I've never dressed up for anybody but myself.

But until now, I've never had anybody worth my best self. As I survey myself in the mirror, I realise I don't look much different: my face is still plain, pointed, angry; my legs too short and stubby to be elegant. I haven't done anything with my brown hair except brush it. I've managed to find a half decent dress in the wardrobe of hell— one that doesn't have frills, and a dark shade of midnight with a low neckline. Perhaps, the "old" me— the one that hadn't yet fallen in love— would have laughed. Dressing up for a man? I can almost hear myself snort.

And yet, as I stare in the mirror, I don't giggle. Instead, my hand rubs my nervous belly, as if to calm the churning snakes inside. My foot taps. I sway on the balls of my feet to the heels.

'Damn it,' I mutter, turning deliberately away from the mirror and striding across the room. As I pull open the door, Hadrian awaits, curling his body into an elegant bow.

'My lady,' he teases, but I flush pink. He's dressed in a dark green suit, the cuffs exposed at his wrists, and a silver tie adorning his chest that compliments his dark hair. I thought I'd had enough of green at the Spring Court, but seeing this version makes my mouth want to drop. How can a bottle green look hot? But it does.

I'm glad I've dressed up— he certainly has.

'Are you ready?' he asks.

'Where are we going?' I counter.

His only answer is a knowing smile.

The festival looks like something out of a story.

The mountains surround a market of glowing lights, and noise erupts my ears as we arrive.

Hadrian, his arm tucked around my waist, gives me a squeeze. 'Welcome,' he murmurs into my ear, 'to the Festival of Light.'

I blink, taken aback. We're stood on a mountainside, among the rocks and grasses, and down below I can see crowds of people with bright, burning lanterns. In the disappearing daylight, they don't quite stand out yet. But— as I'm sure is his intention— the festival is about to get underway.

'Where are we?' I gulp. The air is crisp, clean, alive.

'Far from Minoa,' he replies. 'But the Festival is famous worldwide.'

'I've never heard of it,' I say, nudging him. 'Are you sure you didn't slip me something hallucinogenic?'

'Don't think there's a drug that would risk offending you,' Hadrian smirks.

The butterflies that had persisted in worry— what should I say? How should I act?— fade into the background. I catch myself smiling as I offer up my arm to him. Instead, he curls his fingers around my hand and leans to kiss it.

'Tonight, you are my date,' he reminds me, his eyes burning with eagerness. 'Do you want to see the market?'

'Who cares about a made-up festival?' I say with a wink, and he roars in mock annoyance, nudging me down the hill. We walk, hand in hand, the space between our shoulders vanishing until I bump against him with every step. There's no need to. We have all the space in the world.

I just don't want any between us.

When we reach the foot of the hill, we meet the edge of the crowds. A heavy scent of spiced fruit and pinewood lingers in the air, and smoke from fires burning on bonfires. Humans are dark shadows of white, brown, black, silhouetted against the yellow flames. Hadrian steps before me, and as he turns to see my face, watch my reaction, I stare at him. I watch as the light dances through his eyes.

'It's beautiful,' I say.

His hand tightens around mine. He swallows, and the firelight bobs around his throat. My fingers reach out to feel his hair.

'In this light, your hair almost looks like bronze,' I murmur, my fingers tracing the silkiness. He tenses, and I snatch my hand back.

'Sorry,' I say, 'I just—' Your hair looked so good, I had to touch it?

He grabs my hand and puts it back to where it was, cupped around his face, fingers running through his hair. 'No,' he shakes his head, slightly. 'I don't want you to stop.'

The butterflies burst back into the clearing that is my stomach, rumbling up through my chest. My fingers fall, and I'm staring at him a little open-mouthed, a little shocked. His answering grin sets off a blush on my cheeks.

I say the first thing I can manage. 'You expect me to touch you before we've even eaten? I'm starving.'

The spell is broken; he moves and tugs me along behind him. We weave through the crowds of people, all dressed in colours and joy. Children run in circles from parents and friends, screaming and laughing. I follow Hadrian's back as he pulls me towards open stalls of barbecues and sizzling meats, fizzing drinks and baked bread.

My mouth waters as we approach. Hadrian turns to me.

'What do you want?' he asks, and from his pocket he pulls out gold coins. I frown.

'Where did you get those?'

'Can't the God of Death earn a wage?' he winks, pressing the coins into my hand. 'Take your pick.'

'Did you steal these?' I whisper to him, lowering my voice as to not cause alarm. The stall owners are too busy serving the queues of people, anyway. With Hadrian's reassurance that he did not steal the coins but earned them, I sigh and choose the emptiest stall, the one without any customers.

At my approach, the young man behind the stall brightens.

'Hello, hello!' he calls. I sigh inwardly that he's not speaking another language. Considering I don't know where I am, I'm lucky. At my shoulder, Hadrian peers at what he's selling.

Intricate, tiny pastries. He points out each one to us; saffron, tarragon, beef, mint, cheese, red pepper— my stomach grumbles as he rattles off flavours from what must be every corner of the world. Minoa specialised in fish, fish, fish.

'I want anything without fish,' I say promptly, and the man looks taken aback. Then he grins.

'Miss, most of my pies don't have fish.'

'Then I want them all!' I exclaim, and I'm joking until Hadrian slams down coins on the counter.

'To go, please,' he adds, and the man's face goes from tentative to delighted. Within moments, my hands are laden with boxes of pies, and our commotion has brought a crowd of customers. Steering me out of harm's way, Hadrian grabs my elbow with his remaining free hand.

'Can you wait here for a second?' he asks, twisting his head. I nod, unable to move with my arms so full. We're attracting a lot of curious stares. Hadrian darts away. There's a few uncomfortable minutes as I try not to stare at anyone in particular in case I make eye contact.

Before I can complain, he's back, and smiling in relief. He takes half of the boxes and asks me to follow. We steer through the crowds, my attention focused on not losing Hadrian.

The edge of the market erupts instantly, moving from loud and filled with music, to quiet and distant. Grasses grow up around our feet, and the soil gets considerably damper underfoot, until I realise we're approaching water. Over the ferns, a vast lake spreads out, capturing the expansive sun as it approaches its surface, a ball of fire ready to be put out underneath the still waves.

Beyond the bushes is a small dock of rowboats. One, painted red, sits moored and waiting. Hadrian proceeds towards it.

'You have a boat?' I hear myself ask.

He shrugs. 'I rented it, actually. For today. That's where I was just now— checking that it was still there to use.'

My footsteps seem unnecessarily loud as I step onto the wooden platform, arms filled with pie, and gulp down at the boat. Hadrian has decorated it in tartan blankets, candles, and what looks like a bottle of wine with glasses.

Again, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

'Are candles wise in a wooden boat?'

He gives me a sarcastic reply. 'As long as they're not hotter than you.'

As we clamber aboard, the boat rocks from side to side, and I find myself in an oddly squat position trying to balance. Hadrian's face is wiped a little too straight for my liking. I sit back on the blanketed seats and try to look dignified. When he sits down opposite me, I take the oars.

'Ready to go?' I say.

'You're rowing?' he interjects.

'Is that a problem?' I counter, eyebrow raised.

He shakes his head in slow realisation, as if uncertain. 'I guess...I just pictured it differently.'

'I want to row. You can take over when I get tired.'

I push off from the side and sweep the oars through the glassy water. The lake is still, the surface rippling as we glide over it. The noise of the festival has faded, and with it, the light. The sky has become a haze of orange and purple, in preparation for a parade of stars. The trees that line the lake, and the mountains around them, are light and dark silhouettes, like coals within a fire. Dragonflies flit over the lake surface, reflecting pale imitations of the colours above it.

'So, navigator,' I say in between strokes, the water sloshing with each one. 'Where to?'

'I thought you were navigator.'

'You thought wrong. I'm clearly Captain.'

'A Captain doesn't do the dogsbody work.'

I pass him the oars with impressive speed. 'There. Am I a captain now?'

Hadrian, surprised at the turn of stations, tips his head back and laughs. He takes up rowing, and the boat floats slowly into the lake's middle.

After a few minutes, he pauses. 'I'm not sure if you've passed the rank of quartermaster yet, love.'

I cross my arms and glare. 'You're not sure? I'm captain and I say so.'

There's a glint in his eye as he smiles back. 'Maybe there's been a mutiny. Would you like to contest for the position of captain?'

'That's stupid,' I huff. 'Of course I'll damn well contest for it.'

The grin on his face widens. 'Fantastic. Shall we play now?'

'I need my captaincy back as soon as possible; I hear stupid has taken over.'

Hadrian shrugs. 'So if you win, you can be captain. You can tell me what to do all evening. I will obey without question.'

'Was that supposed to be sexual?' I roll my eyes.

'If I win...' Hadrian continues.

'You won't,' I assure him.

'...then you have to sit on my lap for the remainder of the boat journey.'

It's a good job I'm not still holding the oars, because they would be in one of two places by now: dropped in surprise and at the bottom of the deep lake, or buried within Hadrian's skull.

I scowl instead. 'Why?'

'Because I'd like it,' he says earnestly. His eyes meet mine, and I suddenly feel vulnerable, as though he can read right through my thoughts and pounding heart.

I turn my head to look at the bottom of the boat, at the food waiting for us to be eaten.

'Well let's start then,' I say. 'What do you have in mind? A riddle? A challenge? Do I have to deliver an item to a faraway place?'

He gives me a confused look. 'No. I'm just going to flip a coin.'

'Oh,' I say. 'That's a lot of luck, then.'

Am I disappointed or relieved? Do I want to win...or lose?

'What side do you want?' Hadrian asks, pulling a gold coin from his pocket.

I choose tails. I always choose tails. Tails, despite being equal odds, usually wins for me.

The coin flips over in countless perfect tumbles, before landing back on Hadrian's palm.

It's the first heads up I've had in years.

----

A/N: Do you like the start of their date? And what do you think will happen now Ness has to sit on Hadrian's lap for the remainder of the boat ride? ;)

Any suggestions? ;)

lots of love

Larissa

xxxxxx