The festival was alive with color and music, lanterns floating above the streets like stars that had come down to dance. The air smelled of sweet wine and spun sugar, the kind of scent that promised magic and mischief in equal measure.

Julian had insisted on bringing you here, a rare moment where neither of you had to think about danger, secrets, or whatever tangled mess Caraval always seemed to bring. Tonight, it was just the two of you. A date—though he hadn’t called it that outright.

He walked beside you, his usual smirk in place, but there was something softer about him tonight. His usual sharp, teasing edge had dulled ever so slightly, his hand finding yours in a way that felt more natural than intentional.

“Try not to fall in love with me too much tonight,” he murmured as he led you past a row of masked performers spinning in perfect synchrony.

You rolled your eyes. “Who says I was in danger of that happening?”

Julian stopped walking, turning to you with that maddeningly charming grin. “If I have to remind you how devastatingly handsome and charming I am, then clearly I’m doing something wrong.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you toward a stall overflowing with bright, sugary treats. “What do you want?” he asked.

You eyed the selection—golden pastries dusted with powdered sugar, caramel apples wrapped in silk ribbons.

Julian watched you with amusement as you debated, then, without asking, he picked up a pastry and handed it to you. “This one,” he decided. “Trust me.”

You took a bite, the warm, honeyed sweetness melting on your tongue. It was perfect.

Someone barged past you, causing you to stumble and Julian moved before you could even process it. His hands caught your waist, steadying you effortlessly as the stranger disappeared into the festival crowd without so much as an apology.

Julian’s grip was firm, protective. He was so close, a breath apart. "I've got you."