Chapter 177: The Wild in Her Smile
The soft murmur of music drifted through the open balcony doors, echoing with the gentle clink of fine crystal and polished silver from within the grand villa. But neither Eva nor Aristea seemed concerned with the opulence behind them. They had found a sliver of space away from the crowded rooms, from the heavy gazes and watchful adults — here, they were just two girls beneath a vast A••••••••• sky.
Eva sat on the edge of the marble balustrade, her back straight but her posture relaxed in the presence of Aristea. She glanced over, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I've never met anyone my age who's… like you."
Aristea raised a single dark brow. "Like me? Elaborate."
Eva hesitated, then tilted her head slightly, a hint of mischief flickering in her eyes. "You carry yourself like a grown - up. Not like a child forced to act like one. It's natural. It's strange. And I like it."
Aristea chuckled. "That's because I've been raised for it. I'm my family's heir. The first daughter in four generations. And everyone wants to mold me into a perfect heir and weapon in one." She shrugged. "I imagine it's the same for you, even if no one dares say it aloud."
Eva nodded slowly. "Papa expects everything. I'm trained, too. Philosophy, combat, languages, music, etiquette… and wilderness survival, apparently." She gave a half - smile. "We're not so different."
Aristea crossed her arms and leaned against the railing, the moonlight silvering the contours of her face. "They say we're children. But they don't treat us like children. They mold us like metal — heat, strike, repeat. So when you smiled at me earlier like we were normal, I didn't know what to do."
"You smiled back," Eva murmured.
"And meant it," Aristea replied.
They lapsed into a warm silence. The stars above them stretched across the sky in breathtaking constellations, some unfamiliar even to Eva's well - studied eye. She found herself looking at Aristea more than the sky. Her new friend seemed as unknowable and vast.
"May I call you something else?" Eva asked gently. "A name just for me. You have so many."
Aristea looked amused. "Oh? And what would you call me, little huntress?"
Eva's heart skipped at the pet name. "Arry," she whispered. "For just us."
Aristea blinked, then let a smile slowly spread across her lips. "Arry," she repeated, tasting it. "I don't hate it."
"And in public," Eva added, her cheeks warming, "I'll still say Celeste. It suits your—your elegance."
Aristea tilted her head. "You're romantic."
"What?" Eva sputtered.
"Romantic," Aristea said again, stepping closer with that maddening smirk. "You speak like a girl from an old novel. Do you always make up names for people you've just met?"
Eva flushed a deep red. "I — I don't! I just — You're different."
Aristea tilted her head, eyes gleaming like moonlight through glass. "Different enough to name after a goddess? Or am I the first member of your harem?"
Eva sputtered. "What?! I don't — I don't have a harem!"
"Oh, that's disappointing," Aristea murmured, mock - pouting. "I was rather hoping to be one of many mysterious lovers in your palace of secrets. You give that vibe."
Eva stared at her, jaw slightly open. "I'm eight."
Aristea's smile curved wider. "Yes, but emotionally, you're like… a hundred. And clearly plotting dynasty - level romance."
Eva covered her face with one hand. "You are impossible."
"I'm delightful," Aristea corrected, stepping even closer now, so close Eva could smell the faint chill of her perfume — something icy and green and ancient. "Tell me, little poet — was that you proposing? Because if it was, I accept. I've always wanted to be courted under moonlight, dressed in my own eyes."
Eva's hand dropped from her face, horrified and completely pink. "I wasn't proposing!"
"But you could," Aristea said, barely a whisper now, leaning in so their foreheads nearly touched. "And if you did… I might say yes again. Just to see you turn that color again."
Eva looked away, burning, but smiling now despite herself. "You're teasing me."
"Obviously," Aristea replied, unrepentant. "But I'm also serious. You have this way of looking at people — like you already know how the story ends. It's… fascinating."
Eva cleared her throat. "You're not what I expected either."
"Good," Aristea said softly. "Because neither are you."
The breeze shifted again, cool and salt-laced, and for a moment the balcony felt like a world apart — where time slowed, and teasing carried weight, and flirtation became its own kind of challenge.
Eva glanced at her. "So… do you flirt with all your political assignments?"
"Only the interesting ones," Aristea replied. "And only the ones wearing my eye color."
"I noticed." With an amused gleam in her eye, Aristea leaned in and kissed Eva's cheek.
Eva gasped audibly, her whole body stiffening, face burning hotter than the summer sun above the outback.
"W - why did you do that?" she stammered.
"Because you're adorable when you blush," Aristea said with an impish grin. "And I like watching you squirm. You're brave with your words, but the moment someone gets close —" She mimicked Eva's high - pitched gasp, then burst out laughing.
Eva crossed her arms, lips pursed, heart thundering. "That was rude."
"Was it?" Aristea teased. "You didn't seem to mind."
"I —!" Eva looked away, flustered. "Maybe I did."
But Aristea was already laughing again, her hands resting on the cool stone of the railing. "Relax. I'm just playing. I do that when I like people."
Eva turned her eyes back toward her, serious now. "Do you like me?"
Aristea looked at her for a long moment. "I do."
Eva gave a small, content sigh. "I'm glad."
Aristea reached for Eva's hand and held it between both of hers. Her voice dropped, no longer teasing. "I haven't had many real friends. Most children around me are taught to see me as a rival, or a route to power. But you —" She searched Eva's face. "You're genuine. Honest, in a strange, poetic way. And a little odd."
"I'm not odd," Eva protested weakly.
"You wrote your governess a L•••• poem and cried when she gave you a ribbon," Aristea countered.
Eva blinked. "How do you know that?"
"I did some reading on the plane," Aristea said breezily. "I like to know who's attending before I meet them. You were the mystery, though. Most people didn't even have your name."
Eva gave a shy laugh. "That's… intentional. Papa wants to control how I'm seen."
"Isn't that exhausting?" Aristea asked, gently. "Pretending to be less than what you are?"
Eva nodded. "But I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be," Aristea said firmly. "If it were me, I'd want everyone to know exactly who I was. But you —" Her voice softened. "There's strength in the quiet way you carry yourself. You're not loud, but you're still… radiant."
Eva's eyes widened. She didn't know what to say to that. Her heart fluttered again, and her fingers tightened around Aristea's for a moment before she looked down.
"I like animals," she said, suddenly.
Aristea blinked. "Okay?"
"You said you're training for more than diplomacy," Eva continued. "Do you hunt?"
Aristea's grin returned. "I do. Trained in bows, traps, tracking. I've killed a deer before."
Eva's eyes lit up. "That's incredible."
"I wanted to cry afterward," Aristea admitted, "but I didn't. My grandfather was watching."
Eva reached out instinctively and touched her friend's arm. "You have a kind heart, even if you hide it."
Aristea gave her a look of gratitude. "What about you?"
"I've only tracked and done short survival treks," Eva said. "Papa says I'm not ready for a real hunt yet. But I want to be."
"Maybe we'll go together someday," Aristea said. "In G••••. Or wherever your travels take you."
Eva smiled, her eyes shimmering. "I'd like that, Celeste."
Aristea grinned. "Oh, you remembered the public name. Good girl."
Eva elbowed her gently. "You're incorrigible."
"And you're blushing again."
The music from the ballroom swelled in the distance, but neither girl moved. Time had slowed for them, suspended in this precious meeting where nothing was expected, nothing performed. Just two souls, raw and young and bright.
Eva turned her gaze to the stars again. "Do you know the story of Artemis? The real one."
"Of course," Aristea replied, mock offended. "She's the goddess of the hunt, protector of young girls, and a fierce twin to Apollo."
"She demanded honesty and loyalty," Eva said, glancing sidelong. "She punished betrayal without mercy."
Aristea caught the look. "Are you saying I'm like her?"
"I think you're the definition of her," Eva said softly. "Fierce, wild, and beautiful. And — don't laugh — but I think I was meant to meet you."
Aristea didn't laugh. Her teasing faded into something warm and silent. "Maybe you were."
They stood there in stillness, fingers entwined, as if they had always known each other, and were simply waiting for the world to catch up.
And in that moment, beneath the stars of a strange land, a new bond was forged — something playful, something tender, something neither of them could yet name. But they both felt it.
And both, secretly, already wanted more.