Chapter 4
Rowan Valebright learned he had made a mistake when the banner went up.
It was bright.
It was enormous.
And it had his name on it.
He stopped walking.
"...Why," he asked calmly, "is my name that large?"
Lila squinted up at the banner strung across the main avenue.
HAPPY UNITY WEEK — HONORING HEROES, FAMILIES, AND NEW BEGINNINGS!
SPECIAL GUESTS: GUILD MASTER ROWAN VALEBRIGHT & LADY LILA VALEBRIGHT
She smiled.
"Oh," she said. "That's new."
Rowan's eye twitched.
Dorian, walking three steps ahead of them, turned around far too cheerfully. "Isn't it festive?"
Rowan stared at him. "You knew."
"I suspected," Dorian corrected. "Strongly."
Lila laughed softly, looping her arm through Rowan's. "It's sweet."
"It's a trap," Rowan muttered.
The city of Eastrun bustled around them, streets lined with ribbons and lanterns, vendors shouting cheerfully, children running with wooden swords and flower crowns. The air smelled like roasted nuts, spiced bread, and something dangerously sugary.
Unity Week.
Rowan vaguely remembered approving this festival years ago.
He had not considered he would one day be featured in it.
"You look tense," Lila said gently.
"I am being observed," Rowan replied.
"Yes," she said. "Together."
"That's worse."
She smiled up at him. "You're doing fine."
A group of townspeople spotted them.
The whispering began instantly.
"That's him—"
"And her—"
"They're married now—"
"She runs the guild—"
"He smiles more—"
Rowan stiffened.
Lila squeezed his arm. "Breathe."
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
"...I would rather fight a dragon."
Dorian nodded sagely. "Crowds are much more unpredictable."
They reached the central square.
The stage was already set.
Rowan stopped again.
"...Why is there a stage."
Dorian blinked. "For the ceremony."
Rowan turned slowly. "Ceremony."
"Yes."
"What ceremony."
Dorian gestured vaguely. "The symbolic reaffirmation of civic bonds, heroic legacy, and—"
Rowan held up a hand. "No."
Lila leaned in. "Is it long?"
Dorian hesitated. "...Define long."
Rowan closed his eyes.
Within minutes, they were ushered backstage.
Someone placed a sash over Rowan's shoulder.
He stared at it.
"...What is this."
"A symbol," a coordinator chirped.
Rowan turned to Lila. "If I rip this, will I be arrested."
She smiled sweetly. "Only socially."
Someone else pressed flowers into Lila's hair.
She blinked. "Oh."
Rowan stared.
"...You look—"
"Careful," she warned, amused.
"...Happy," he finished.
She smiled warmly. "Good answer."
Dorian leaned against a crate, watching with far too much interest.
"I give it five minutes before someone asks when the baby is coming."
Rowan's head snapped toward him. "No one is asking that."
Dorian shrugged. "The city is very invested."
Lila laughed.
Rowan did not.
They stepped onto the stage to thunderous applause.
Rowan froze for exactly half a second—long enough to be noticed by Lila and no one else.
She slipped her fingers into his.
"Look at me," she murmured.
He did.
The crowd blurred.
"...Alright," he said quietly.
They stood together as the mayor launched into a speech full of enthusiasm and very few pauses.
Rowan nodded at appropriate intervals.
Lila waved.
Children cheered.
Someone threw flowers.
Rowan caught one reflexively, crushing the stem.
"...Sorry," he muttered to the flower.
The mayor beamed. "And now, a few words from our beloved Guild Master and his wife!"
Rowan's brain went blank.
"...Words," he echoed.
Lila leaned in. "Short."
Rowan nodded.
He stepped forward.
The crowd quieted.
Rowan cleared his throat.
"I... love this city," he said.
Cheers erupted.
He paused, surprised.
"And I love my wife," he added.
The cheer doubled.
Lila smiled at him, eyes bright.
Rowan felt his chest tighten—not with fear, but with something gentler.
"We will continue to protect Eastrun," Rowan said steadily. "But not alone."
He gestured to Lila.
She stepped forward.
"And not without living in it," she added warmly. "This city is more than battles. It's home."
The applause swelled again.
Dorian wiped at his eyes dramatically.
Rowan glanced back at him. "...Stop."
Dorian sniffed. "I can't."
They were released into the festival afterward like honored prisoners.
Everywhere they went, people stopped them.
Congratulations. Gifts. Blessings.
Someone handed Rowan a basket.
Someone else asked Lila for advice.
Rowan tried to keep up.
"This," he muttered, "is worse than patrol."
Lila laughed. "You're famous."
"I was already famous."
"Yes," she said. "Now you're approachable."
Rowan frowned. "That's alarming."
They stopped at a stall selling candied apples.
Lila picked one up, hesitated, then handed it to Rowan.
"Try," she said.
He took a bite.
Sticky sweetness coated his fingers.
"...This is impractical."
She laughed and leaned in to lick the syrup from his thumb before he could stop her.
Rowan froze.
Dorian choked on air.
Several citizens gasped.
"...Lila," Rowan said weakly.
She smiled innocently. "What?"
Dorian pointed. "You can't do that in public!"
Rowan found his voice. "Yes. Please continue."
Dorian recoiled. "I regret everything."
As afternoon wore on, Rowan felt it again.
That distant pull.
Not danger.
Just... awareness.
He glanced toward the edge of the square.
For a moment, he thought he saw someone watching.
Then the crowd shifted.
The feeling faded.
Lila noticed his pause.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he said after a beat. "...Yes."
She studied him, then nodded.
"Good," she said. "Because you're about to dance."
He stared. "I am not."
The music struck up.
Dorian grinned. "You absolutely are."
Rowan sighed.
"...Marriage is difficult."
Lila laughed and pulled him forward.
And for now, the city celebrated.
The problem with festivals, Rowan Valebright decided, was that they encouraged optimism.
Optimism led to games.
Games led to volunteers.
Volunteers led to Rowan being handed a wooden sword by a man half his age and twice as enthusiastic.
"Guild Master!" the man said brightly. "Care to demonstrate?"
Rowan stared at the sword.
"...Demonstrate what."
"Heroic technique!" the man replied.
Rowan looked at Lila.
She smiled sweetly. "Don't break anything."
"That is very vague," Rowan said.
Dorian appeared instantly. "I will be judging."
"No," Rowan and Lila said together.
Dorian recoiled. "You're doing it again."
The crowd gathered anyway, because crowds always did.
Rowan took the sword. It was lighter than he expected. Poorly balanced. Splintered.
"...This is unsafe," he said.
"That's what makes it exciting!" someone shouted.
Rowan sighed and adopted a basic stance.
The volunteer lunged.
Rowan stepped aside and gently tapped the man's shoulder with the flat of the blade.
The man froze.
Then fell over.
The crowd erupted.
Rowan blinked. "...He tripped."
"No he didn't!" someone yelled. "That was incredible!"
Dorian gasped. "Did you see that form?"
Rowan lowered the sword. "I barely moved."
"Yes," Dorian said reverently. "That's the problem."
More volunteers surged forward.
Rowan raised a hand. "No."
They ignored him.
Lila stepped in front of him smoothly.
"Alright," she said brightly. "That's enough heroics."
Boos erupted.
Rowan felt something in his shoulder twinge.
Just a little.
He stiffened.
Lila noticed immediately.
Her smile didn't change, but her hand slid back to his arm.
"Done," she said, still cheerful. "He's already won."
The crowd groaned but dispersed, satisfied.
Dorian frowned. "You stopped them."
"Yes," Lila said. "Before he broke the festival."
Rowan exhaled quietly.
"...Thank you."
She squeezed his arm. "You're welcome."
Dorian squinted at Rowan. "You okay?"
"Yes," Rowan said automatically.
Lila pinched him.
"...I'm fine," Rowan amended. "But done."
Dorian nodded solemnly. "Retirement energy."
Rowan glared. "Careful."
It got worse.
Because the city had decided Rowan and Lila were no longer people.
They were symbols.
A woman thrust a ribbon at them. "Tie this together!"
A man bowed. "Bless our union!"
A child asked if Rowan slept in his armor.
"No," Rowan said quickly.
Dorian leaned in. "Sometimes."
Rowan glared. "Never."
Lila laughed. "Rarely."
Rowan sighed. "Betrayed."
They were ushered toward a dance circle.
Rowan stopped.
"...I do not dance."
"Yes you do," Dorian said.
"I do not."
"You danced at your wedding."
"That was a trap."
The music swelled.
Hands pushed them forward.
Lila took Rowan's hands.
"Slow," she murmured. "Follow me."
Rowan nodded stiffly.
They moved.
Awkwardly at first.
Rowan's steps were careful, measured — like he was bracing for impact.
Then Lila laughed.
He relaxed.
The tension eased.
The crowd faded again.
Just them.
"You're thinking," she whispered.
"Yes."
"About what."
"...Where to put my feet."
She smiled. "Try trusting me."
He did.
The dance wasn't elegant.
But it was warm.
And Rowan smiled without meaning to.
Dorian watched from the edge, eyes shining.
"...I hate how wholesome this is."
The incident happened an hour later.
Naturally.
It began with shouting.
Then a crash.
Then Dorian yelling, "IT'S FINE."
Rowan turned instantly.
Lila was already moving.
They reached the far end of the square where a vendor's stand had collapsed under the weight of overenthusiastic patrons.
No fire.
No panic.
Just confusion.
Rowan stepped forward to lift a beam.
It moved.
Then his shoulder protested sharply.
He froze.
Lila was there immediately.
"Rowan," she said quietly.
"I have it," he replied, jaw tight.
She didn't argue.
She simply stepped beside him and took some of the weight.
The beam lifted.
The vendor scrambled free, shaken but unharmed.
The crowd cheered again.
Rowan lowered the beam carefully.
His arm trembled.
He clenched his fist, annoyed.
Dorian noticed.
"...Hey," he said softly.
Rowan straightened. "I'm fine."
Lila's hand slipped into his.
"Later," she said gently.
He nodded.
They escaped the festival just before sunset.
Not ran — escaped.
They found a quiet hill overlooking the city, lanterns glowing below like scattered stars.
Rowan sat heavily on the grass.
"...I am," he admitted, "tired."
Lila sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
He exhaled.
"I know."
She traced a slow circle on the back of his hand.
"You didn't push," she said.
"I wanted to."
"I know."
"You stopped me."
"Yes."
He smiled faintly. "You're very good at that."
She smiled back. "You're very bad at resting."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Rowan spoke again.
"...Do you ever worry?"
She looked up at him. "About what."
"That I'll... break."
She studied his face carefully.
"No," she said. "I worry you'll refuse to bend."
He nodded.
"That's fair."
She leaned in and kissed him — slow, grounding, private.
Below them, the festival continued without them.
For the first time, Rowan didn't feel guilty.
Dorian found them eventually, of course.
He always did.
"There you are," he said, flopping onto the grass nearby. "The city has decided you're officially lucky."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "We survived."
"Barely," Dorian replied. "Also someone asked if the chicken would officiate future weddings."
Lila laughed.
Rowan groaned. "I'm burning the festival charter."
Dorian grinned. "I kept a copy."
They sat together, watching the lights.
"...You're different," Dorian said quietly.
Rowan nodded. "I hope so."
Dorian smiled. "Good. Because the world's still strange."
Rowan looked out over the city.
"Yes," he said. "But not tonight."
Lila squeezed his hand.
And for now, that was enough.