Chapter 4 RIBBONS

~LYRA~

The morning after Selene’s birthday dawned brighter than I expected, with thin shafts of sunlight cutting through the clouds like hesitant promises. I woke early, my dark purple hair a tangled mess across the pillow, strands catching the light in deep violet hues that always looked a little too wild, a little too out of place.

Downstairs, the house already hummed with activity. Mother moved between the kitchen and the front room, her golden-yellow hair, bright like fresh cheese in the morning glow neatly pinned as she folded linens and muttered about last minute preparations for the Choosing.

“Selene needs to look her best,” she kept saying, her voice carrying that familiar mix of excitement and quiet pressure. “The dragons notice details. Posture, poise, even the little ribbons in your hair.”

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her. Mother’s movements were efficient, almost graceful, the same way she must have been when she briefly rode her wind sprite dragon years ago. Selene sat at the small table, her own sunny yellow hair still sleep-mussed but already shining, nibbling on a leftover piece of birthday cake. She caught my eye and offered a small, conspiratorial smile.

“Morning, Lyra,” she said softly. “You look like you didn’t sleep much.”

I shrugged, running a hand through my purple locks. They felt heavy today, like they carried the weight of my secrets. “Just thinking about your big day coming up. The Ceremony’s the day after tomorrow. You ready?”

Selene’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. “I think so. Mother keeps saying everything will be perfect.” She glanced toward the front room where Mother was now sorting through a box of old trimmings. “She wants me to wear ribbons. Something delicate to match the dress.”

That was my opening. I stepped fully into the kitchen, the wooden floor cool under my bare feet. “Actually, I was thinking… why don’t we go to the market today? Just the two of us. I can help you pick out some ribbons for your hair. My birthday gift to you, something special, not from the usual stall. We’ll find the prettiest ones, maybe with a bit of shimmer that catches the light when you move.”

Selene’s eyes lit up immediately. “Really? Mother, can we? Lyra’s right, the market has better choices than the local shops.”

Mother paused, wiping her hands on her apron. Her golden braid swung as she turned, her expression softening when it landed on Selene but tightening just a fraction when she looked at me. “The market? It’s busy this time of year with everyone preparing for the Choosing crowds. I don’t know, girls. There are pickpockets, and the lower stalls can be rough.”

I kept my voice steady, casual, like this was just a simple sister outing and not the perfect cover for slipping away. “I’ll watch out for her. We won’t stay long. Besides, it’ll be good for Selene to get out and see a bit of the town before everything gets serious. Fresh air, a little adventure. What do you say?”

Mother hesitated, her gaze flicking between us. She always favored Selene’s ideas, especially when they came wrapped in that gentle hopefulness. With me, it was different, practical concerns, reminders of boundaries. My purple hair probably didn’t help; it stood out like a bruise against their sunny heads, a constant reminder that I didn’t quite fit the mold.

“Fine,” she said at last, with a small sigh. “But be back before the afternoon crowds thicken. And Lyra, keep an eye on your sister. No detours.”

“No detours,” I echoed, crossing my heart with exaggerated seriousness. Inside, my pulse quickened. Detours were exactly the plan.

Selene jumped up, hugging Mother quickly before grabbing her shawl. “Thank you! Come on, Lyra, let’s go before she changes her mind.”

We slipped out the door into the bustling streets of the lower district. The air carried the mingled scents of fresh bread from nearby ovens, damp earth from last night’s rain, and the distant metallic tang of the forges where they mended rider harnesses. Our house sat on the edge of the modest quarter, close enough to the Academy walls that you could sometimes hear the faint roar of dragons training beyond the barriers.

People moved around us, merchants hauling carts, children chasing each other, a few older riders in faded cloaks nodding greetings.

Selene walked beside me, her yellow hair catching the light like polished gold. “I can’t believe Mother said yes so easily. Usually she’d insist on coming along herself.”

I nudged her shoulder gently. “She trusts me with you. Mostly. And she knows you deserve something fun before the big day. Now, about those ribbons… we’ll look, I promise. But first, I have a better idea for part of your gift.”

Selene tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Oh? What’s that?”

“Honey cakes,” I said with a grin. “The real ones from Old Mira’s stall in the lower market—the ones with the extra drizzle of spiced honey that melts in your mouth. Not the dry ones Mother buys. My treat. We’ll sneak them in and eat them on the way back so she doesn’t fuss about spoiling your appetite.”

Selene laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made a few passersby smile. “You’re the best big sister. But if we get caught with sticky fingers…”

“We won’t,” I assured her, linking my arm through hers. “We’re quick. And it’s your birthday celebration, extended edition.”

The walk to the lower market took us through winding alleys lined with colorful awnings and stalls overflowing with goods. Vendors called out their wares, fresh fruits, woven scarves, small charms said to bring luck with dragons. The energy felt electric, charged with the anticipation of the upcoming Choosing.

Banners fluttered overhead depicting stylized wings and lightning motifs. My own dark purple hair drew a few curious glances, as it always did. One old woman muttered something about “storm-touched” under her breath, but I ignored it, focusing instead on Selene’s excited chatter about what kind of dragon she hoped might choose her.