those men were gone; that's a relief.

Then, beyond the food stalls, farther down, I saw the glint of steel under sunlight.

Weapons.

I tried to step sideways.

She yanked me back.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“You were escaping!”

“I was observing.”

“You’re not allowed to observe alone!”

“I can see perfectly fine from here.”

She shoved the orange toward me. “Smell it.”

“…Why?”

“Because it smells like summer!”

I sighed and humored her.

It did smell good.

She beamed like she’d won something.

We moved three steps.

Second stall: fabric.

She gasped again.

“Look at this!”

She ran her fingers across deep green silk. “It’s so smooth!”

I leaned around her again.

The weapons stall was definitely there.

I could see spear shafts.

Maybe even short blades.

Dad passed behind us carrying grain now, giving me a look that clearly said, 'don’t even think about it.'

Valmira noticed where I was looking.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I just want to see one thing.”

“You only want to see weapons.”

“Yes.”

“That’s boring!”

“It’s not.”

“They’re just sharp metal.”

“They’re precisely sharp metal.”

She huffed.

Before I could move, she grabbed my sleeve again.

“Spice stall!”

I nearly tripped.

She pulled me into a wall of scent so strong my eyes watered.

Cinnamon. Pepper. Something smoky.

She sneezed.

Then laughed.

Then sneezed again.

“This is amazing!” she declared.

I blinked rapidly. “I can’t breathe.”

She shoved a small pouch under my nose. “Smell this!”

“That’s what caused the problem!”

I glanced around, and people were looking at her. Of course they were, she's an elf. Though I doubt anyone here knows she's the youngest princess of the Daevery crown.

Dad appeared beside us at that moment, looking faintly overwhelmed.

“Why are we yelling?” he asked calmly.

“It’s exciting!” Valmira said.

“It’s loud,” I corrected.

“It’s exciting and loud!”

Dad rubbed his temple once, but I could see the twitch of his lips. “You two are louder than the merchants.”

Valmira grinned.

“That’s because we’re enthusiastic!”

Dad exhaled slowly, smirking at her excitement.

We moved again.

She dragged me to a stall selling carved wooden animals.

“Look! It’s a fox!”

“It’s a block of wood shaped like a fox.”

“It’s adorable!”

I glanced over her shoulder again.

The weapons stall was so close now.

I could see sword hilts.

Leather grips.

Proper balance points.

Valmira caught the direction of my gaze for the third time.

She crossed her arms.

“You’re not even pretending anymore.”

“I have been patient.”

“You’ve been suffering.”

“Yes,” I said immediately.

She stared at me for a long moment.

Then sighed dramatically.

“Fine.”

I blinked.

“Fine?”

“We’ll go to your boring, sharp metal stall.”

“It’s not boring.”

“It absolutely is.”

She grabbed my wrist again.

But this time, she ran toward the weapons stall.

Dad followed at a slower pace, looking resigned.

The weapons merchant was a broad man with scarred forearms and a booming voice. Swords hung behind him. Spears rested in barrels. A few short daggers lay across the table.

My pulse jumped.

It wasn’t magic, just interest.

I stepped closer, carefully.

Valmira leaned in beside me.

“…They’re bigger than I thought,” she admitted quietly.

The merchant noticed us. “Ah! Young warriors!” he boomed. “Looking for your first blade?”

Dad stepped in immediately. “Just looking.”

The merchant laughed. “Of course.”

I studied a short sword on the table. The balance was slightly forward. Good for cutting. Not ideal for speed.

Valmira watched me instead of the weapons.

“You’re analyzing,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“You look serious.”

“I am.”

She leaned closer. “You’re happy.”

I paused. “…Maybe.”

She smiled faintly. Then she picked up a wooden practice dagger from the corner.

“This one is less terrifying,” she announced.

The merchant chuckled. “That one’s for training.”

She pointed it at me.

“Duel me!”

“Not here.”

"You're a coward!”

“Not here.”

Dad sighed.

Valmira spun once in the open space, nearly bumping into a passing woman.

Dad caught her shoulder just in time.

“Slow down,” he said.

“But there’s so much!”

“I can see that.”

He looked tired. Actually tired. We’d only been here half an hour, and Valmira was still vibrating with energy.

She tugged me again. “Next stall!”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“That’s not a direction!”

She laughed and ran anyway.

Dad followed at a slower pace, muttering something about fields being quieter.

I walked beside her this time instead of being dragged.

The market noise pressed in from all sides.

People talking.

Metal clinking.

Children laughing.

And some mercenary bragging about their achievements.

It wasn’t controlled, nor was it structured.

It was messy, but alive.

Valmira spun toward me suddenly. “Are you glad we came?”

I looked around once more.

At the stalls. Then at Dad, who is trying very hard not to look exhausted. Though there was a slight amusement on his face as well.

Then I looked at her bright, unstoppable grin.

“Yes,” I admitted, a smile forming on my face.

She beamed.

“I knew it!”

Dad exhaled deeply behind us, but I could see his eyes softening up. “I’m going to need a nap after this,” he muttered.

Valmira laughed.

And for the first time since we stepped into the square, I stopped scanning for danger.

Just for a moment.

And let the noise exist.