Chapter 77: The Fair

Silence stretched between them, until seconds felt like minutes. And with every passing one, Lucrezia could feel the rise of hairs on her skin, and apprehension within her chest.

Vespera didn’t answer at once. Her hand, which had been resting so easily against Purity’s neck, stilled, and the white mare shifted faintly beneath her touch, sensing the change before Lucrezia fully registered it.

The wind moved through the yard in a thin, cutting breath, until finally, she turned, and with something close to uncertainty, “You worry for him,” She said at last. Lucrezia felt the question or observation somehow… impossible.

She swallowed. There was no point denying it. “Yes,” the admission felt heavier out loud, which felt very foreign to her.

Vespera exhaled slowly, her breath turning to mist between them, and replied. “Vaeron does not break easily,”

That didn’t sound like a comfort. Not quite, and Lucrezia’s fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her coat. “That is not the same as saying he is… well,”

A flicker of approval, perhaps, crossed Vespera’s expression before it was carefully veiled. “No, it is not,” She said, and silence stretched again, quite different from the earlier stillness.

A weight of something she knew was better left unsaid. However, every inch of her wanted to feed her curiosity and dabble in her concern that grew each passing second.

Lucrezia tried to imagine him in a better condition, but having witnessed the previous ordeal before vertigo won over her, distracted by that illusion.

He is well. He has to be well.

“The phases were not simple,” Vespera continued, earning her attention. “They are never meant to be. Each is designed to expose something buried within, like truth, weakness, and memories. For gods, that can be… complicated.”

Lucrezia’s heart tightened painfully as she listened attentively. “And if all phases align but one fails?” Her voice came as a whisper, afraid the air itself might carry the question somewhere unwelcome.

At that, Vespera’s gaze finally found hers. “Then a contradiction is born, and a balance that refuses to tip fully toward guilt or innocence. In such cases, the bridge between judgment becomes thin, and the gods are forced to exert another method.”

The words felt too deliberate to be casual, and Lucrezia felt a shiver down her spine “Consequences,” She muttered, unable to imagine the gravity that would befall upon a creature immune to death. “And my husband?” She pressed, knowing the answer yet refusing to accept it.

“He completed them,” Vespera said, and an inaudible sigh escaped her lips. “All but one.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath Lucrezia’s feet. “All but one?” She echoed.

“That does not mean condemnation,” Vespera added swiftly. “It means dispute. And dispute, in our realm, buys time.”

Time, she thought. The word settled like a fragile offering.

Lucrezia’s breath left her in a trembling exhale she had not meant to release. She had not realized how tightly she’d been holding herself together until that moment.

“Then he is not… punished?” she asked carefully.

“Not yet.”

The honesty in Vespera’s tone was both under the favor of mercy and cruelty.

Lucrezia nodded faintly, forcing composure back into her posture. Not yet. That was something. Something she could hold onto without collapsing under it.

Vespera studied her for a long moment. “You care more than you allow yourself to admit,” She said softly. “Something the rumored Lady Anastasia of Veximoor would never have done,”

Oh no.

Unable to react, Lucrezia looked away to hide the heat creeping up her face and cleared her throat softly. “He is my husband,” The title felt unfamiliar still, but it was not false when she said, hoping to all seven gods that it sounded neutral, yet her pulse drummed with an intensity that betrayed the hopeful thought.

Thankfully, Vespera didn’t pry more than that, and Lucrezia felt more than grateful.

A sudden sharp sound like a distant echo of horns from beyond the palace grounds broke the tension. It carried the weight of something celebratory that was felt in the air.

Vespera’s head tilted slightly as she listened. And with a smile, “The winter fair has begun downtown,” She murmured. “They start earlier each year.”

Lucrezia blinked, some of the earlier gravity easing from her shoulders. “A winter fair?”

Vespera nodded. “Markets, performers, artisans,” Vespera continued, and a faint warmth returned to her tone. “Their music loud enough to irritate my eldest brother, tales interesting to dismantle my sisters’ hierarchy, and foods sweet enough to offend the healers…”

Despite herself, Lucrezia smiled faintly. The idea of it all seemed warm enough for her to impossibly ignore.

She’d never been to a fair before. Although, Lucrezia had heard so much about it. The fun, the thrill, the tales… How… unimaginable it was to actually believe a day would come where she would get to experience such.

“… and you look like someone who needs to remember the world exists beyond trials and verdicts,”

Her attention, which had drifted toward the distant sound of horns, snapped back to Vespera, and for a moment, Lucrezia could only stare, pondering on the distinction settled somewhere deep.

The horns sounded again, clearer now, and beneath them came the swell of music—strings and pipes weaving together in bright defiance of winter. Even from this distance, Lucrezia could hear laughter carried on the wind.

Her heightened senses caught more than she expected, with the rhythmic stomp of boots on wood, the crackle of roasting chestnuts, the scrape of a cart wheel against stone, which grazed her hearing like a blade, the clang of metal from a distant stall rang too bright, and the chatter of bargaining voices rising and falling in playful argument.

It sounded… alive, too alive, yet the scratch made her eardrums burn with the effort of containing it.

Hoping to distract herself from the sudden assault of sensation, “Would that be allowed?”

Vespera’s mouth curved slightly at her question and said with a backward glance, “Allowed is such a rigid word,” and her gaze drifted toward the palace walls rising behind them. “You are not a prisoner, Ana. You’re safer here than you can imagine,”

The words were meant as reassurance but they didn’t entirely feel like it. It was the exact opposite of being safer.

Before Lucrezia could question further, Vespera stepped toward Purity and checked the saddle straps with practiced efficiency. “You asked about riding,” She said lightly. “Consider this your first lesson.”

Lucrezia’s eyes widened. “W-What-Now?”

“Now,” Vespera confirmed. “Before you have time to invent excuses. Do you really think we use carriages as a means of transportation?” She moved to the saddlebag and withdrew a folded shawl, darker than Lucrezia’s own coat, thick enough to shield against the wind. Its edges are threaded with subtle silver patterns. “For you,”

Lucrezia accepted it carefully. “It isn’t… that cold.” And she was clearly on a coat thick enough to shield her from the brutality of the weather.

“It is not for warmth,” Vespera said gently and leaned in slightly to whisper, “A disguise,”

At Lucrezia’s confusion, she stepped closer and draped the fabric over her shoulders herself, pulling part of it loosely over her hair, shadowing the upper half of her face.

“In the palace, you are watched, measured, interpreted,” She explained evenly, so close Lucrezia could smell the rich scent of lilies emanating from her. “And in town, you may choose to be unseen.”

She adjusted the fold slightly.

“Anonymity is a rare pleasure that allows you to exist without expectation, and sometimes, being unknown is far more enjoyable than being recognized,” she added and Lucrezia absorbed that.

For the first time since arriving in Blackvale, she felt partially unburdened by a name.

Vespera mounted Purity in one smooth motion, then extended her hand downward.

“Come.”

Lucrezia’s pulse jumped not from fear, but from the unfamiliarity of surrendering control to movement she did not understand, and she stepped forward anyway.

Her boot found the stirrup with Vespera’s guidance after a brief adjustment. For a breathless second, she felt suspended between earth and sky until she settled behind her. It was awkward, although not steady enough to ground her weight that she thought she might fall with one step.

The height startled her. The world looked different from here. Wider.

Vespera reached back and adjusted Lucrezia’s hands gently around her waist. “Hold here,” Vespera instructed. “Not too tight. If you do so, tension travels, and horses feel it,”

Lucrezia nodded, and exhaled slowly, adjusting her grip.

Purity shifted beneath them. Her muscles coiled with quiet readiness, as a sign of preparation. “Ready?” Vespera asked.

No.

But Lucrezia nodded anyway. And with the slightest pressure of heel and rein, Purity began to move.

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