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“Oh yeah? Are you going to conjure more creatures for me to fight?”
“Watch this!” Primrose beamed, and Protego halted. Primrose moved, standing before him as if an actor on a stage, and placed a hand on her hip. She winked, closing one eye while the other remained open, and then curtseyed before him. Protego burst into laughter at the ridiculous gesture.
“I’m sorry—you are… such a weirdo.” He laughed, his smile wider than Primrose had ever seen.
“I’ve been working on it for days.”
“I love—” Protego paused for a moment. “—That. I love that; you’re ridiculous. Thank you.”
Primrose and Protego continued walking, spotting the village in the far distance. Only three hundred or so people lived in Vero Village. Bright music crescendoed with every step as they approached the entrance. The fiddle and lyre played in sync, a cheerful lilt occurring. Primrose grinned from ear to ear as they approached the town’s center. Vero Village was composed of wood and stone houses alike. Some friendly, others small cottages and even a few hovels. People lined the streets, waiting in lines at the meat market, others dancing in the main square. Everyone laughed and smiled, and there two women stood on balconies hanging a painted sign that read ‘Lux Aestiva’ in colorful letters. Primrose hadn’t been there in so long; she forgot how it felt to be in a town full of life, full of commotion. A small child handed Primrose a beautiful orange flower, which she tucked into her hair, just behind her ear.
“Thank you,” Primrose told the young boy.
“My mommy says to give them to pretty girls and invite them to our shop.” He looked up at them, his little cheeks flushed pink.
“Where’s your shop?” Protego asked.
“Right over there!” The child pointed to a pastry shop just behind the main square. Primrose took his hand, which was half the size of hers, and followed him into the store. Protego followed closely behind.
“Ben, I see you brought some customers,” said a fair-skinned woman with dark hair, nearly identical to the child.
“Do you like her flower?” Ben asked as his mother patted the top of his head.
Primrose looked through the glass at all the treats on display. Rows of cookies, cakes, and other desserts lined the shelves. She pointed to two chocolate-covered strawberries and brought them to the register.
“A coin, please,” Primrose requested, and Protego opened the small pouch on his belt, filled with some of the Reditus family’s coins.
She handed the silver coin, marked with The Queen’s crest, over to Ben’s mother and took the plate of strawberries. Waving goodbye, Primrose headed out the door and into the main square.
“Here, try this!” she said, shoving a strawberry into Protego’s mouth. A muffled sound came out before he started chewing.
“Mmm. What is this?”
“Paradisus,” Primrose replied, and Protego grimaced.
“What?” she asked in response.
“I wouldn’t compare anything this good to Paradisus. Paradisus and Aeternus are not as black and white as described. It’s not as simple as a paradise and pits of raging fire; there’s politics and neutral ground. Both can be a prison or a Utopia if you allow them to be,” he explained, swallowing the rest of the berry.
Primrose ate the other strawberry and threw the garbage into a nearby trash can. They stood off to the side and watched as townspeople danced, rotating partners as the music roared throughout the streets. A different instrumentalist stood playing on every corner in sight.
“I’d like to dance with you.” She smiled.
“I haven’t danced in ages, starling. I’m terribly sorry, but I’d probably look like a fool.”
Primrose frowned, “I haven’t danced in years either.” She turned, and her dress twirled.
“I’ll try my best….”
“Let’s go this way.” Primrose took Protego by the hand and led him through the crowd and under an arch towards an abandoned alleyway. They could still hear the soft bow of a fiddle as they began a pseudo waltz. It was slow and sloppy, but they stood there, dancing away. The purple fabric of her overdress twirled with every turn. Primrose smiled, and it rubbed off onto Protego, causing him to smile as well. She felt heat rising in her chest, and got caught up in the moment. It felt like pure bliss, something little girls only dreamt about. Protego led them in their dance and then turned her. Primrose turned, and as she came back, she curled into him until they were chest to chest. Frozen in place, Primrose looked into his eyes, breathing heavily. Primrose’s chest felt heavy with anticipation, but she looked at him, smiling, and said nothing. When Protego didn’t react, Primrose frowned and moved away when he pulled her back in.
“Tell me not to kiss you,” Protego demanded, ending the quiet.
“What?”
“Tell me not to kiss you and I won’t, but if you don’t tell me right now, I can’t resist, so,please, tell me not to kiss you.”
Primrose felt her heart pound almost out of her chest as she considered his words, “Protego. I—”
