Chapter 90: Date

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Date

"There are moments when all anxiety and trouble are forgotten, and the heart feels as if it were expanded to take in all the happiness of the world." — Washington Irving

The heavy iron gates of the royal residential wing clicked shut behind them, leaving the suffocating world of court politics and endless lessons on the other side.

For once, Riven wasn’t wearing his usual high collared coat or carrying a stack of books. He had changed into a clean, dark tunic, with the bandages on his right hand hidden beneath the fabric.

Beside him, Lyra walked through the lantern lit streets of the lower capital.

She had gone to considerable effort to disguise herself. A deep emerald cloak covered her shoulders, its hood pulled low over her face. Illusion lenses changed her violet eyes to a dull hazel, and her silver blonde braids were tucked beneath a plain wool cap.

Without her usual royal attire, she looked like an ordinary young woman out for an evening stroll.

That was exactly the point.

Riven led her past the crowded spice markets and rows of apothecary stalls before stopping outside a boutique tucked beneath the limestone arches of the old weaver’s quarter.

The windows displayed dresses made from fine silk and velvet, along with simpler clothes that lacked the gold embroidery and elaborate designs favored by the nobility.

Lyra looked from the shop to Riven.

"Why are we here?"

"Come on. You’ll see."

He pushed open the door, and a small brass bell chimed above them.

Inside, the shop was warm and quiet. Soft lantern light fell across rows of neatly arranged clothes, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh fabric.

Lyra glanced around, then looked back at him.

"Riven, did you bring me shopping?"

"That’s usually what people do in a clothing shop."

She gave him a look.

"You know what I mean."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand.

"You spend all day wearing those stiff royal outfits. I thought you might like something different for once."

Lyra blinked.

Then her expression softened into a smile.

"You planned an entire evening around buying me a dress?"

"Well, I figured you could use a break from lessons and royal duties." He shrugged. "And I wanted to spend some time with you without someone asking me to solve a problem or fight somebody."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Don’t sound so surprised."

She laughed, and the sound made him smile.

"Fine," she said, turning toward the displays. "Since you’ve gone to all this trouble, I suppose I’ll have to find something."

"Take your time."

For the next twenty minutes, Riven waited near the counter while Lyra browsed through the dresses. Every so often, she held one up and glanced in his direction, clearly waiting to see what he thought.

He quickly learned that giving an honest answer was safer than trying to guess which response she wanted.

Eventually, she disappeared behind the fitting screen with a dress draped over her arm.

When she stepped out again, Riven looked up from the display of folded shirts beside him.

And forgot what he had been about to say.

The dress was a deep twilight blue, simple and elegant, with thin silver stitching around the neckline. It suited her far better than the stiff formal gowns she wore at court.

Without the royal jewelry and elaborate clothing, she looked less like a princess and more like Lyra.

The girl who laughed at his terrible jokes. The girl who worried when he came home injured. The girl who had sat beside him while he cried over someone he had lost.

He found himself staring.

Lyra shifted her weight.

"Well?"

Riven blinked, realizing he had left her waiting.

"Sorry."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Sorry? Is that all you have to say?"

"No." He looked at her again, a small smile forming on his face. "You look beautiful, Lyra."

Her expression went completely still.

Then a blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck.

"Oh."

Riven’s smile widened a little.

"Oh?"

"Don’t repeat me!"

"I’m not repeating you. I’m asking a question."

"You’re enjoying this."

"A little."

She looked away, trying to hide her smile. Her fingers brushed over the silk at her side, smoothing a wrinkle that wasn’t there.

"Do you really like it?" she asked, quieter this time.

"Yeah. I do."

There was no teasing in his voice now. He meant it.

Lyra looked back at him, and her smile grew warmer.

"Then I’ll get this one."

"Good choice."

Riven turned toward the shopkeeper before she could say anything else and paid for the dress with a pouch of silver coins.

As he handed it over, he noticed that his own cheeks felt warmer than usual.

Great. Now she’s got me blushing over a dress.

He decided not to think about it.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat at a small table outside a café beside the canal.

The evening breeze carried the smell of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries. Lanterns hung from the stone bridges overhead, their reflections rippling across the dark water.

Between them sat two mugs of dark roasted coffee and a tiered plate of honey glazed pastries and chocolate dusted tarts.

For once, there was nowhere Riven needed to be.

No lessons to catch up on. No instructors waiting to criticize his spellwork. No nobles looking for an excuse to challenge him.

He leaned back in his chair, letting his shoulders relax.

Lyra noticed.

"You look comfortable."

"I am."

"That’s a surprise. I thought you were physically incapable of relaxing."

"Only around people who ask too many questions."

She gasped in mock offense.

"Are you calling me annoying?"

"Would you prefer persistent?"

"Neither."

"Demanding?"

"Riven."

He laughed softly and reached for another pastry.

Lyra tried to look annoyed, but she was smiling too much to manage it.

For a little while, they simply enjoyed their food and watched the people passing along the canal. Riven found himself paying more attention to Lyra than the street around them.

She had pushed her hood back just enough to eat comfortably. The tinted lenses still hid her violet eyes, but he could see how relaxed she had become.

It was nice seeing her like this.

Not as the Crown Princess who had to watch every word and consider every consequence, but as a girl who could enjoy a quiet evening without worrying about what the court expected from her.

He wished she could have more days like this.

Footsteps approached their table.

"Good evening! Have you decided on anything else, or are we keeping it sweet tonight?"

Riven looked up.

A young elven waitress stood beside them, her copper curls tied into a messy braid. She wore a bright smile and carried a small order pad in one hand.

Her eyes briefly fell on Riven’s bandaged hand.

"Ouch. What happened to your hand, love?"

Riven glanced down at it.

"Got a little carried away with my training."

"That looks worse than a little." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I can bring you some mountain mint tea. It’s good for inflammation, and it’s on the house."

"That’s kind of you, but I’m fine. Thank you."

"Are you sure, love? I don’t mind."

Across the table, Lyra slowly lowered her coffee mug.

Riven noticed the change immediately.

The relaxed expression on Lyra’s face had vanished. Her shoulders straightened, and her gaze fixed on the waitress with such intense disapproval that Riven briefly wondered whether he should start looking for an escape route.

The waitress, apparently oblivious, smiled at him again.

"Just let me know if you change your mind, love."

She turned toward the kitchen.

Riven watched her leave, then looked back at Lyra.

Lyra was staring at him.

He cleared his throat.

"What?"

"Love?"

Riven’s mouth twitched.

"Apparently."

"Apparently?"

"That’s what she called me."

"I heard her, Riven."

"Then why are you asking?"

Lyra’s eyes narrowed.

He lasted about two seconds before a quiet laugh escaped him.

That was a mistake.

Her expression sharpened.

"You think this is funny?"

"A little."

"Really?"

"Lyra, she called me love. It’s just a saying."

Lyra stared at him as if he had just suggested something outrageous.

"She was flirting with you."

"Maybe she’s just friendly."

"She offered you special tea for free."

"She was being nice."

"She called you love."

Riven leaned back, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Should I have asked her to write a formal apology?"

"Don’t tempt me."

That made him laugh again, though he quickly reached for his coffee to hide it.

Lyra folded her arms.

"You are enjoying this far too much."

"You’re cute when you’re jealous."

The words slipped out before he could think about them.

Lyra went silent.

Riven’s amusement faded just enough for him to realize what he had said.

Then her cheeks turned bright red.

"I’m not jealous!"

"Of course not."

"I’m serious!"

"So am I."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again when she realized he was smiling at her.

"You’re impossible," she muttered.

"That’s what I’ve heard."

Lyra tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Riven reached across the table with his uninjured hand and gently touched her fingers.

"Hey."

She glanced down at their hands.

"What?"

"You know I’m here with you, right?"

Her expression softened, though a trace of embarrassment remained.

"Yes, I know."

"And I’m not going anywhere with the waitress."

"You’d better not."

He grinned.

"There she is."

Lyra gave his hand a light squeeze.

"Don’t get too comfortable. I can still make your life miserable."

"I believe you."

"You should."

They sat quietly for a moment, their fingers still intertwined across the table.

Then Lyra glanced toward the kitchen before looking back at him.

"She really didn’t need to call you love."

Riven shook his head, laughing under his breath.

"We were having such a nice evening, too."

"We still are."

"Right. Of course."

Lyra lifted her chin, looking rather pleased with herself.

"Good. Because I don’t intend to share you."

Riven looked at her for a moment.

Then his expression softened.

"You don’t have to worry about that."

The teasing smile on Lyra’s face faded into something gentler.

She squeezed his hand again, and this time, Riven squeezed back.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

They didn’t need to.

The canal shimmered beneath the lanterns, the café hummed around them, and the rest of the city carried on without knowing that a princess and a former slave were sitting together in the open, enjoying an ordinary evening.

Riven took another sip of his coffee.

It had gone a little cold.

He didn’t mind.