Lirea woke to the distant sound of cheers that echoed like a gentle drumbeat in the air. She approached the window and, looking down, saw the village waking up in a wave of jubilation. The streets filled with voices celebrating fervently.
"Lirea, congratulations!" some exclaimed, their words full of hope and pride. "The future princess, the pride of Valmor!"
Faces shone with sincere smiles and eyes full of admiration. The villagers greeted each other, sharing the growing excitement with every word.
At that moment, Lirea felt the weight of those gazes and words upon her shoulders, while the wind seemed to whisper promises and challenges at the same time.
"Come down, Lirea!" called a warm voice from below. "We've prepared delicacies to celebrate our future princess."
She hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and descended the stairs with slow but determined steps. Upon entering the courtyard, she was greeted by a mix of smiling faces: mothers hugged her tenderly, the elders nodded in approval, and adults greeted her with respect and joy.
"It's an honor to have you among us," said an elderly woman, her voice trembling with emotion. "May your path be as bright as your heart."
Lirea offered a sincere smile. Amid that celebration, she felt a spark of happiness that, for a moment, dispelled the weight of doubts and responsibilities she carried within.
The sun raised its golden wings, spreading majestically over noon.
Lirea began receiving congratulations and invitations from the villagers, to the point of feeling overwhelmed. That's why she decided to retreat to her usual refuge, that quiet place where she could be alone and regain calm.
Upon arrival, she sat among the flowers, surrounded by their scent and the soft whisper of the wind. Finally, she could breathe deeply, letting tranquility dissolve the tensions accumulated in her chest, as if the garden itself absorbed her worries.
Minutes later, she sensed a presence behind her. She already knew who it was; without turning, her heart recognized it before her eyes. But when she slowly turned, she found Lucan.
"I caught you," he said with a mischievous smile. "I wanted to scare you, just like you surprised me when we met."
She smiled, relaxing at the familiar joke.
After a long silence during which they stared at each other, Lucan spoke softly:
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before that I'm a member of the royal house."
"It doesn't matter," Lirea replied. "I guessed from the way you speak and your clothes."
Her response surprised Lucan, who offered a calm smile.
"Although I didn't expect you to be the prince," he added. "Everyone in my village already knows the news, probably thanks to my father. They call me the princess of this kingdom."
"You will soon be officially considered a princess," Lucan informed her, "and it will be announced shortly that you are my fiancée, following the elevation of your family's status."
"I see…" Lirea said with a sigh.
Lucan noticed the shadow of sadness in her eyes and asked:
"Is something wrong?"
"I'm happy about the proposal," she answered, "but I feel this is all happening too fast."
"Don't worry," Lucan reassured her. "For now, these matters will be handled by the adults. We are both only ten years old, and the engagement will be formalized when we come of age."
"That said, I wanted to give you something," Lucan said, delicately pulling a silver bracelet from his pocket.
The bracelet gleamed with a subtle glow, like moonlight reflected on a calm lake. Its design intertwined small leaves and waves, as if forged by nature itself, elegant and eternal.
"I wanted you to have it," he continued, "as a symbol of our bond, and to remind you that, although fate may take us down uncertain paths, you will always be protected."
"It's very beautiful," Lirea murmured, her eyes shining with sincerity.
"May I?" Lucan asked, extending his hand gently, showing his wish to place the bracelet.
Lirea nodded softly, offering her wrist as if trusting a sacred ritual.
Lucan took her arm carefully, his fingers brushing her skin with the delicacy of a light breeze. With slow and precise movements, he slid the bracelet on, which seemed to merge with her essence, as if it had found its natural place.
When finished, he raised Lirea's hand and, with a gesture full of respect and tenderness, gently kissed the back of it.
"It suits you better than I imagined," he whispered, as their eyes met in a moment of silent understanding.
Lirea couldn't help but feel a shy blush rise to her cheeks, awakened by the subtle contact and words that caressed her ear like a delicate whisper.
Before parting, Lucan looked at her with a soft smile and said:
"I hope this bracelet never leaves your wrist."
Since then, their meetings became almost constant, although it was no longer the same. Lirea had lost that bright energy she used to radiate, and Lucan couldn't help but notice the calm contained in her eyes. Still, whenever he finished his duties, he sought a moment to reach the place where she hid, hoping to return, even if only a little, that light that seemed to have faded.
Lucan's life was full of demands typical of his rank. Between training, lessons, and duties, every free moment was for her.
"Don't forget the sword grip posture," ordered the fencing master as Lucan corrected his hold.
"Precision is key, prince," the instructor insisted, watching every movement.
Then came the etiquette lessons:
"Diplomacy requires firmness, but never brusqueness," the master reminded in a grave voice.
And history classes:
"Knowing our past is the foundation to govern well," said the tutor.
Between exercises and teachings, Lucan barely had time for himself, but always found a moment at the end of the day to head to the usual place, where Lirea waited.
He finished training, placed the sword in its place, and after bidding a slight farewell to his instructors, covered himself with his cloak and left without a word. The sky, covered with low clouds, announced rain.
The path to the field was damp, but his steps were firm, accustomed.
The rain fell with a persistent softness, as if the sky was not crying heavily but silently, drop by drop. Lucan walked unhurriedly, the wet cloak clinging to his shoulders and his boots sinking into the soft earth of the path. In the distance, the flower field waved to the rhythm of the wind, now blurred by the damp gray of the afternoon.
And there, amid the murmur of drops and the faint scent of wet earth, he saw a solitary figure.
A girl sat on the wet grass, legs drawn in, gaze lost in the gray horizon. Her brown hair, a bit darker than Lirea's, fell in heavy strands weighed down by the rain. Even under the cloudy sky, her profile seemed carved in calm.
When she lifted her face, Lucan stopped.
In her eyes — deep blue, almost stormy — there was an echo. A familiar presence, although impossible to place fully. She wasn't Lirea, he knew, but her face had something that resonated with her. Not in expression, but in essence.
Her expression, however, was not Lirea's. She had a serene, contained elegance, as if her silence was intentional. Lirea, on the other hand, radiated a lively, almost restless light, as if the world couldn't hold her.
"Do you want something?" the girl asked without barely raising her eyes.
Lucan tensed for a moment, surprised to have been noticed so soon.
"Just… have you seen a red-haired girl around here? Fair skin, lively eyes. She often comes to this place."
"No."
The response was quick, disinterested.
Lucan slightly frowned. He didn't know what he expected, but that indifference bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He pressed his lips, held back any reply, and simply looked away toward the field. He said nothing more.
Lucan sighed, turned around, and walked away without looking back, letting the rain erase any attempt at connection.