Another month went by, and the Tavla's birthday was around the corner. We had been practicing so much, that I hadn't realized the excited buzz within the palace until Xīwàng sat me down in a chair and let me know what he'd planned.
"Since you missed your own birthday, I'd like to share mine with you." He beamed at me. He always smiled when we met up, now that we'd put our differences behind us. It was harder to win Perron back. He was still training me, but not with any good will. Sera had just grown quieter. She kept her mask on now at all times.
"What day is your birthday?" I asked as I pushed away these thoughts. Everyone was crowing about it, but I hadn't heard an actual date from the servants, and Xīwàng had been quiet about it until then.
His grin faded into a sheepish smile. "I wasn't planning to celebrate it, but it is tomorrow," he admitted. "I wasn't going to, but then I realized my parents would have been sad to know I missed it. If I can help them rest peacefully, then I'll take that day to keep smiling for them. What better way to smile, then make the day special for you."
I felt a pang in my heart. My father loved making a big deal of my birthday. Xīwàng wanting to share his, sent echoes of my father through my mind. I tried to smile at him, but the tightening in my throat made it difficult.
He took my hand, oblivious to my dampening spirits. "The elders have asked that we perform the dance tomorrow. What say you about that?"
I squirmed at that but there was no reason not to. I could perform it with no errors - even the kiss. "Yes. It does seem to fit well with the day, doesn't it? Did you know the ancient god Shiva was known as the Lord of the Dance?"
Xīwàng smiled. "No, but that sounds a bit like Tav. Perhaps there's a mystery there."
Tomorrow evening, then, I would go to the temple and speak with one of the elders, and he or she would tell me what blessing Tav had for our union. That had me worried. It was one thing to complete this charade, but I wasn't sure what Faluel or Tav would think of such a thing. I doubted I would be given any blessing.
Xīwàng traced his fingertip down my cheek. "You seem unhappy."
I met his gaze and chose my words with care. Bringing up my worries about the dance would just be fruitless when I'd agreed to commit to this. I attempted another smile as I said, "Ah... it's nothing. Just thinking of my father. Birthdays were a special time for him. I'm really looking forward to spending your birthday with you. But..."
"...but it hurts to celebrate your own."
"Yes."
He touched my hair, then my hands. Gripping them, he pulled me up from my seat. "We'll go out into the city today."
I blinked up at him. "Are you sure, Xīwàng?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Well, there was the whole matter of Calashan women having to go around in palanquins. Just going out would involve me putting on a mask and being hidden away. Going into anyplace public wouldn't be much fun. I'd have to stay in the box. It was why, up until this point, I hadn't truly seen the city.
"Isn't Perron going to scold that Calashan women must never have fun? They can't be seen looking happy." I imitated his tone and voice, making Xīwàng grin.
"You and Perron are like oil and flame."
"Isn't the old saying oil and water?"
"Yes, but that is not how you and Perron are."
"So, who is the oil and who is the flame?"
"Ah, you are the flame, indeed. You rouse enormous reactions in others, and I've no doubt we'll be surrounded by ashes when this is over."
I laughed about this, because up until now I had always seen myself as an average Low just trying to pull my family out of the pit. I'd had some fortune and met some amazing people like Merx, Gladys, Governor Jatron, and now Xīwàng. That was all.
"I don't think that Perron would like to know you find him to be oily," I said as I covered my mouth to squelch a giggle.
My mirth was silenced with a kiss. When he drew away, I twisted my fingers together in awkward silence. We'd agreed that he could kiss me outside of the dance, but it still felt odd. Wrong.
The Beltritians were, to my surprise, quite affectionate with one another. The servants were often seen hugging one another, and Xīwàng often hugged Perron and Sera, exception of the "only god" rule since he was considered an avatar of Tav. It would be odd if the fiancée to the Tavla didn't allow him to touch her, but that didn't change my feelings.
"Come," he said gently, taking my hands again. "It will be fine. We won't stay out long - just enough time to visit the museums. You can try some of our street food. The fried saffron bread is not to be missed."
I allowed myself to be pulled towards the gates, wondering if perhaps he hadn't noticed how tense I was. As we reached the front courtyard of the palace, however, something caught Xīwàng's eye.
"Look!"
I turned to see what he was pointing a and froze. A huge banner stretched between the gates; it displayed images of dragons and flowers, but beneath it were printed the words: "Happy Birthday, Lady Jasni, My Only Solace."
It was a beautiful banner, and I was touched that he put so much thought into it, even cleverly including my name. But the sentiments should be directed to him since it was his birthday. I was about to protest, but then I heard a high-pitched screech, and a metal dragon walked under the banner towards us. It had emerald eyes, and its armor was a glimmering white metal, as if someone had somehow managed to smelt a diamond. Each scale had been crafted, then edged with what looked like small rubies.
What I didn't see was any magicores on its surface, even though it was immense. "What? How does it run without magicores? What feeds its magic?"
Xīwàng smiled, clearly proud of this new toy. "Magicores are not necessary. The dragon's power is extracted magic from our air. We have a way to make the magic in our air liquid along with the Sodeshi from Calasha." His brow furrowed slightly, as he studied the dragon. "Is it too large, I wonder? Would you feel safe riding it into the city?"
I was still hung up on the magicores. "You never use magicores here?"
He looked disgusted. "Never. Why would we ever use the hearts of the deceased to fuel our crafts? That is barbaric."
I opened my mouth, then shut it. I felt offended on behalf of my country. What was wrong with using the magicores if the deceased no longer had use for them? "It's how we in Sanfelton power our craft. We use magicores."
He blanched at my words. "Yes, I'm aware. Your country has dug the hearts out of many Beltritians."
His retort scalded me, and I flushed crimson. Yes, prisoners didn't last long in Sanfelton, especially war criminals. I shuffled back and forth, wanting to explain away the ugliness. "We're at war... no one is nice to each other when they're fighting." I tasted the bitterness of my rationalization and swallowed.
Xīwàng turned to me, no longer smiling. "No, I suppose not. Are you at war with me, Solace? Will you cut out my heart when all is said and done?"
I couldn't answer that question at the moment. My whole focus was simply to make those that did me wrong pay for the pain they put my family through. I wasn't sure what sort of person I'd be at the end of all this. I may indeed become a villain. Instead of answering, I walked towards the dragon and laid a hand on its side. The scales had been engraved with floral details, and I rubbed my finger over them in admiration. The dragon, as though it was alive, lowered its head and looked at me. A spicy incense billowed from its mouth as it blew smoke at me. I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face, glaring at it. That was intentional. I was sure of it. The creature had intelligence behind those emerald jeweled eyes. It no more approved of me than its master did.
"Solace?" Xīwàng sounded impatient.
I turned to him and bowed. "I don't know. I wouldn't literally dig your heart out, but I don't know if I won't break it. Knowing that, what will you do?"
He stepped forward and took me by the shoulders, making me face him. "I won't give up. Despite the wild barbarism of my Frelan, it's you I chose."
His tortured syllables ran deep nails into my conscience. Tomorrow was his birthday, and I was ruining it. I couldn't be the one responsible for ruining his birthday, not when he'd gone to so much trouble to share it with me. What could I do to make him smile again?
Giving into an impulse, and in a way that was decidedly not Calashan, I tugged the front of his saffron colored tunic and pulled him towards me, wrinkling the silk. His eyes did not give away his surprise, but his fingers twitched as he put a hand on my arm. I think he thought that I would hit him or start yelling in his face.
No, what I did was initiate a kiss for the very first time. It was the only way that I could think of to disarm him enough to end the argument. It was cowardly, manipulative, but it worked, because he inhaled quickly, then his hand moved from my arm to around my waist. The courtyard cleared of all servants as Xīwàng took the opening I gave to bury his other hand into my curls and tease my lips with the tip of his tongue until I parted them. He inhaled again, as if committing my taste, my scent, and my soul to his memory.
Although I had kissed him first, I hadn't truly engaged until then, simply intending to give him a present and assuage my guilt. My hands flew up and mussed his hair that had been artfully slicked back, as I caught fire from his passion. He always looked so serene and perfect, that I suppose I took pleasure that I had been the cause of his undoing. This was wrong, but he was not unhappy - not with the way his heart was crashing in his chest.
I pulled away first, and I had never seen his eyes so dilated. The lagoon had turned to an indigo sea, and it crashed violent waves against my psyche.
"That is a dangerous thing to do," he whispered against my lips, "when you do not love me."
I gasped as he pulled me by the hand and led me to the dragon. This time it was my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. I had almost kissed him again in that minute. I thought of Merx again and tried to use his memory as a barrier to what Xīwàng was doing to me, but the thought had grown thinner and was a poor shield.
Mounted and strapped into the gilded leather saddle on the dragon, Xīwàng rode behind me and kept his arm around my waist for the whole journey.
His last words rang in my head, and it wasn't from worry that I didn't love him, or that he might love me.
It was from a sinking fear that someday I might love him, and that would truly mean that I had lost everything.