ARTIZEA
THE EVENING HOUR WAS NIGH. Artizea stood on her balcony,stepping back to study her work with a critical eye, dabbing the finishing strokes on her latest painting (a cover-up for her plan). The room had a soft, golden hue as the sun commenced its descent, covering the vibrant hue of the painted blossoms. Satisfied, she set her brush aside and began cleaning her palette, humming softly to herself. Until a faint fluttering sound caught her attention.
Artizea turned, her gaze falling on a small sparrow perched on the open windowsill. The bird tilted its head. Its beady eyes were watching her intently. "And who are you?" she smiled, wiping her hands on a cloth.
The sparrow chirped in response, gliding down from the sill, revealing a tainted feather. The bird landed on the table where her brushes and paints were scattered.
"Definitely, not a demon…" Artizea murmuring to herself, she watched in amusement as it pecked curiously at a brush, then hopped toward a small jar of blue paint. "Careful," she warned gently, reaching out as the bird tipped the jar slightly with its beak. "You will get paint all over yourself." The sparrow ignored her, hopping to another brush and tugging at its handle with surprising determination. She laughed softly, the sound light and melodic. "You are quite the troublemaker, aren't you?" She managed to take away the brush and moved her hand away, gently setting the brush down.
Artizea slowly reached toward the sparrow, her movements calm, and to her surprise, the bird did not shy away. Instead, it stepped onto her outstretched hand, its tiny claws tickling her skin. She brought it closer, studying it with curiosity. She had never seen a bird as quick as him, it was a him, right? She went to check, but before she could, the sparrow hopped off her hand and onto the table again. It grabbed the bristle in its beak and dropped it onto her palette. She could not tell if it was throwing a tantrum or trying to help her clean up.
"Are you here to be my assistant?" Artizea finally said.
It chirped again. It even managed to nudge one of her brushes toward her when she reached for it. She spent the next few minutes watching the little bird stomp around her workspace, occasionally jumping on spots she missed. "Thank you," she said, humoring the bird. Then caught herself, she was talking to a bird.
At that moment, the sun dipped lower in the sky, realizing the time, she quickly tore off her painting tunic and replaced it with another, all part of the plan, yes. She needed to make it look as realistic as possible.
The bird perched on the edge of her easel, watching her with a slant. She almost fell forward about her guest, and the fact that she basically stripped for a bird, but thankfully, he was just a bird.
"Apologies for being a terrible hostess. I will have some crumbs for you to take home tomorrow," she told the sparrow while gripping the knob of the window.
With a playful chirp, he fluttered back to the canvas as if refusing to leave.
Artizea shook her head in amusement, "Fine, have it your way, you are mine now. To paint for eternity," The bird swayed, making her chuckle. "I tried to warn you." She smiled at the little bird that had brought a spark of joy to her afternoon.
Its sharp black eyes watched her for another moment, then fluttered to the window and took flight, soaring into the sky with purpose.
"Safe travels," she said, grabbing her shawl before heading to her main chamber.
Behind her, Madeline, her maid and confidante, quickly snuck in a sheet, and within it, A disguise. A simple shawl, light and embroidered with small, delicate flowers—distinctly Elaine's, and perfectly suited for blending into the bustling city streets.
"It is perfect," Artizea said, now standing before her mirror, adjusting her disguise. It was not much, but it would be enough to blend in among the people of the city.
Madeline carefully pinned Artizea's hair into a simple low ponytail. She had been in the Crown Princess's service for years, and though she was technically a servant, their bond had grown into friendship. Artizea trusted her implicitly, often sharing thoughts and secrets she could never voice to her family.
"You are sure about this, my lady?" Madeline asked concernedly.
"Positive," Artziea replied firmly. "I need this, one night where I am not the Crown Princess or the king's daughter."
Madeline sighed, "The city is not always kind, especially during festivals," stepping back to inspect her work. "I wish you would allow me to escort you."
"I will be more than fine having Eric with me," Artizea said with a small smile.
Madeline hesitated, her hands brushing the edge of the shawl. "He's a good man," she said softly, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue.
"I know," Artizea confirmed.
"But…"
Artizea paused, catching the flicker of emotion in Madeline's voice. She turned to face her friend. "Are you okay, Maddie?"
Madeline hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile. "It is Nothing," but her heart sank further with every piece of gathered garment she retrieved from the floor.
Artizea placed a hand on Madeline's shoulder. "You worry too much, M. Why don't you take the day off too?"
"I should stay, in case I need to improvise your absence," Madeline said while giving a genuine smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes.
Artizea sighed, "Very well, I will be back before the hour of nigh."
Madeline nodded, forcing another smile upon her departure.
Artizea fastened the shawl around her shoulders and pulled a hood over her head, making her way to the stables. She stumbled slightly, looking at her unlaced boots. She sighed again and crunched down, struggling to finish tying the laces on her shoes. Not noticing, Elaine leaned casually against the stable door, her sapphire eyes glimmering with curiosity.
"Going somewhere, sister?"
Artizea froze like a deer in headlights, then reluctantly turned with a knowing smile. "You tell me, Expert on sneaking off."
Elaine stepped into the light, inspecting her sister's disguise with a playful grin. "Hmm, it is not bad, but you walk too upright. Too… Princess-cy," She mimicked her sister's regal stride before bursting into laughter.
Artizea rolled her eyes. "I will keep that in mind. Now, about the shawl–"
"Do I know the person?" Elaine interrupted, tilting her head.
She hesitated, her cheeks warming slightly. "You might have seen him once or twice."
Elaine's smile widened. "Ah." She circled her sister like a hawk. "Let me guess… tall, brooding, member of the knighthood?"
She flustered while crossing her arms. "Are you going to help me or interrogate me?"
Elaine giggled, grabbing her sister's shoulders. "Relax, of course, I will help. But you owe me the full story later. In every detail, Deal?"
Artizea nodded, "Deal," though a small smile tugged at her lips.
Elaine quickly adjusted the hem that had been bothering her the entire conversation, then adjusted the hood of the shawl, ensuring her sister's features were covered. "Alright, you are ready."
"Thank you." She paused, unable to stop the next words from spilling out. "He makes me feel… free. Like I am seen for once."
Elaine nodded, her teasing demeanor slipping into something more thoughtful. "I will buy you extra time," she winked, "Go. Have fun."
Artizea gave her sister a grateful smile before slipping out of the stables.
The streets were alive with energy. Lanterns of every color and size lined the roads, waiting for an owner. Musicians played lively tunes on street corners, their melodies weaving through the chatter and laughter of festival-goers. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and spices from distant lands.
Artizea carefully navigated through the many groups, looking around to take in the sights and sounds. Beneath the modest hood, her heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was her first festival among the people, her people, as something other than the Crown Princess of Babyloniyah. Her disguise worked perfectly. No one gave her another look while she continued her quest to search for Eric.
"Over here," a familiar voice called.
She turned to see him standing beneath a lantern post, his armor exchanged for a simple tunic and trousers. He looked relaxed, almost unrecognizable without the rigid posture of a royal knight, and surprisingly dear, she said, as Handsome as a lord.
When he saw her, his face lit up with a smile."You made it," he said, closing the distance.
"Of course," Artizea replied, pulling her hood down slightly.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You look… different."
"Good different or bad different?" she teased.
"Good," he said quickly. "Very good."
For a moment, they stood there, unsure of what to make of the newly found tension. Then he breaks the silence, "Follow me, there's much to see, Crown Princess," gesturing for her to follow him, to which she gladly obliged.
They began to weave through the bustling streets together, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm. Musicians played lively tunes on street corners, and dancers twirled in brightly colored costumes. Children ran around with sparklers, their laughter echoing above the music.
She smiled, "It is magical."
"Have you been to the festival before?" Eric asked, gesturing toward a nearby square where music was playing.
"A few times," Artizea admitted, glancing at the colorful stalls, outfits, and endless joy. "But never like this." She added with a smile.
Eric met her eyes briefly. "Never with someone like me?"
She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed. "No." She muttered.
"Well then," he said with a grin while extending his hand to her. "Allow me the honor, Crown Princess."
Artizea hesitated for only a moment, then looked up at him, locked in this time. "Artizea," she said quietly, placing her hand in his, "Just… Artizea, Tonight."
Eric nodded once, his grin tempering into something gentler. "Artizea," he repeated.
Together, they melted into the people, gliding through the lively streets. As they wandered further, the music shifted to a lively tune, and Artizea felt herself pulled toward the sound.
"I am the assassin, Catch me if you can!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the throng of people.
"Why do I feel like I am going to regret this?" he muttered, before setting off after her, his eyes scanning for the familiar shawl and crimson gaze. His heart pounded, a mixture of the chase and something else entirely—an unspoken thrill that only she could inspire. For a moment, he thought he saw her. A figure with a shawl turned toward him, and his breath caught. But while he approached, the woman turned fully, revealing her inhumanly oversized chest.
"Looking for someone, love?" the concubine asked, amused.
Eric grinned nervously, stepping back. "Sorry, wrong person."
From behind him, a soft giggle broke through the music. He froze, his shoulders tensing while he turned slowly. There she was, standing a few paces away with a playful smirk on her lips. "You are terrible at this," Artizea teased, her hands clasped behind her back.
Eric shook his head, grinning despite himself. "You are lucky I let you win."
"Let me?" she echoed, arching an elegant brow. "You are delusional."
Before Eric could respond, the lively strains of a festival tune filled the air. The square was alive with energy, the sound of drums and strings weaving together into an intoxicating melody. People of all ages danced in a circle, their movements joyful and uninhibited. He hesitated for only a moment before speaking,
"I do not think I ever had a chance to dance with you at any of those balls," he said, holding out his hand.
"I do not know…" she said hesitantly, glancing at the swaying couples, spinning to the music. "What if someone sees?"
Sensing her uneasiness, he gave her a beaming smile that would make a priestess give up her vows. "No one here knows who you are," he said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. "For once, you can just be…. Artizea"
His words struck deeper than he realized, and after a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand in his. The two of them moved toward the square, where couples spun and twirled beneath the lanterns. He led her into the circle; their movements were tentative at first, but as soon as they found the rhythm, the music took over, then faded in and out while the space between them grew impossibly small.
Artizea found herself laughing while he spun her around, his grip steady around her waist as their movements slowed. "You are a natural," she teased, while Eric spun her in his arms.
Eric smirked, his eyes twinkling. "You think a knight does not know how to dance?"
Artizea rolled her eyes but could not suppress a failing smile. "I think a knight spends more time marching than waltzing."
"Fair enough," Eric said, pulling her closer, his hazel eyes darkening. "And what about you, Princesses?"
"What about us?" she inquired.
His hand tightened slightly on her waist, his other moving to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. "Are they as breathtaking as you?"
Artizea's breath hitched at his words, the intensity in his gaze stealing the air from her lungs. The song slowed, and so did they, their breaths mingling while they swayed together. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her dangerously closer. Their noses nearly touching, their eyes locked in a silent dance with each other.
"I should let you go," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.
"You should," she responded, half pleading, half daring.
"But I will not." He stated. "Not unless you tell me to."
Their lips hovered, a whisper apart, the air between them charged.
And then, as if drawn by an unseen force, he kissed her. It was not hurried. She melted into him, her fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepened. Oblivious to the cheering around them, they cheered with whistles and clapped, lost in themselves and each other's laughter.
"You have caught me," she giggled.
"I have caught you," he whispered.
The lights sparkling around them were forgotten while they stayed in the moment, two hearts beating as one, leaving only the music, the laughter, and the warmth of Eric's hand in hers.
"I have a surprise for you," entwining his hand with hers, his grin ever-present while he guided Artizea past vendors and performers."There's a fortune teller here who's… different," he said, excitement in his voice. "I heard she helped an infertile woman have twins."
Artizea grimaced at the thought of fertility; it is bad enough that the council had yearly checks, but at the same time, she often wondered how a child would look with his hazel eyes. Snapping out of her thoughts, she managed to say, "You are wasting your coin."
"Trust me," He replied with a wink.
Artizea rolled her eyes and sighed, then her gaze fell further down the street, nestled in the shadow of a crumbling stone pillar, sat a woman and her child. The mother clutched the boy to her chest, her expression hollow. The child, thin and weary, held his stomach, his little fingers digging into the fabric of her dress.
Eric slowed beside her. "This part of the city…" he shook his head, jaw tightening. "It breaks my heart every time."
Artizea's steps slowed. Her breath caught. "There are more?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Eric nodded grimly.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward. "Wait here," she murmured.
Kneeling before the mother and child, she shed the weight of her title. In that moment, she was just a woman with a heart and hands that could help.
"Here," she said softly, breaking the skewer of meat she had not yet touched and placing it gently in the mother's trembling palms.
The woman stared at her, stunned. Tears welled in her eyes, but no words came.
Artizea reached into her cloak, fingers brushing the small pouch she always carried. She placed it discreetly in the woman's lap.
"It is not much," she murmured, "but it should help. Feed him. Rest. Get off the streets, just for a little while."
Artizea smiled warmly, patting the boy's head softly before standing to rejoin Eric, who had been watching her with curiosity and admiration.
"You have a kind heart," he said.
Artizea smiled faintly, "It is my responsibility to care for my people."
Eric's expression softened, and he nodded,
They reached a small tent tucked away from the main thoroughfare, its entrance draped with deep red fabric. Inside, the scent of herbs and wax candles filled the air. At the center of the room sat an older woman, her eyes clouded with blindness, but her presence sharp and unsettling. Despite her condition, her movements were deliberate, as if she could see everything and more.
"Come in," the woman said, her voice raspy but commanding. "I have been expecting you."
Eric hesitated for a moment, taken aback. "But… you cannot see."
The woman turned her head sharply in his direction. Tsk, she snapped, silencing him with the weight of her tone. "Sit."
Artizea raised an eyebrow but obeyed, settling into the chair opposite the fortune teller. Eric joined her, still skeptical, but curious.
The woman reached for a worn deck of cards, shuffling them with deft fingers. She sniffed the air, then laid out the first card, her movements purposeful, and when she flipped it, her lips curled into a knowing smile. She sniffed the card deeply, her nostrils flaring, and then spoke. "Two Souls," she said, "One breeds Fire… and the other bores Wrath, A dragon…"
Artizea leaned forward.
"and a midnight dove."
"But that does not make sense—" Eric frowned.
"Silence—" the woman snapped again.
This time showing the card. On it was the image of lightning intertwined by flames. Artizea's breath caught. Something about the card made her uneasy, as if it knew more about her than she wished to admit.
The fortune teller drew the second card, sniffing it with a sharp inhale. "They will burn brighter than the stars," she intoned, flipping it over. The card showed a constellation of stars, glowing faintly in the dim light of the tent.
Eric's skeptical gaze peered toward Artizea.
The fortune teller leaned forward for the final card, her hands trembling slightly to grasp it. This time, she sniffed so hard that blood trickled from her nose, staining the card before she spoke. "Or destroy everything in their path," she whispered. holding up the final card. It showed the flames around them consumed a crumbling world.
Artizea stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the wooden floor. "I have heard enough," she said, her voice tight.
The fortune teller leaned back, dabbing her bleeding nose with a cloth. "The cards never lie, child," she said, her tone almost pitiful. "Beware of the fire within."
Eric stood as well,
"Ahem," the old lady coughed.
He paid her, then followed Artizea out of the tent, his expression uneasy. "I am sorry—"
"Just drop it," Artizea said softly, her hands clenched into fists. Her thoughts were too consumed by the images on the cards. Unable to shake the feeling that the fortune teller had seen something she did not yet understand.
Eric hesitated, then sighed. "Let me make it up to you," he said softly. "Please."
She looked at him in curiosity.