The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 429: The Winterkeep Festival

They descended the stairs, and immediately, the Imperial Guard formed a protective bubble around them. Jorel and his men moved with quiet efficiency, creating a five-foot buffer that kept the crowds at bay while allowing them to remain visible.

This was Eris’s official introduction to the common folk. As they walked, the initial reaction was one of stunned silence. People stopped mid-bite or mid-chew, their eyes wide as they realized the Emperor and Empress were actually walking among them.

"Empress! Empress!"

A group of children near a sweet-stall began waving enthusiastically. Eris didn’t hesitate; she waved back, her smile genuine and unforced. She wasn’t the distant, icy queen they had whispered about; she was human, vibrant, and alive.

The adults were slower to react, some bowing deeply, others simply staring in fascination at the "Fire Queen" who looked so at home in their winter furs. Then, a small chant started near the edge of the crowd.

It built quickly, a rhythmic drumbeat of voices. Soren. Eris. Together. Eris felt a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with her magic. She had expected fear, or perhaps the cold resentment she felt from the nobles, but the people of the city were simpler. They saw a beautiful woman standing beside their emperor, and they saw hope. It was... nice. Unexpectedly nice.

Watching from the exclusive area, the royal family of Solmire presented a starkly different tableau. Rael was practically bouncing out of his boots. "Papa, can we go too? I want to see the ice dragons! Bjorn wants to see them too!"

The white wolf barked a sharp agreement, his tail thumping against Caelen’s leg.

Caelen watched Eris. He saw the way she looked at Soren, and the way she smiled at the children. It was the smile he had once thought belonged to him, and the sight of it made his chest ache with a dull, familiar throb. But he looked down at his son and nodded. "Of course, Rael. We’ll follow at a distance."

Ophelia stood beside him, her hand resting on her stomach. Her mask was perfect, a sweet, supportive smile plastered on her face, but internally, she was seething. She saw the way the crowd looked at Eris. She saw the way Soren hovered near her, his body inclined toward the Empress as if drawn by a magnet.

She followed them into the festival, a guest in an empire that didn’t know her, clutching her resentment like a hidden dagger.

The tour began in earnest. Soren took his role as guide with surprising enthusiasm.

Their first stop was a steaming food stall. "Try this," Soren said, handing Eris a Kirscha, a traditional pastry filled with spiced meat and dried berries, served piping hot.

Eris took a cautious bite, her eyes widening as the flavors hit her. "This is... actually incredible," she admitted, taking a larger second bite.

"The secret is the mountain pepper," Soren noted, looking far too proud of a pastry he hadn’t baked.

Next, they stopped before an intricate ice carving of a dragon, the representation of Aenithra in her primordial form. Soren explained the symbolism, the way the ice represented the dragon’s scales and the sun represented the fire in her heart. Eris listened intently, her eyes tracing the lines of the sculpture, genuinely interested in the lore of her new home.

Nearby, a snowball fight among the local youths had grown spirited. A stray, powdery projectile sailed through the air, puffing into white dust against the shoulder of Eris’s cloak. The child who threw it turned pale, his eyes dinner-plate wide in horror.

Eris let out a bright, melodic laugh. "Good aim, little wolf," she called out. The child’s terror vanished instantly, replaced by a beaming, gap-toothed grin as he scurried back to his "fort."

In these small moments, the connection between them began to re-solidify. The tension of the palace was replaced by the simple shared experience of the day.

However, as they moved deeper into the market, the crowd began to swell. The "bubble" created by the guards was shrinking as more and more people pushed forward to get a glimpse of the Empress. It was becoming a crush.

Soren noticed Eris’s posture stiffen. She wasn’t scared, but she was looking overwhelmed, the sheer volume of people pressing in on her personal space.

He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "Do you trust me?"

Eris blinked, looking up at him. "What?"

A mischievous, boyish glint sparked in Soren’s eyes, the look of the prince he had been before the crown became so heavy. "Follow my lead."

Soren signaled Jorel with a sharp, subtle nod. The commander understood instantly. "Look! Everyone! The ice dancers have begun the Great Spiral!" Ryse shouted, gesturing toward the central stage.

The crowd, easily distracted by the promise of the festival’s highlight, turned their heads in unison.

"Now," Soren whispered. He reached down and grabbed Eris’s hand, his fingers interlacing with hers with a firm, decisive heat.

He pulled her away from the main thoroughfare, darting into a narrow side street lined with smaller, quieter stalls. They ducked into a merchant’s shop that sold heavy travel gear.

The merchant, an elderly man with thick spectacles, looked up, his eyes going wide as he recognized the two most powerful people in the world standing among his rucksacks.

"Two cloaks," Soren said, tossing a handful of heavy gold coins onto the counter, enough to buy the entire stall. "The heaviest you have. Now."

The merchant didn’t ask questions. He handed over two thick, fur-lined travel cloaks in nondescript charcoal grey.

As Eris pulled the heavy hood over her head, obscuring the silver of her hair and the sapphire of her earrings, a sudden, violent rush of memory hit her.

She was back in Solmire. It was the beginning of her second life. She had been planning her escape from her father’s house, researching disguises, sneaking into the night market to find a way. And there, in the shadows of a foreign market, she had met him.

The parallels were staggering.

Then, she had been escaping a fate she hated. Now, she was escaping a crowd that loved her. Then, they had met as strangers, wary and sharp. Now, they stood together as husband and wife.

How far we’ve come, she thought, looking at Soren as he adjusted his own hood. How much blood and ice and fire is between that night and this one?

And yet, looking at him now, the way his eyes searched hers beneath the shadow of the hood, the feeling was the same. That electric anticipation, that sense that they were the only two people in the world who truly understood the weight of the air they breathed.

They stepped back out into the street. They were now just two more hooded figures among thousands, their royal finery hidden beneath common wool. The guards were still there, Soren knew, discreetly trailing them from thirty paces, but to the world, they were invisible.

The freedom was instantaneous. They could walk normally, shoulder to shoulder, without the pressure of a thousand eyes.

Soren looked at her, a grin spreading across his face. "Better?"

Eris couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face. "Much. Though sneaking away from your own festival... it’s very imperial of you, Soren."

"I told you I was showing you around," he countered, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing hers. "I just prefer to do it... more intimately."

There was a sudden, heavy heat in his eyes, a double meaning that made the breath catch in Eris’s throat.

Damn him, she thought, her heart racing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.