The scent of spice and burning amber drifted through the streets as the City of Golden Hues prepared for the Autumn Equinox. Lanterns swung from balconies, gilded with ribbons of crimson and gold, and the air itself seemed to hum with anticipation.
Noelis watched from her window as the crowd below laughed and drank, faces lit by torchlight and the shimmer of festival fire. How carefree they looked, she thought — and how distant such ease felt to her now.
Only months ago, she'd been brought here under the escort of the Celestial Conclave, stripped of her freedom and told of her duties this Autumn Equinox. Tomorrow, during the sacred festivities, she would be bound — offered up to whichever king, lord, or noble that might claim her in the rite that marked the end of the Equinox.
The thought made her stomach twist.
The Equinox had always been a grand occasion, but this year was exceptional. It had been a while since, the royals of all Major Houses gathered in one place. Each house had sent three of its fiercest champions to compete in the Grand Hunt — a brutal contest held in the Darkwood forests beyond the city walls. The outcome would determine not only glory but rank among the Houses for claiming of the Marked Tributes on the last day of the Equinox.
The first day was for the Grand Hunt. The second was for the feast. But the third — that was for the claiming.
The Marked. That was what they called the women chosen by the celestials and bestowed with special abilities. They were to be claimed during the Equinox and potentially traded like precious jewels.
Noelis had tried not to think about it.
A horn sounded in the distance, loud and majestic — the call marking the end of the day's hunt. The roar of the crowd echoed faintly even from her high window. Tomorrow, she would meet the victors, whether she wished it or not.
For now, she had a few precious hours left of her own choosing.
Feigning illness, Noelis had asked her chaperone for an early night. The woman, stiff and humorless, had agreed without question, leaving a servant to guard her door. When all fell silent, Noelis moved quietly in her room.
She arranged her pillows beneath the duvet, shaping them to mimic the rise of a sleeping body. Then she changed into a simple dress — one she had hidden days ago — and tied the hem near her knees so it would not hinder her movement as she climbed out of her window.
Cool air brushed her cheeks, carrying with it the faraway sounds of music and laughter.
A large tree stood half inside the townhouse garden and half beyond its walls. She had studied it from her window every night. Its low branches reached like open arms — an invitation to climb over.
Climbing out carefully, her fingers gripped the rough yet sturdy branches, Noelis's heart hammering with the thrill of this small defiance. Her cousin Lys had taught her well — climbing, sneaking, moving unseen. "A lady should know how to escape as well as how to curtsy," he'd once said, laughing.
Within moments, she was over the wall.
The city unfolded before her, alive and radiant. Music swelled from the squares; the scent of roasted chestnuts, spiced meat, and sweet wine filled the air. Lanterns floated above rooftops like drifting stars.
Drawn by the sounds, Noelis followed the cobbled lane until it opened into a wide plaza overflowing with people. Dancers whirled in circles, tambourines clashed, and ribbons of smoke rose from food stalls. For a moment, she forgot who she was supposed to be — just another face in the crowd, another heartbeat among hundreds.
Her stomach growled softly as she passed a stall where a round man was fanning skewers of sizzling meat.
"Some gecko skewers and wine for the lovely lady?" he called out, his curled moustache bouncing as he grinned.
She smiled faintly. "I forgot my purse. Maybe next time." She had indeed forgotten to bring any money.
His wife, a plump woman with kind eyes, clicked her tongue. "A poor thing like you shouldn't go hungry on festival night. Here, take this — on the house." She pressed a small cup of wine and a handful of puffed corn infused with autumn spices into Noelis's hands.
The warmth of the wine spread through her chest, warm, sweet and tinged with spice and a hint of pumpkin. She thanked them and drifted deeper into the crowd, sipping slowly.
A group of dancers pulled her into their circle before she knew it. Their laughter was contagious, their rhythm wild and unrestrained. Someone caught her by the arm and spun her around, and soon she was laughing too — breathless, dizzy, free.
By the time the music ended, her cup was empty and her pulse thrummed like the drums that still echoed through the square.
But the night was deepening. The revelry grew louder, rougher; the laughter had an edge to it now. Noelis knew she should return, yet the bonfire at the heart of the square was just being lit, its flames rising in brilliant columns of orange and gold.
She couldn't resist.
She stepped closer, watching the fire catch and leap. The heat kissed her face, the air shimmering with embers. It was beautiful — wild and alive. For a moment, she let herself imagine that the flames might burn away her fate.
Then, suddenly, she felt a presence to her right. A hooded figure.
A hand slid across the small of her spine — firm, possessive. Another hooded figure came from the left side, gripping tightly. Before she could turn, she was pulled against a solid chest.
"Easy now," a low voice murmured near her ear, rough with drink and something darker.
Her pulse spiked. She was tipsy but above all, an earthy, woody scent mixed with the sweet spice of the air stimulated her senses, elevating her body heat.
The man's breath brushed her neck. "You're far too fine to be alone tonight."
She twisted when her consciousness got the better of her, but he held her fast. His gloved hand traced down her back, slow and deliberate, before gripping her firmly at the waist. Then, tilting her chin upward, he angled her face toward his.
His mouth descended — sudden — tasting of metal and wine. His hand had roamed further down the curve of her back finding her soft yet firm flesh.
A sigh came from nearby. "Come on Cal, I found her first. Shouldn't you save your energy for the ceremony tomorrow?"
The one called Cal let out a soft chuckle. "Who says I can't have a little warm up first? She's fair enough to tempt me tonight. I'll reward you handsomely for your find."
"I didn't find her for you,' the other muttered. "Your greed knows no end."
With one strong pat on his back, Calen retorted, "Isar, there are plenty of other ladies here who would be more than happy to be taken home by you." Sure enough, several of the women around the bonfire were eyeing the two men.
That distraction was all she needed. Coming to her senses Noelis shoved at Calen's chest and tore herself free. The crowd blurred around her as she ran, the sound of her heartbeat drowning out the music.
She ran and didn't look back.
Noelis ran until the square was far behind, her breath ragged, her palms scraped from bracing against stone walls. The wine had long since burned away, leaving only the pounding rhythm of fear — and defiance.
When she finally stopped, she was in a narrow alley from where she could see the big oak tree she needed to climb to get back into her room in the townhouse. It was only when she climbed her way up the tree and reached her room that she let her guard down and fell to her knees.
She silently changed into her night clothes and nestled into her bed.
Tomorrow, the winners of the Grand Hunt would stand before the Conclave, and one of the victors would claim her. The conversation between the two hooded men by the bonfire revealed that they were going to be there tomorrow and this Calen may be one of the victors.
The heat that she felt tonight lingered but more importantly the reality of what she was here for tomorrow sank deep. The celestial mark had found her and there was nothing she could do about that or the fate that came with it. Maybe it was the wine but Noelis swiftly drifted to sleep in the midst of her thoughts.
And though she didn't know it yet, someone else had seen her in the square that night — a figure who watched from the shadows, eyes sharp as winter steel.