The city of Floravere bloomed in earnest on the day of the Petal Festival, when nobles and commoners alike spilled into the castle courtyard beneath garlands of wisteria and soft-blooming lanterns. Petals rained from floating silk baskets above the terrace, drifting like slow, fragrant snow across the stone.
Bells chimed from high towers. Laughter echoed from dancing circles. And the air shimmered with sunlight and lilac.
At the center of it all, under a bough of glowing paper lanterns, Elira and Jarell stepped into the courtyard.
She wore a flowing dress the color of new leaves, laced with gold thread that shimmered in motion. He stood tall beside her, dressed in deep green and bronze, his hair gently tousled by the breeze. A breeze Elira might once have feared would ruin her appearance. Now, she let it carry her freely.
The musicians began to play the Spring Waltz of Floravere, and as they joined the first dance, the crowd's attention drifted toward them.
They danced slowly. Not for spectacle, but for each other.
Elira's hand rested in Jarell's, her other on his shoulder. His arm around her waist was steady but never possessive. Their eyes stayed locked, their steps unhurried. The world spun gently around them—rose petals at their feet, lantern light above their heads, and a rare kind of joy in her expression.
On the terrace above the court, Lucien stood in silence.
He gripped the railing with pale knuckles. Petals caught in his dark coat, unnoticed. His gaze was fixed on them—not just Elira, but Jarell too. The way she leaned into him. The way she laughed without fear. How her shoulders no longer curled in on themselves when someone approached from behind.
She never looked at me like that, he thought bitterly. Even when she loved me.
He said nothing. But inside, something cracked.
Axellan, who had been standing behind him for some time, finally spoke.
"She looks happy."
Lucien didn't answer.
"You said you still loved her," Axellan continued, voice calm. "If that's true, Lucien… then set her free."
Lucien turned to him, eyes dark and hollow.
"You think I haven't tried?"
"Trying is not the same as letting go."
As the music ended, the dancers bowed.
Jarell offered Elira his hand, and she curtsied with a glow in her cheeks she hadn't worn in years.
They stepped away from the circle, smiling to one another, when Marienne moved in without a word—seamlessly, like part of the dance itself.
Her eyes flicked upward, where Lucien still stood at the edge of the stone balcony, staring down like a ghost watching a life he no longer belonged to.
She tilted her chin ever so slightly—challenging. Daring.
Then she moved between Elira and the courtyard's open path, turning just enough to block Lucien's direct line to her friend.
A soft smile on her lips.A warning in her stance.
Lucien didn't descend.He couldn't.
And the petals kept falling.