I didn’t know what the queen was on, but whatever it was, I wanted some. By the next morning, she had completely finished organizing the party, sending out invitations, and ordering the servants around to set up for the festive evening. No matter how many times I had offered my assistance, she always just laughed in her sweet tone and told me to just sit back and relax.  

But relaxing turned out to be something I struggled to do. Gavril had instructed me to come to his study in the evening, so until then, all I had to do was entertain myself. Any grown woman would find this menial task very easy and simple and not at all as challenging as I did.  

It seemed that Endymion was avoiding me. Probably for the best, but it still made my heart heavy with a strange sort of sadness. Ophia had offered with her contagious optimism to show me around the palace grounds after she finished with her studies around four in the afternoon, promising with a beautiful smile not to be late.  

And so, with nothing to do, I dressed in casual attire, tied my curls back, and set out to explore more of Paristol while I could.  

While graduated witches could leave their marsh whenever they wanted, they preferred to stay close to where they knew they were accepted. There were villages and small towns that housed witches, of course, but they were few and very far between. I was yet to take my final exam to become a fully-fledged witch, an honor that came with the responsibility of protecting women like us; the ones preyed on by the creatures suckling on the tit of black magic. Witches who were still in school were not allowed to leave the marsh without a graduated witch, for fear that we would be too weak or too unstable on our own. But I never liked the rules of the marsh much. I had snuck out plenty of times since being initiated into the Cerulean Marsh, but I had never strayed too far. Even before I became a witch, I had seldom left my home by the sea. 

The capitol was bustling with life and sounds and smells that all delighted my senses as I wandered its cobbled streets. The pleasant warmth of the soon-to-be-summer made me sigh in appreciation for a break from the normally chilly weather of the Cerulean Marsh.  

I grinned as music filtered through the air and exotic spices filled my nose, leading me further into the winding depths of Paristol.  

“Gorgeous!” 

The enthusiastic voice and excited arms around my shoulders caught me off guard, but as soon as I had turned enough to look into the familiar shining eyes of the Syli’ti shop owner from a couple of days ago, I breathed out a sigh of recognition.  

“Hello,” I greeted him with a grin as I looked up into his own smiling face, “I’m sorry, but I forgot to ask for your name earlier.” 

He was truly a beautiful man, as most Syli’ti were, with an elegant frame and lightly toned body. His eyes were hooded and his green gaze intoxicating, bringing attention to his slender face and well-defined jaw.  

The tall Syli’ti bowed in an exaggerated manner, tucking a set of arms behind his back while the other set took my hand to lay a gentle kiss upon my fingers.  

“I am called Firr, my love,” when he rose from his bow, his tone became serious and his eyes, searching, “And what may I call you?” 

“Asajj,” Firr’s eyes lit up and a light smile graced his lips, “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you.” 

“And you as well, my lovely Asajj.” 

I was suddenly very glad Endymion was not here with me; he would have surely snapped the other man’s neck in an instant. 

The thought made me chuckle, something Firr took as an invitation to take my arm between two of his.  

“Are you here on an errand?” 

I shook my head, dislodging some of my curls in the process, “Just exploring.” 

He grinned again and started leading me down the cobbled path, “Then will you join me? I promise not to take up too much of your precious time...” 

Firr asked even as we continued weaving through the thin crowd of city dwellers, so I nodded, tucking myself closer to him to avoid running into people.  

We made our past vendors and other shop owners, who all greeted Firr with familiar smiles and pleasantries. 

“It would seem that you are well liked around here, Mr. Firr.” 

The tall Syli’ti chuckled and glanced down at me, “I have lived here for quite a while, lovely Asajj; These people have been my friends and neighbors for the past decade.” 

He led me to his shop, closed in respect for the first few days after the festival, and ushered me inside, snapping his fingers to illuminate the space.  

It was larger than I had previously suspected; the shop was part of a three-story building that also housed Firr’s appartement. Firr showed me around the backroom (where he stored all of his fabrics and unsold garments), the fitting rooms, the display cases, the beautifully decorated racks of clothes.  

“Wow...”  

My eyes were wide, and a smile stained my lips as he concluded the tour, gesturing with all four arms to the expanse of his shop. 

“I’m so glad I ran into you, lovely Asajj,” He grinned and pulled me to one of the fitting rooms, snatching up silks and fabrics that he shoved into my arms, “Truth be told, I have been in love with your figure and grace since the moment you entered my humble store.” 

I stammered as he busied himself around me, measuring my waist and the length of my body with one set of arms, while the other got to work draping fabrics across my front. Firr leaned down, preparing to measure my waist, when the high collar of his shirt shifted, and the edge of a dark green tattoo peeked out. Although I could only see a small portion of it, I knew immediately what it was...every witch did. 

“Firr...” He hummed in reply, encouraging me to continue while he jotted down my measurements, “Are you from the fifth Celadon marsh?”