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𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
...✵...
🐉 | 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀 | 🐉
𝐂hatter echoed through the market as I walked with Wren, holding her hand and carrying a basket on my arm. The market bustled with life, people moving from stall to stall, bartering and laughing. I gripped Wren's hand tightly, not wanting to lose her in the crowd.
Tension lingered like a thick fog, pressing on my chest with each breath. I noticed an unusual number of guards around the market's edges, their eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously.
"Ah, Carena," an elderly woman called as I approached her stall. "The usual for the Vestalis?" She handed me a bundle of parchment-wrapped clothes. I placed them in my basket, letting go of Wren's hand for a moment.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, pulling out a pale sunset pink dress. "For you."
My breath caught as I recognized it—my mother's dress.
I shook my head, staring at the beautiful fabric. "How?"
"Princess Maeve," she answered, wrapping it in parchment. "She told me it needed altering." She gave me a soft look. "They work you too hard. Consider it a gift." She handed it to me, and I felt the soft silk under my fingertips.
"Thank you," I said, placing the dress in my basket.
"Now, you two must be off," the woman said, glancing around nervously. "There are druids in the city. I don't want either of you caught up in it."
I nodded, walking away and heading back toward the castle.
Uther's hatred for magic was well-known, but druids were peaceful. I hoped those within Camelot's walls could leave safely. The thought of another execution made my stomach churn.
As we walked, something hard collided with my stomach. I stumbled, falling to the ground with a groan, my basket and Wren's hand slipping from my grasp. A young boy lay on the ground, clutching his shoulder, pain etched on his face, sweat beading on his forehead. I held my hands up, trying to appear non-threatening.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said gently, holding out my hand. He stared at it as I sat down, my pale purple skirt spreading around me. "You're hurt. I want to help."
Hesitantly, the boy took my hand, and I smiled at him. Carefully, I picked him up and adjusted the blue hood over his raven hair. Wren clung to my outstretched hand as we walked under the castle's archways.
The boy wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered, "They're searching for me." I held him tighter as the sound of footsteps grew closer, guards rushing past us toward the streets of Camelot. "They're going to kill me."
