[Filafelia’s POV]
I stole another glance at Gale’s back as we walked. The flow of his mana was... bizarre. It wasn’t structured like a witch’s, with clean, channeled streams. It didn’t radiate from a core like a witch’s or a werewolf’s latent energy. It seed to swirl around him, faint and restless, like a breeze that couldn’t decide on a direction, sotis flaring briefly like a struck match before settling back into that strange, ambient hum. How did soone with such an odd mana signature end up traveling with Prince Ace, General Ray, Ann, and Lady Ovelia?
I wanted to ask him about the sealed elental mana stone he’d bought at the keychain stall. Maybe he’d changed his mind about selling it. But the mory of that sudden, wordless gust of wind that had shoved back made hesitate. He might just do it again. Thinking about that wind... he hadn’t used an incantation. Hadn’t woven a spell-circle. He’d just... willed the air to move. Was he an elf in disguise, just denying it? Or... a fairy? No, that was just children’s stories, and fairies are tiny. Thinking about it was going to give a headache.
"Any other information, Fila?" Prince Ace’s voice pulled from my spiraling thoughts.
I closed my eyes briefly, shutting out the festival’s visual noise to focus. The black magic restraints were the main issue, and we’d covered that. The new sleep-aid potion I was tweaking wasn’t relevant. The only other projects...
"No... sorry," I said, opening my eyes. "But Master and I finished the special fabric project we’ve been working on! It’s essential for werewolves. And the storage rings are ready, too—useful for anyone with mana to manage. We submitted the final schematics and samples to the palace three days ago."
"Special fabric and storage rings?" Lady Ovelia asked. Her voice was soft, curious. I looked at her, and those red eyes caught again. They weren’t just red; they had depth, like looking into a glass of rich wine held up to a fire. They were alive. I found myself staring, fascinated.
Suddenly, she looked worried, probably because I was staring. I snapped back to myself. "Oh! Right, the special fabric and storage ring." I gave her my best reassuring smile. "I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but when you get back to the palace, I’m sure soone will brief you on them. They’re really useful!"
She smiled back, a warm, gentle expression that made feel instantly better. "Thank you," she said.
"You’re welco!" I chirped, my earlier professional stiffness lting away.
"Fila, Thank you for continuing to create items that help the kingdom," General Ray said. Then, he reached over and patted my head. My brain short-circuited.
My heart hamred against my ribs so violently I thought it might crack them. My face felt like it was on fire. "You... you’re... you’re welco," I stamred, staring fixedly at a crack in the cobblestones. "Master and I are just doing our job as the Royal Artificers of Silverhowl. Inventing useful things and gathering field intel... it’s what we do." I forced the words out, hoping my voice wasn’t shaking as much as my hands were.
He removed his hand. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to will my pulse back to a normal rhythm.
"I can see another ga stall ahead," Ann observed, pointing down the lane toward a cluster of brightly colored lanterns.
"B-by the way, I need to go," I said, seizing the opportunity. "I’m not done looking for my ingredients."
"Why not co with us?" Gale’s voice was a dry, sarcastic drawl from up ahead. He didn’t even turn around. "Make a fuss again, be a bookie. Help increase my spina so more."
A part of was tempted. The thrill of organizing that wager, the roar of the crowd, the clink of coins—it was fun. "I’d love to join and increase my funding for ingredients," I said, putting my hands on my hips and addressing his back. "But I’m not here just to have fun." I walked a few quick steps to get beside him and looked up, eting his gray eyes directly. I gave him my most persuasive smile. "Why don’t you just sell that sealed elental mana stone instead? Then I could afford to be a full-ti bookie at the next stall."
"Not gonna happen," he said flatly, finally looking down at . "Just go away already, Fizzer." He made a shooing motion as if I were a fly with his free hand, the one not clutching the fairy stuffed toy.
So grumpy. So rude.
"Umm, we’re also leaving tonight," Lady Ovelia said, her voice kind. "Why not co with us? We could all return to the kingdom together."
Oh, she’s so nice too.
"Thanks, Lady Ov—" I caught myself just in ti, rembering their disguises. "Thank you," I corrected, "but Master and I are going ho together when she gets back." I smiled at her to show I appreciated the offer. She nodded understandingly.
"Fila," Prince Ace said, his voice quieter now. "Tell my mother I’m... doing fine. And that I want her to et Ovelia."
The request, delivered with such uncharacteristic softness, felt heavy. I nodded, my expression turning serious. "She’ll get the ssage."
"Take care, Fila," General Ray said, and he smiled at again.
It was like Cupid’s arrow had just been dug out of my heart, polished, and shot right back into it with twice the force. I felt dizzy.
I looked at Ann. She just gave a small, solemn nod and a faint smile. I wished, not for the first ti, that she had ti to give more dagger-fighting lessons. Wands and alchemical rods were Master’s preference, but they always felt clumsy in my small hands.
My gaze flicked one last ti to Mr. Mystery. He was just staring straight ahead, already walking again as if our conversation was a boring interlude he’d endured.
"Thank you, and take care, everyone," I said, giving a final, bright smile to the group. Then I turned to my left, onto a narrower side path that led toward the village’s herbalist quarter, and walked away from them.
I am Filafelia, ten years old, apprentice to the Witch-Queen. I reminded myself, straightening my oversized cloak. Ti to get back to work and find the powdered moon-moss and the fresh heartleaf to stabilize the age-alteration potion’s secondary effects.
I’d taken about fifteen steps when a sudden, perfectly vertical gust of wind burst directly in front of my face, rustling my hair and making blink. It wasn’t harsh, just... present. As the air settled, I looked down. There, sitting neatly on a clean patch of cobblestone, was a single, wrapped honey-drop candy.
I knelt and picked it up. The wax paper was slightly warm. Unfolding it, I saw two words scrawled in a quick, slanted hand on the inside of the wrapper: "Fizzer"
Where had he gotten this? My head whipped around, looking back down the main lane toward his retreating form. He was walking with the others, that ridiculous fairy stuffed toy still dangling from his hand, his posture still slouched and grumpy as he said sothing to Prince Ray. Then, as if feeling my stare, he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes t mine across the distance. For a split second, the perpetual scowl vanished, replaced by a faint, unmistakable smirk. Then he turned away, his grumpy persona sliding back into place as he rejoined the conversation.
I looked down at the candy in my palm. I was supposed to be annoyed, right? He’d called a nickna I hated and thrown candy at like I was a pigeon.
But...
I unwrapped it and popped the honey-drop into my mouth. The sweetness exploded on my tongue, rich and warm. An involuntary, completely inappropriate giggle bubbled up. I stifled it, turning back toward the direction I needed to go. But I couldn’t resist. I stuck my tongue out in the general direction of the grumpy Mr. Mystery, even though he was no longer looking.
I caught one last glimpse of him as their group rounded a corner. He’d seen it. His shoulders shook once, silently, and I saw the barest hint of a real smile before he was gone.
No, no, no, no! I ntally scolded myself, stomping my boot on the ground. My crush is for General Ray and General Ray only! That handso-ugly, grumpy, candy-tossing mystery is just a source of professional curiosity and occasional wind-based assaults! Nothing more!
I took a deep, resolving breath, puffing out my cheeks.
Serious mode: ON!
Back to work!
I marched down the side street, the taste of honey lingering on my tongue, a confusing, sweet counterpoint to my very determined scowl.
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