Luna sat at her vanity, dressed in pale sage green, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder like moonlight caught in silk. Maela stood behind her, gently pinning her final hair ribbon into place.
"You look lovely today, my lady," Maela beamed, her fingers smoothing the last crease in Luna's sleeves. "So fresh and lively! I haven't seen you like this in… years."
Luna offered a small, genuine smile. "You make it sound like I've come back from the grave."
Maela giggled. "You've come back from bedrest. Close enough."
Luna chuckled softly, pretending to adjust the drape of her shawl. In reality, her thoughts were elsewhere.
Today was her first outing beyond the estate since the accident. But it wasn't just for flowers or fresh air.
She had a plan.
Her target was a specific café rumored to be linked with the intelligence guild.
The café's owner—a woman rarely seen in public—was said to run far more than tea and pastries.
If the rumors were true, that woman was none other than Velira Adair, Guildmaster of the Independent Mercantile & Intelligence Circle.
Luna needed information—about her parents' deaths, the apothecary, the so-called cure. And Velira was her first door.
But with two knights, Maela, and a steward at her side, slipping away for a private conversation wasn't going to be easy.
She'd just have to improvise.
The carriage rolled through the cobbled streets of the town, Caelora's banners fluttering from its sides. Townsfolk parted and bowed low, recognizing the emblem.
Inside, Maela chattered nervously, peeking through the curtains.
"Oh! The bakery added apricot tarts this season, and the flower stalls look full," she said, eyes wide with excitement. Then she looked at Luna and smiled softly. "I'm just happy, my lady. Happy you're here. You feel… brighter again."
Luna folded her hands gently in her lap. "Thank you, Maela. Truly."
"I always prayed you'd laugh again," Maela added, her voice quieter now. "After the accident, after… after they died, you stopped smiling for years. You were like a beautiful doll someone forgot to wind."
The words cut deeper than Maela realized.
Luna reached over and squeezed her hand. "Then maybe it's time I learn to wind myself again."
The carriage slowed. The steward called from outside, "We've arrived at the town square, my lady."
The sunlit plaza bustled with vendors and townsfolk. Children darted between stalls, and the aroma of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon wafted through the air.
Luna stepped out of the carriage with the practiced grace of a noble lady, her cane tapping lightly on the cobbles. The two knights flanked her, hands resting on their hilts, eyes sharp.
She began her slow walk through the market, Maela trailing just behind, ever watchful.
As they passed the fruit stalls, Luna's ears caught the edge of a sharp voice. A woman's, strained and defiant.
"Leave me alone. I said I'm not interested."
Three men stood in a crooked half-circle around a dark-haired woman near the alley corner. She wore travel clothes—dusty boots, a cloak pinned at one shoulder—and she was clearly not frightened, but very close to throwing a punch.
Luna recognized her instantly.
Velira.
This was her chance.
She turned quickly—too quickly.
"My lady—?" Maela called behind her, startled.
"Ah—!" Luna let out a quiet cry and pretended to stumble, bolting toward the trio.
She slammed into one of the men, making him stumble back into the others. Velira moved just in time to avoid being knocked over, but Luna herself fell to the ground, arms out.
The man she bumped growled, wheeling around. "You little—!"
Before he could strike, steel flashed.
A knight's blade was at his throat in a heartbeat.
"Touch her and lose your arm," the knight said coldly.
The other two backed away quickly, stammering excuses.
Velira blinked, eyebrows raised. "...That was bold."
Maela rushed to Luna's side, nearly shrieking. "My lady! Are you hurt?!"
"I'm fine," Luna said gently, brushing off her skirt. "I only tripped."
"You don't run," Maela scolded, half-angry, half-hysterical. "You're blind, my lady! What if you hit a cart or fell on stone?!"
Luna laughed softly. "Don't worry, Maela. I'm not that fragile."
Maela scowled, brushing her hands down Luna's arms anyway. "You scared the life out of me."
Then the woman they'd saved stepped forward, her smile crooked but impressed. "Didn't mean to get your ladyship caught in my business, but… thanks. That was gutsy."
She looked at the knights, then back at Luna. "Least I can do is treat you to tea. My café's nearby."
"Thank you," Luna said with a warm nod. "That sounds lovely."
The café sat on the edge of the square—modest, unassuming. Wooden sign, glass-paneled door, flowerpots at the windows.
Inside, it was quaint: only five tables, a long bar, and a chalkboard with today's blends.
The knights stayed outside near the door, and Maela helped Luna to a seat.
"I'll fetch us some sweet buns," Maela said cheerfully. "You wait here."
Luna nodded. "Actually, Maela? While you're at it… could you go to the trinket stall near the square gate?"
Maela paused. "Why?"
"I want to buy a brooch that would suit Serion. I wanted to buy it for him. But, well…"
"Because you can't see," Maela finished softly.
Luna smiled. "Exactly."
Maela beamed, completely taken in. "Of course, my lady! I'll get the best one there. Wait for me, alright?"
The moment she was gone, the café's atmosphere changed.
Velira approached from the bar, wiping her hands with a linen cloth.
She sat down across from Luna and casually sipped from a small porcelain teacup. Her amber eyes glinted with something sharp.
"You're good," she said softly. "Falling into thugs what if you had got hurt? Smooth."
Luna tilted her head ever so slightly. "I heard this café served more than tea."
Velira chuckled. "That so?"
Luna leaned in, voice low. "Spring mist brews best at midnight."
Velira's smile stilled.
A pause.
Then slowly, deliberately, the woman leaned forward, her eyes losing their playful gleam and gaining something colder. Smarter.
She shifted her seat around the table and sat beside Luna instead of across from her.
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur.
"Well then… How may I help you, Lady Luna Eirwen Caelora?"
The smile she wore now was not warm.
It was mischievous. Knowing. Dangerous.