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The crowd tonight is massive, a feat considering the troupe pitched their tents miles yet from the capital. But they’ve been growing in popularity, steadily, since they’ve left their quiet, seaside village, and—though half a year ago Riko would have thought it a pipe dream—they’ve been selling out venues more often than not.
“Descend, my little demons!”
Riko, warming up behind the makeshift curtain, bites back a laugh as Yoshiko casts her next spell, wooing the audience with a thunderbolt directed from her finger to the ground at her feet. Yoshiko has a way with the crowd that’s undeniable, unusual spell words aside.
“Maybe we should give her a longer set. She always gets the crowd so fired up,” Kanan says, stretching with Chika and You in preparation for their performance on next.
“Between ‘Yohane’s Dark Magic’ and us, we’re already running close to an hour and a half,” You shoots back. “How much longer do you think our show can go?”
Chika hums in thought. “We might be able to charge more if we extended the program. And then we could finally afford some new costumes.”
“I don’t think now’s the time to talk about this,” Riko says, as a thick cloud of smoke billows around the curtain and overtakes their feet—Yoshiko’s penultimate spell, meant to build suspense. “We go on in less than five.”
As if on cue, the other side of the curtain lights up in a near-blinding flash, and Yoshiko appears next to them in a puff of smoke. Patting herself down as though checking for any injuries, she smiles smugly. “I get better at that one by the day.”
“You’re missing half of your cape,” You tells her, dryly.
Yoshiko reaches a hand behind her and pulls a frown when she meets nothing but air. “Damn, I swear I finally nailed it.”
“You’ll get it next time,” Kanan says, parting the curtain so the others can pass through.
Stepping out in front of the crowd for the first time since it really gathered, Riko is fully struck by the audience they’ve managed to pull for tonight. For a moment, she feels small—a mere bard standing in front of a mob.
But, scanning the crowd as she readies her bow, she spots a familiar flash of green amongst the crowd and instantly relaxes. Taking a long breath through her nose, she catches Chika’s eye and, with a subtle nod, hits the starting note.
“You played beautifully today.”
Riko jumps at the voice, hands stuttering as they pack up her instrument, and spins to face the speaker. “Your Highness! I saw you in the audience earlier, but I didn’t expect you to…” She trails off, unsure of how to finish that thought. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”
Dia nods, the motion itself carrying a sort of regalness Riko can’t help but be taken with. “Of course,” she says. Then, after the briefest moment’s hesitation, she takes a step forward. “Miss Sakurauchi-”
“Hey Riko!” Kanan appears as if conjured by one of Yoshiko’s spells, a towel thrown lazily around her neck. “We’re gonna have a team meeting to discuss…” Just as abruptly as she appeared, Kanan trails off. Riko doesn’t turn to face her, but she can hear Kanan’s footsteps slow before pattering off in the opposite direction.
“Maybe we should take a walk?” Riko suggests, jerking her head towards where the woods grow thick—away from the clearing the troupe had settled in for the performance. “We might get some privacy that way.”
As they head deeper into the forest, the sounds of the dissipating crowd fade into nothing, and they’re left with just themselves and the surrounding trees. Riko loves these woods, always has, even as a child growing up in the capital. The human inhabitants in the city always had plenty of tales to tell about what could possibly living within its depths—fairies, ents, centaurs… Though Riko had never seen any such creature amongst the trees herself, she doesn’t blame those who spread the rumors. The forest just has that air of magic permeating through it.
For a moment, Riko lets that atmosphere get the better of her and, feeling again like the girl who would wander through the trees humming new melodies under her breath until it grew dark, she skips out ahead of Dia. It’s only when she takes a lighthearted turn that she catches the princess watching her, the slightest upturn to her lips.
“Oh!” Riko stops, midmotion, feeling warm. “My apologies, Your Highness, I-”
Dia cuts her off with a shake of her head. “Don’t apologize. It’s a lovely night.”
Riko ducks her head, self-conscious all the same. “I don’t believe I thanked you properly for coming to see us,” she says, changing the subject. “It’s such an honor to have you attend one of our performances. I’m sure the others are besides themselves right now.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Dia replies, so matter-of-factly, Riko jerks her head up in shock. “I was surprised when your letter arrived, but I wasn’t about to miss a chance to hear you play again.”
Riko’s face must be on fire for how hot it feels. “You’re too kind. There’s still a lot for me to work on, especially in my performance and-”
Dia takes a small step forward, and Riko’s jaw snaps shut. “You were wonderful. Ruby thought so as well.”
Riko can’t help but smile at the mention of the younger princess. In simpler times, the two princesses would bring her all sorts of different compositions by a bardic troupe (named the “Muses”, or something similar) that would visit the capital occasionally, and listen, rapt, as she fumbled through the notes, sometimes even singing along. That was what she missed most when she moved to the seaside to get away from the pressure in the capital—not the music itself, but the joy it brought people.
A joy she’s started to rediscover with her new friends.
“Miss Sakurauchi,” Dia says, before stopping and correcting herself. “Riko. Have you spoken to your parents since you started traveling?”
Riko suddenly finds the trees past Dia’s head much more interesting. “I think you know that answer already, Your Highness.”
“You can’t avoid them forever,” Dia tells her, plainly. “And they would be overjoyed to know that you’ve been writing music again.”
“I know that,” Riko replies, clutching at the rough fabric of her cloak with uneasy hands. “And I’m not trying to avoid them, I just...”
She cuts herself off with a sigh. “I don’t know what to say to them,” she admits, softly. “I left the capital because I couldn’t handle the pressure of performing. To have started again without letting them know…”
Dia takes another step forward, now arm’s length from Riko. “Is there any way I can help?”
Riko’s eyes flicker back to Dia’s, and a comfort washes over her at the mere familiarity of the color, the concern reflected in Dia’s gaze. Fingers loosening their grip enough to reach out an unsteady hand, Riko sends Dia a genuine smile. “To be honest, Your Highness, you already have.”
To Riko’s relief, Dia takes her hand with no hesitation. “Let me know if there’s anything more I can do,” she says, her grip like a ballast keeping Riko upright.
The walk back to the troupe’s camp isn’t unlike their first walk through the woods—a comfortable silence settled over them as they take in their surroundings—but this time Riko and Dia hold close to each other, hands threaded tightly together. Before long, Riko spots a campfire in the distance and tugs the princess towards it.
“There you are! We were about to send a search party!” a voice rings out, right as they emerge from the treeline. It’s one that Riko can’t place immediately, though Dia seems to recognize it if the way her hand clenches is any indication.
“Mari!” Dia says, voice sharp, bordering on scolding. And then she must scan around the fire because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Ruby? What are you doing here?”
Chika laughs from beside the latter, a large bag of sweets sitting between them. “We found them in the crowd after you disappeared,” she tells Riko, before motioning to Mari. “She said that we should just wait for you to turn up and then insisted on waiting with us.”
Dia heaves a deep sigh, a vein in her temple twitching. “How many times did I tell you I could handle this on my own?”
“Surely you didn’t think I was going to let my best friend have such an important conversation without backup?” Mari shoots back, looking entirely unapologetic.
Riko can only imagine the choice words Dia has in response to that, so she squeezes the hand still clasped in one of her own and redirects Dia’s attention to her. “I think you handled everything quite well on your own.”
The action draws Mari’s attention to her as well, however, who hones in on Riko and Dia’s joined hands like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Very well, from where I’m sitting,” Mari chimes in, laughing when Dia’s head whips back around.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Kanan cuts in, head sticking out of the troupe’s communal tent. “Come join the fire you two. Summer’s nearly over, and it won’t do if either of you get sick.”
Dia sets her jaw, whatever response she had swallowed for the moment, and looks to Riko for confirmation. At Riko’s nod, she leads them to the fire, taking the spots on Ruby’s other side.
With the group’s attention off them for the moment, Riko leans closer to Dia and, voice low, admits, “I did try to write my parents a letter about our performance tonight.”
Dia turns to face her but stays silent, waiting for Riko to continue, so she does. “This is the closest we’ve come to the capital. It seemed like the perfect time to contact them, let them know I was doing better, but I could never find the right words.
“So I wrote to you instead.”
The confession is quiet, even more so than the rest of Riko’s words, and for the moment that Dia doesn’t respond, Riko worries that she didn’t hear her. But then Dia squeezes her hand, eyes softer than Riko’s ever seen them.
“I’m glad you did,” Dia tells her. “I understand that you still need time before you’re ready to come back to the capital, but it was nice to see you. To know you’re doing well.”
“I will be back,” Riko promises. “Chika, You, Kanan, and Yoshiko… they’ve never been before, and I know they’re excited to visit. And,” Riko brings Dia’s hand into her lap and covers it with her other one, “I want to see you again.”
Dia looks prepared to respond but grimaces at a particularly loud outburst of laughter from across the fire. Standing and taking Riko with her with their joined hands, she sends Riko a placating smile and says, “This was a lovely evening, but my companions and I should set out now if we want to make it back to the castle before anyone wonders where we are.” And then, dropping her voice adds, “Forgive me, but I was about to say something I don’t want Mari anywhere in earshot for.”
“Aww, do we really have to go?” Mari groans from the other side of the fire. “The tent seems big enough for all of us.”
“Yes, now get up,” Dia orders, before turning to the entertainers situated around the camp. “It was wonderful to meet you all, and if you ever find yourselves in the capital, please don’t hesitate to let us know. We’d be delighted to host you.”
The troupe makes various noises of disappointment—Chika and You seem particularly let down when Ruby stands and thanks them for everything—but move to see their guests off all the same. They walk as a group to the edge of the camp, near the road where the royal ensemble had tethered their horses, but Riko and Dia hang towards the back, savoring the brief privacy granted by everyone else’s distraction.
“Is it alright if I keep writing to you?” Riko asks.
Lifting Riko’s hand to her mouth, Dia presses a lingering kiss to the back of it. “Please,” she tells her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Riko watches in a slight haze as Dia mounts her horse and starts the ride back to the capital with Mari and Ruby in tow, barely having the mind to raise her tingling hand in a parting wave. The troupe, standing there next to her, shouting goodbyes until their retreating forms completely fade into the distance, and then turn to head back to camp.
“So,” Chika says after a beat, throwing an arm around Riko’s shoulder, “when do we get to meet your girlfriend?”
Riko can’t even muster the energy to deny it.