El-ee…sis… ssizisi–uh, just Ellis, kay?

Tia woke to the scrape of boots and the smell of porridge that had been stretched with too much water. For a second, she didn’t know where she was – the Dozing Serpent’s walls blurred into some dream of cracked plaster and shadow. Then Rika’s laugh cracked it open, sharp as sunlight, and the day began.

They ate in a lopsided circle. Balthan leaned against the wall, tearing his bread into neat bites, Vesh ate slow, as though measuring each mouthful against some private scale of patience. Corin fidgeted more than he chewed, his fingers drumming the table, total antithesis to the first time he had eaten here.

“We keep it simple,” Balthan said. His voice had the iron weight of a man sharpening rules. “We go in, we see them, we listen. If it smells wrong, we walk away. No sudden heroics.”
Tia nodded, though her insides churned. Her mind had spun the night through with possible faces under the hood. A spy? A friend? A predator? A bored noble playing at mystery? She hated how much she wanted to know.

Vesh dabbed his mouth with a strip of cloth. “And no names. No slips. If they ask for more than we give, we leave.”
“I can do that,” Tia said, though she wasn’t sure she believed herself.

Rika leaned back in her chair, twirling a knife that wasn’t meant for twirling. “I’ll mind the tavern with Corin,” she said brightly. “Someone has to keep the stew from burning, also keep your little Guild Mark to be found undefended.”
Corin’s head shot up, ears going a shade too red for his hair. He tried for a casual shrug and failed spectacularly. “Sure. Yeah. Fine. Someone’s gotta… uh… count the spoons too.”
Rika smirked, slow and predatory, and Corin instantly busied himself with the last of his porridge.

Tia bit the inside of her cheek to stop a smile. In the middle of plots and paranoia, watching Corin trip over his own shadow was the one harmless thing left.

They slipped out not long after. Ssarradon’s upper terraces stretched above them like stacked layers of sunlit stone and green, but the streets felt different than before. Soldiers clustered in groups at the main crossroads, armor catching the light in hard, unfriendly flashes. A banner of the Tharvessan Dominion hung limp on a post, and beneath it a squad of guards scanned faces with open suspicion.

Balthan veered them down an alley before any of the soldiers could notice. The air was close, thick with frying oil from some unseen cookfire. Little critters darted across the cobbles. Their boots slapped softly through the labyrinth of houses, away from patrols.

“Heightened presence,” Vesh murmured as they passed under a sagging archway. “Something has the watch stirred.”
“Princess trouble?” Tia asked before she thought. That scenario still glowed in her memory from last night’s conversation.
“Could be.” Balthan’s voice was flat. “Or worse. Doesn’t matter. It means we keep quiet and keep moving.”

So they moved. Up stairways so narrow their shoulders brushed walls, through markets half-shuttered, past women hauling baskets of wet herbs that smelled like pepper and mint. The higher they climbed, the louder the city seemed to breathe – hawkers calling, fountains splashing, wheels rattling.

Then, as before, the alleys broke open into something almost unreal.

The Blooming Bazaar unfolded like a painted fan. Green awnings cast leaf-light across a riot of stalls, where petals spilled in rivers of red, yellow, and violet. The air was damp and full of sweet rot, as though the whole market was one great lung of flowers breathing them in. Children splashed their hands in the narrow water channels, chasing silver fish no bigger than a coin.

A place so colourful and cheerful, yet Tia’s eyes shot around to catch any threat.

Today, Balthan didn’t pause at the stalls. He didn’t even slow. His steps carried them straight through the press of bodies toward the heart of it all – the greenhouse sphere that rose like a second sun.

The conservatory’s glass panes caught the light so sharply Tia had to squint. It towered over the bazaar, each iron rib even brighter against the sky, the dome shimmering with heat. From here, she could see greenery pressed against the glass inside – broad leaves, strange blossoms, a whole secret garden trapped under crystal.

Her breath hitched despite herself. “It looks… cool,” she whispered.
“It is,” Vesh said simply. His tail flicked, slow and thoughtful.
Balthan grunted, eyes narrowed. “Eyes up. The note said midday. We’re early, but not alone.”

Tia followed his gaze. A handful of figures loitered near the greenhouse steps, merchants with baskets, couples arm in arm. Ordinary enough. But in a crowd that beautiful, the possibility of one hooded watcher made every face a threat.

Her palms were damp. The folded letter in her pocket felt heavier than a dagger.

Inside, the conservatory was another world layered over Ssarradon.

The door shut behind them with a heavy hiss, and heat wrapped around Tia like wet cloth. Her breath caught. The air was thick, humid, so alive with the scent of green things it felt like she was breathing leaves instead of air. Her hair dampened instantly at the temples.

Balthan’s frown deepened. He tugged at his collar like a man who would rather face ten swords than one sweltering garden. “Feels like walking into someone’s mouth,” he muttered.

Vesh, by contrast, seemed to relax. His scaled lids flickered half-closed, his chest expanding in an unhurried rhythm. “Comfortable,” he said softly. “A warmth that doesn’t bite.”

They moved along a narrow path between towering beds of foliage. Great fronds arched overhead, dripping condensation, vines knotted along trellises in tangles so thick they looked like they might swallow the iron supports.

Tia slowed at one hanging basket where a cluster of broad leaves dangled like shields. In their mottled green and gold patterns, she swore she saw eyes staring down – not moving, but watching, lids half-shut in endless patience. A shiver pulled at her spine. She turned quickly, looking for soldiers, for strangers, for anyone with a hood.

Nothing. Just families pointing at exotic blossoms, a child tugging at their parent’s sleeve to gawk at a carnivorous bloom that preyed on flies. Yet the prickling on her neck stayed sharp.

Was someone already tracking her? Did they know she was her – the girl with the name in the letter? Or was it only the plants, heavy and strange, pressing their attention onto her with patterns that looked too much like eyes?

She shifted closer to Balthan. He noticed, his gaze flicking sideways, the corners of his mouth tightening. “You feel it too,” he murmured, not asking.

She nodded, too quick. Her hand hovered near her belt, now regretting she didn’t bring any sword.

And then–

A touch. Just a tap, feather-light on her shoulder.

Not Balthan’s firm grasp, not Vesh’s careful weight. This was hesitant, timid, almost… polite.

Tia’s pulse lurched into her throat. She froze, air caught somewhere between inhale and scream. She knew. She didn’t even have to turn.

The hooded figure.

Tia stiffened under the touch, forcing her body not to jolt, not to shout. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She turned slowly, careful not to draw every eye in the greenhouse.

The hood was close – closer than she’d expected – and from beneath it came a voice. A girl’s voice. Warm, lilting, almost… friendly.

“Hello. You must be Celestia.”

The dissonance nearly broke her. Tia had braced for knives, for threats, for shadows speaking doom. Instead she got a polite greeting in tones better suited to a baker offering free samples. She blinked, dumbfounded, mouth opening and shutting before any words escaped.

Balthan and Vesh had noticed by then. Balthan’s shoulders squared, his hand shifting cautiously toward his dagger hilt. Vesh’s gaze narrowed, the strange red glint in his eyes sharpening as he placed himself half a step forward of Tia.

“Not here,” the hooded figure said quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Too many ears.”

The four of them slipped, almost fluidly, deeper into the greenhouse, ducking behind a screen of broad-leafed shrubs whose petals smelled faintly of cinnamon and smoke. It muffled the sound of the bazaar outside and gave them a pocket of shade, private enough to talk without worrying over every glance.

Balthan wasted no time. His voice was iron. “Who are you, and why are you following us?”

The hooded figure tilted her head – then, without ceremony, pulled the hood back.

Sandy scales caught the greenhouse light, smooth and glinting faintly gold. Small horn tips curved back from her forehead, delicate yet proud. A thick tail, heavier than Vesh’s, swayed behind her, and at her back, folded close, were the smallest suggestion of wings – rudimentary, vestigial, but unmistakable.

And her eyes – red, slit fourfold like a gecko’s, striking in their alien warmth.

Tia stared, unable to help herself. “Okay, seriously? You’ve got horns and wings? And here I thought Vesh was fancy with his frill.”

Vesh sputtered. “My frill is not–”

“Right,” Tia interrupted, still staring at her horns and almost spiky scales. “Meanwhile I’ve got, uh–fingernails. Very impressive human feature. Watch me scratch.”

Ellis tilted her head, clearly entertained. “You are stranger than I imagined.”

“Thanks,” Tia said dryly. “That’s my specialty.”

He inhaled sharply, his composure cracking, his voice left him in a reverent whisper:

“Drakaris…” His pupils widened. He sank half an inch lower, as though instinct demanded deference. “The Princess.”

Tia blinked, her fear hiccupping into confusion. “Wait–the what now?”

A warm, amused trill escaped the girl’s lips. “It is quite noble, actually. But your friend is right, mine are… markers. The bloodline runs strong.”

Then she smiled, unbothered by the tension she had caused. “Elysizith. Tharvessan Princess of the Tharvessan Dominion.”

The name rippled over Tia like a too-long word. She tried once, twice, her tongue tangling: “El-ee…sis… ssizisi–uh, nope.” She shook her head. “Ellis. I’m calling you Ellis.”

The princess blinked, almost amused. “That is… not my name.”

“Well,” Tia shot back, crossing her arms, “it is now. Ellis.”

For a long second, Elysizith’s pupils contracted to thin red slivers. Then, to Tia’s shock, the princess huffed – a laugh, short and sharp like steam escaping a kettle.

Vesh’s jaw dropped, his disbelief nearly comical.

“Ellis, then,” the princess said, with mock formality, though her brow arched like she was indulging a child. “If it makes you more comfortable.”

Something in Tia’s chest loosened, like she’d just sidestepped a boulder she hadn’t realized was falling. Ellis wasn’t here to expose her, wasn’t here to throw her to the soldiers. Instead, her tone softened, her eyes catching Tia’s with earnest weight.

“I came because I heard rumors,” Ellis said simply. “Whispers of a girl who defied destiny, who carried something… blank yet powerful. It stirred me. Inspired me. And so I wanted to meet her – to meet you.”

The words landed heavy and strange. Tia, who had only expected suspicion and danger, found herself staring into the curious, almost admiring eyes of a Drakaris princess.

For once, she had no idea what to say.

Balthan folded his arms, unimpressed. “Flattery and jokes aside, you’ve not answered the most important question. Why seek her out? What do you gain?”

Ellis’ gaze lingered on Tia again, not unkindly. “Hope,” she said simply. “You are spoken of as if the world itself tilts toward you. The whispers say you bend what should not be bent. That frightens the throne – and so it intrigues me.”

Tia swallowed hard, shifting her weight. She hated the sound of that. The throne frightened? Her mind flashed with thoughts of soldiers, prisons, and that ugly word: rebellion. But Ellis wasn’t threatening her. If anything, she looked eager.

“So you came all this way,” Tia said slowly, “risking your neck, sneaking past guards and all… just to, what, meet me?”

“Yes.” Ellis’ tail flicked idly. “To see what kind of storm walks on two legs.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Tia muttered.

“And yet you laugh,” Ellis countered with a sly smile. “You wear it lightly. That is what surprised me most.”

For the first time, Tia felt some of the fear drain away. She huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess I’m just good at… deflecting.”

A long beat after Ellis’ introduction, the three of them stood in wary silence. Tia crossed her arms, glancing at Balthan, then Vesh, then back to the princess. Her heart was still hammering, but Ellis’ voice wasn’t sharp with authority. No threats, no accusations. Just… warmth and almost childish curiosity.

Balthan, however, wasn’t relaxing. His jaw tightened. “If you’re truly the princess, then you’ve put yourself at risk. Out here, in the open.”

Ellis shrugged lightly, her sandy scales catching the dappled light. “Risk is the only place worth standing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That answer made Balthan’s frown deepen, though Tia thought she saw the corner of Ellis’s mouth tug upward, amused at her own brazenness.

Tia, still reeling, blurted, “So, uh… how? You’re royalty. Aren’t there, like, guards everywhere? Chains? Palaces with, I dunno, three moats and a dragon or something?”

Vesh glanced at her flatly. “Palaces do not have dragons.”

“I know! I was exaggerating!”

Ellis gave a surprisingly human laugh – light, almost melodic. “Not a dragon, no. But the palace does have guards. Many of them.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “They are less troublesome than you’d expect. A change of cloak, a different stride, and suddenly I am no one.”

Balthan still looked unconvinced. His eyes narrowed. “That simple?”

Her red pupils gleamed mischievously. “If you know where to walk, and when. The city watches straight ahead, never to the edges. And I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Vesh was still staring as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His tail twitched with restrained agitation. “Your Highness, it is not fitting for one of Drakaris blood to run loose among commonfolk. This is reckless.”

Ellis tilted her head, considering him with a strange fondness. “You speak like a court tutor, dutiful and stiff. But I can hear the strength of your virtue in it. You would have fit well among my mother’s scholars.”

Vesh flushed – as much as scales could flush – and said nothing, his jaw working silently.

Tia, meanwhile, was fighting down a laugh. The whole thing was surreal. She’d gone from expecting knives in her ribs to listening to a princess tease Vesh like they were in a tavern.

“Honestly,” Tia said, shaking her head, “you’re… not at all what I expected.”

Ellis’ gaze slid back to her, curious. “And what did you expect?”

Tia opened her mouth, paused, then shrugged. “Someone scary. I don’t know. Royalty usually means cold, distant, obsessed with their crown. But you’re just…” She gestured vaguely. “…you.”

Ellis blinked at that, then smiled, slow and genuine. “Then perhaps I’ve chosen wisely. Rumors carried your.. Hmm let’s call it a predicament. Like thunder, but I wondered if the storm was real. Now I see a girl who laughs freely, even when she fears.”

“Fears?” Tia said quickly. “I’m not afraid.”

Ellis’s smile turned sly. “Your shoulders say otherwise.”

Tia immediately straightened, scowling, which only made Ellis chuckle.

Balthan cut in before things drifted too far into teasing. His voice was sharp again. “If you sought her out because of rumors, then we need to know how. And how you found us so quickly.”

Ellis’s wings flexed slightly under her cloak, more a twitch than a spread. “I hear much, Boss. Whispers cling to me whether I want them or not. When a stranger girl is spoken of in the same breath as miracles and upheaval, I do not need to search far.”

She turned her gaze back on Tia, the weight of it both kind and unnervingly sharp. “And I will not pretend that I do not wish to see what you will do.”

For a moment, Tia couldn’t tell if that was a threat or a compliment. Maybe both. But there was something in Ellis’ eyes – bright, alive, restless – that felt more like kinship than menace.

The warmth of the conservatory pressed close, damp and heavy, clinging to skin and scales alike. A misting vent hissed somewhere overhead, filling the air with a heady perfume of orchids and spice-blooms. Between the thick ferns and hanging baskets, it almost felt like another world – one detached from the city outside, the patrols, the palace.

And somehow, impossibly, they were just… talking.

Ellis actually laughed again, softer this time, but genuine. “I think I like you, Celestia of rumors.”

“Ah, and I go by Tia. I think you can guess why.”

Balthan scowled. “You may like her, but I warn you. If this is some courtly game – ”

“It is not,” Ellis cut in smoothly, her tone sharpening for the first time. “I am tired of courtly games. That is why I leave. Out here, people speak their truths. Even when they stumble, even when they jest – it is still more honest than the halls of my family.”

That silenced them for a moment. Even Vesh looked taken aback.

Tia tilted her head. “So you sneak out a lot?”

Ellis’ grin returned, sly and mischievous. “More than they would like. The guards tire of chasing me. That is why they search the bazaar even now.”

Balthan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So the heightened patrols– ”

“Yes,” Ellis said unapologetically. “They are for me. And perhaps now for you, since we are speaking.”

“Great,” Tia muttered. “First day of magic lessons, now public enemy number two. My life just keeps getting better.”

Ellis’ smile softened. “Yet you still joke.” She leaned back slightly, folding her arms. “I find that refreshing. If I am to bear the chains of a crown one day, I would rather have friends who laugh than advisors who only bow.”

Tia blinked at her, surprised by the sudden sincerity. “Wait… are you saying you actually–like, want us as friends?”

Ellis’s eyes crinkled faintly at the corners. “If you would have me.”

For a breath, no one spoke. The hiss of water channels and the faint clink of glass panes settling above them filled the silence.

Balthan shifted his weight, torn between suspicion and the disarming honesty in her tone. “You speak lightly of such things. Friendship is not a shield against consequence.”

Ellis tilted her head, unbothered. “Nor is caution a shield against loneliness.” Her eyes flicked toward him, unflinching. “You have known war, haven’t you? Then you know walls and rules crumble. What remains are the bonds you’ve chosen. I would choose mine with intention.”

Balthan opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the sharp retort never came.

Tia cut in instead, bouncing slightly on her heels, trying to break the heavy air. “Well… I mean, I could use a royal friend. Bragging rights, you know? ‘Oh, yeah, I hang out with a princess sometimes. No big deal.’”

Ellis chuckled. “Your imitations will need work, but I’d like that too.”

Vesh, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, voice low and steady. “If you are truly Elysizith of the Dominion… you risk more than boredom by being here. To meet us. To meet her.” His tail flicked toward Tia in a subtle gesture. “Why take that risk?”

The princess’ expression grew thoughtful. Her red eyes shimmered faintly in the humid light, pupils narrowing to narrow slits as if considering him from every angle.
“Because the court teaches me that obedience preserves power. But rumors of you, Tia… they say you bend rules without crumbling. That you carry lightness even when all eyes press on you.” She tilted her chin. “I wanted to see if the stories lied.”

Tia rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly self-conscious. “They, uh… exaggerated a little.”

“No.” Ellis smiled. “They did not.”

A strange warmth stirred in Tia’s chest, half pride, half unease. Was Ellis flattering her, or did she really mean it?

Balthan, still unconvinced, folded his arms. “And now you have seen us. What next? A princess cannot simply wander into a tavern whenever she pleases.”

But she just smirked. “You’d be surprised how often I do. But no – you are right. For now, it is enough we’ve spoken. Enough that I know you are not just the whispers.”

Before Tia could reply, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Then the sound of boots – several pairs – pounding along the greenhouse’s stone walkways. A man’s voice barked an order, muffled through the thick foliage.

Ellis’ head snapped toward the sound. “Ah. My keepers again.”

Balthan cursed under his breath. Vesh straightened, scanning the greenery for an escape path. Tia’s heart lurched – were they about to be caught in the middle of this?

Ellis, however, seemed entirely unbothered. She adjusted her hood with elegant precision, scales catching the light as she pulled it back up. “You should go out the west side. The guards will circle in from the east. They won’t trouble you if you look like simple customers.”

“And you?” Vesh asked, concern slipping through his measured tone.

She winked. “I am better at vanishing than they are at finding.”

The guards’ voices grew louder – closer.

Balthan growled low. “This is reckless.”

“Reckless is living,” Ellis said, her grin quick and bright. Then she looked directly at Tia, her tone softening. “We will meet again. I promise.”

And before any of them could protest, she slipped between two towering palms, sandy scales flashing once in the filtered light – then gone.

Only the faint swish of leaves remained, already swallowed by the hothouse jungle.

The three of them stood in uneasy silence until the tramp of armored boots came too close for comfort. Then Balthan jerked his chin. “Move.”

They wove their way through the damp pathways, keeping their heads down as guards in black-and-crimson livery stormed past, muttering about “the wayward princess.” None gave the trio more than a passing glance.

When they finally stepped out into the cooler terrace air, Tia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her pulse still thrummed in her ears.

“Well,” she said faintly, “that was… something.”

“Something dangerous,” Balthan muttered. His face was carved in stone, but his eyes betrayed thoughtfulness.

Vesh’s gaze lingered on the conservatory dome, still gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Something important,” he corrected softly.

Tia hugged her arms, torn between excitement and dread. Ellis’s words echoed in her mind: We will meet again.

Somehow, she knew the princess wasn’t bluffing.