Of Burgundy And Blue

She stepped in gracefully, settling into the seat across from the Grand Princess.

“Hopefully your stay has been pleasant so far, Princess,” Princess Jasmine said, her voice soft but clear. “We regret not meeting you sooner—our mother was away, and I hope the delay hasn’t come across as discourtesy.”

“Certainly not. I’m honored to be in your presence,” Nyra replied gently, her tone steady with quiet confidence.

“Have the princes shown you around?” the Grand Princess asked, her gaze unwavering.

“Yes, Your Highness. They’ve been gracious hosts,” Nyra answered with a slight nod.

The Grand Princess inclined her head in approval. “There is a ball tomorrow evening. If you don’t mind, I shall serve as your chaperone,” she said, her words firm and her eyes keen with unspoken meaning.

“I would be grateful for that, Your Highness,” Nyra responded with poise. The conversation drifted gently through the room—not warm, but not tense either, balanced on the edge of formality and curiosity. Before long, the three ladies excused themselves, citing the need for rest. Not so scary, right?” Jade grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Nyra gave a small shake of her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"You should lighten up too, then my brother would accompany you to Emberstone market," Jade said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Nyra tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "You aren’t accompanying along?"

"Why would I accompany you on your date?" Jade countered with a smirk.

"Date?" Nyra repeated, her brows lifting in surprise.

"Yes, date." Jade said, his expression completely serious.

***

Nyra glanced at the attires her maid had laid out. Jade’s offhanded “date” echoed in her ears. After a moment’s thought, she selected the deep burgundy outfit. She wore a day dress with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt, the fabric catching the light with quiet elegance. Subtle embroidery adorned the cuffs and hem, and a thin leather belt cinched her waist with practiced ease. Soft leather boots grounded the look, while a silver bracelet glistened at her wrist. Her hair was half up, half down, a single moon blossom nestled within—just like the one Izana had once placed in her hair.

Izana’s attendant came to escort her, and together they walked the long corridor until they reached the outer hall.

Izana stood waiting. He wore steel-blue robes, the fabric catching the light with a quiet sheen. His hair was tied back with a silver adornment, and today, his robes were more fitted than usual, accentuating his tall, well-proportioned frame.

He turned as the doors opened.

Nyra stepped through with measured grace. For a brief, breathless moment, Izana saw something in her—a glimmer of deep blue eyes, a silver-haired, ethereal figure from memory. It was fleeting, but long enough for his heart to skip a beat. He smiled softly as she walked close. "Moon blossoms... you seem to have gotten fond of them, Princess." His voice was rich, low and magnetic, like he was deliberately teasing her.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Nyra smiled in response. “A pretty flower for a pretty princess,” she said, her laugh soft and graceful—a gentle echo of his own words from before.

Izana’s gaze softened.

Outside, a white carriage adorned with golden embellishments waited, drawn by four sleek horses. Without a word, he offered his hand. A warrior like her didn’t need help—but still, she accepted the gesture, recognizing the thought behind it more than the act itself.

The carriage rolled through Emberstone’s polished avenues, its wheels a soft hush against cobblestones smoothed by the use of both nobles and merchants alike. Ivy twined around the balconies that overlooked the descending terraces, each level revealing another layer of the market that even Nyra’s homeland had whispered of—Emberstone, jewel of trade, where luxury and legacy entwined.

As the carriage rounded the final bend, the heart of the market came into view—a cascading marvel of stone and light, built into the natural slope of the city’s western rise. At the highest tier stood the House of Aurora, renowned across kingdoms for its silks, said to be as light as a feather, as exquisite as gossamer. Next to it was the House of the Glass Enclave, their glass artistry a class of its own, delicate and opulent, and similar shops and boutiques dotted the tier, their signage refined for those who wished to shop there already knew their names. Spices from the eastern Pepperis curled in the air, mingling with the scent of wood polish, leather, and rare incense. Street musicians played melodies on silver-stringed instruments, while foreign nobles and local elites strolled beneath silken canopies.

As Izana stepped down, a soft hush followed by murmurs passed through the crowd. Heads turned, faces lit up, whispers of 'Prince Izana' bloomed. Merchants offered respectful bows, children waved shyly, and a seller pressed a fresh bloom into his hand with a respectful smile, unafraid. He greeted them with that same calm warmth Nyra had come to recognize—not forced, not ceremonial, but real. A prince loved not just for his title, but for his presence.

Nyra followed, taking his hand as she stepped gracefully down. Her deep burgundy dress caught the sunlight, the soft folds trailing like shadowed fire. She felt their gazes too—curious, respectful, assessing—but they lingered on Izana. This was Emberstone: not just a market, but a mirror of the kingdom’s pride. And this—this quiet reverence for their prince—was the kind of power that could not be won through fear, only earned.

They walked through the market, pausing at several stalls—fascinatingly crafted glass bracelets, savory meat-stuffed loaves, whimsical dreamcatchers, and sweet honey-glazed pretzels. They ascended to the higher tiers, where Izana bought her several gifts: a delicate necklace, twin daggers, a breathtaking gown. He also selected trinkets for Jade, a set of arrows for Julian, a book for his father, and a set of elegant handpieces for the Grand Princess. Everything was more dazzling than she had expected. Be it the shops, the people or the Prince she walked alongside.

Nyra moved with quiet assurance, observing everything—the way nobles laughed loudly yet gracefully at nothing, how guards stationed near the finer shops bowed slightly when Izana passed. It was a kingdom at ease with its prince, and that ease was, somehow, more dangerous than power displayed.

As they passed an apothecary booth run by an elderly woman, her gaze lingered on Nyra for a moment longer before she offered a small, respectful bow. Nyra returned it with a slight nod—acknowledging.

A few steps later, Izana spoke, his voice low and unhurried.

"Even people from far and wide recognize you, Princess."

It was a gentle remark—neither jab nor jest, just observation.

Nyra glanced at him, a faint smile curving her lips.

"Recognition doesn't always mean respect."

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"No, it doesn’t."