Elle and Aer discovered the familiar face of Lioriel Isylme Evargloe of House Kalantheis where the ornate bridge connected the royal gardens to the temple grounds. The graceful priestess stood just off the bridge, discussing final instructions with fellow clerics. Her gentle yet firm tone carried over the gentle splash of fountains below. Liori turned at the sound of footsteps, revealing light mint-colored hair swept into a neat bun. Her teal eyes caught the golden light filtering down through the arches overhead and glowed warmly.

“Princess, Lady Sylverlief,” Liori greeted with a slight incline of her head, “may the eternal light of Aelindra shine upon you. Do you care for tea?”

“Priestess Evargloe,” Elle said, addressing Liori by her formal title in front of the other clerics. “I require your services.”

In their shared childhood code, it was an invitation for a private escape.

Liori’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Ah, are we doing a house visit?”

“We are,” Elle replied. “I heard the 9th Lady Strumwiever of House Fythariel was unwell. I was hoping you and I, as well as Lady Sylverlief, could visit her and pray for her health.”

Liori bowed slightly. “We shouldn’t delay. The longer we wait, the more she may suffer.” She signaled for the other clerics to proceed without her, and they nodded, slipping respectfully back into the temple’s cavernous halls.

Within minutes, the three friends left through an ornate side gate that opened onto an expansive courtyard. There, a carriage emblazoned with the Dawnspire crest awaited them. Intricate wheels carved from pale wood bore the shape of entwined leaves, and golden-lattice windows showed plush seating inside. The driver was an older elf who had served the palace for years, bowed deeply at the sight of the princess, holding the carriage door open. As Elle, Liori, and Aer stepped inside, the solemn ceremony of temple formality melted into a burst of uncontained warmth. The carriage door closed with a soft click, and the moment the velvet interior enveloped them, the three young women threw aside all reserve. Elle set aside her princess-like poise first to embrace Liori. Then it was Aer’s.

“It’s been ages,” Liori murmured, resting her forehead lightly against Elle’s in the brief embrace. She then offered a hand to Aer, squeezing her fingers in a quiet greeting. “At least, it feels like ages since we last did anything just for ourselves.”

Aer settled into one of the cushioned seats, adjusting the gold clasp of her braid. “We see each other around the palace and temple, but it’s never for fun.”

Elle smoothed the silk of her tunic, exhaling a contented sigh. “Life has a way of marching on whether we’re ready. But we’ll steal moments like this when we can.”

Liori smiled, gently tugging the drawstrings of her priestess robes to loosen them just enough for comfort. “I miss the days we ran through the orchard behind the temple, pretending we were on grand adventures.”

Aer’s eyes lit up. “Those were the best! You’d chide us every time we trampled the herbs you were tending. And yet you always covered for us when the elders came looking.”

“Ah, I had my reasons,” Liori replied with a playful wink. “Who wants to see friends punished for merely being curious?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

All three shared a grin at that. Outside, the carriage started to move along the cobblestone path leading away from the temple into the heart of the city proper. Through the window, Elytheris stretched before them in a mosaic of curving streets and graceful tips. Sunlight glinted off canals and marble walkways, and elven citizens moved about unhurriedly.

Elle leaned closer to the carriage window. “It’s so beautiful today. There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

“It’s always beautiful here,” Aer said a little wistfully.

Liori’s gaze flicked over to Elle. But she said nothing; she placed a reassuring hand on Elle’s arm.

Within moments, they began winding through the main avenues. Stalls lined the roads, their canopies displaying vibrant fabrics, jewelry, and fresh produce plucked from hidden glades. Despite Elytheris’s tendency toward solitude, the city proper bustled with life due to its thriving internal trade and the reverence for art and craftsmanship. Every shop was adorned with carved motifs, from vines curling around doorframes to arcane runes etched along lintels.

Every so often, passersby would notice the carriage’s crest, bowing respectfully or calling out a cheerful greeting to their princess. Elle answered each with a friendly wave or a few gracious words through the open window.

“Oh, look,” Aer whispered, nodding across the way. A cluster of children practiced a graceful dance, guided by a teacher tapping a slender cane in time with the music. Their smooth costumes shimmered in the afternoon sun. The trio in the carriage watched for a moment, charmed.

The narrow lanes then twisted sharply. They passed under an archway carved with swirling patterns of vines and blossoms, entering a quieter district. Here, the noise of merchants and street performers faded, replaced by calm and a sense of hush. Towering trees provided dappled shade along the lanes, and ivy draped from stone balconies. They were now near the outskirts of the capital near the mountains.

“We should be close now,” Liori observed, recognizing the ward’s stately townhouses and the understated sigils on wrought-iron gates. “House Fythariel’s estate is near the next crossing.”

Sure enough, the carriage slowed in front of an elegant manor. Its gate bore a subtle family crest: a stylized harp entwined with lightning bolts. Soft lamplights flickered inside the courtyard, illuminating well-tended gardens. Elle sat up, smoothing down her hair and adjusting the crystal rose she still wore tucked behind her ear. The carriage came to a gentle halt. As the driver opened the door, the three stepped out, resuming a dignified posture in case any servants or family members were about. Yet a glance between them confirmed the same mischievous excitement coursed through their veins. This was more than just a courtesy call.

“Let’s go,” Elle said, voice hushed. “Lady Strumwiever awaits our prayers…and perhaps a bit of our company too.”

The princess, the ranger, and the priestess made their way up the stone steps leading to the manor’s entrance, their arms linked. Their laughter and soft conversation echoed in the estate Stormweaver, the ancestral home of Fayelwen Lareth Strumwiever of House Fythariel.

Nestled high in a lush mountain range, its architecture rose in graceful, tapering pinnacles, each peak gilded by golden sunlight. Slender carved stone bridges arched over breathtaking ravines between these spires where water cascades tumbled into mist-filled chasms below. Vines and moss clung to the stone in flowing patterns. As the three friends crossed one such bridge, its surface slick with the cool spray of falling water, Elle felt the gentle sting of mist on her cheeks. Tiny rainbows shimmered in the droplets, fluttering around the group like gleeful sprites. She tightened her hold on Liori and Aer, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“This place never ceases to amaze me,” Aer mused, her violet eyes flicking from one corner to the other.

Ancient carvings adorned every available surface, including the depictions of legendary beasts, celestial constellations, and scenes of elven myth that wound up around door frames and pillars. Occasionally, a glimmer of arcane light flickered in the stonework. Flowing waterways cascaded beneath its foundations, powering subtle defensive mechanisms and mundane utilities. The overlapping melodies of rushing water and rustling leaves enveloped them the moment they entered the gates.