Sareem returned with a plate of hot lemon cakes. Vhalla blinked. Even though lemons were in season in the West, they were still expensive after the cost to cart them South.
“If I recall, your favorites are lemon things.” He settled across from her.
“They are.” The corners of her mouth tugged in a determined smile. He had been paying attention to her for longer than she realized. Pinching one of the dense cakes with her fingers, Vhalla popped it into her mouth.
“These are good,” she said with a hint of surprise.
“Are they?” He rested his chin in his palm, reaching for her free hand. “I’m very glad; I had them made especially for you.”
Vhalla blinked and blushed faintly. “Thank you, Sareem.” To make a point she quickly grabbed for another and took a more girlish bite.
“You know, I’ve wanted to do this since we were fourteen.” She made a small questioning sound and he continued, allowing her to chew. “You’re that girl, Vhalla. The one that you just know is special. So much so that it’s almost something you feel like you can’t touch or you’ll break it.” He let out an embarrassed laugh. “It must sound silly.”
Vhalla shook her head. “No, no it doesn’t. I know that feeling exactly,” she said softly.
He beamed. “I always hoped you felt the same.” He squeezed her hand, and she realized he had misunderstood her. She had not been referring to him. “All of this is like a dream, and I want to give you everything you could ever want.” He picked up a lemon cake and took a bite himself.
Vhalla attempted to say something in return but she fumbled over her words. They all sounded cheap or false. In the end she changed the subject. “Why do you live in the palace?” she asked. He made a noise of confusion and tilted his head. “Your father came here from Norin in the late Empress’s gift party to the Empire. Why don’t you live in your family’s home?”
“Ah, well, my family lives down in Oparium,” he answered. Vhalla only knew town at the base of the Southern Mountains because it was home to the old port of the Empire, before they conquered the West and took Norin’s port. “My father lived in the palace initially, but he met a girl down in the shipyard and, well, his business trips became more frequent until he moved to be with her. Funny how that happens, you wed those you work with.”
“Funny, right...” Vhalla mumbled and desperately wanted to change the topic from marriage. “Do you enjoy living in the Capital?”
“I do,” Sareem answered with a nod. “Oparium gets some exotic things through the port, but nothing is quite like living in the Capital. I hope to someday raise my children here.”
“Your parents, are they still alive?” Vhalla was growing tired of changing the subject and busied her mouth with the last of the lemon cakes.
“They are,” he replied. “And yours?” Vhalla shook her head. Sareem’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“My father is, but my mother died when I was ten, while my father was doing his duty to the Empire during the War of the Crystal Caverns.” She paused. “I was sick with Autumn Fever. My mother fell ill after me; she never recovered.”
Sareem frowned. “I remember you telling me you had the illness before, but I never realized...I am so sorry.” His voice was low and his expression serious.
“I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it.” If Vhalla said it was easy now, it would be a lie. There were times when she wanted her mother more than anything in the world. But she had reached a point where it no longer hurt to the point of tears to think on it.
“Let’s find a good spot for the jugglers. I don’t want any sad thoughts today.”
He stood. She followed, and Sareem took her hand again.
The central square of the capital was a large area that could hold hundreds people. It had a mosaic of the sun and moon in their eternal dance sprawled beneath the feet of those gathering around a central stage. The crowd was beginning to thicken, and it was soon shoulder-to-shoulder.
Six people, men and women, took the stage. Vhalla was entranced. She had never seen Northerners before, she realized. Vhalla was certain she would have remembered a green person. Their skin was a deep forest viridian, with swirling dots and embellishments in silver. Combined with their masks carved from tree bark, they were like mystical creatures and completely mesmerized her.
A woman walked across the edge of the stage, then faced the crowd who had gathered on all sides. “Good people of the South.” Her accent was thick and muffled through the faceless mask she wore. “We have come under flags of peace to break bread with you. For your fine hospitality, we would like to provide some light entertainment in honor of your Mother Sun.”
They started juggling simple objects: sacks of beans and leather balls. The crowd began to ooh and aah as they added daggers and swords into the mix. The Northerners began moving and tossing the variety of objects to each other until all six were involved in a circular pattern of thrown objects. Vhalla was stunned by their control and deft hands. They made it look easy in their fearlessness.
When the show came to a close, a roar of applause rang out and the six took a bow. The same woman walked to the edge of the stage again.
“Good people, I hope you enjoyed today’s show. We hope you can make it for all of our shows leading up to our grand finale on the night of the Gala.” The woman held out her arms. “Tell all your friends!” She gave a wave with both hands and led her companions off the stage.
“I wonder what they’ll do for the finale...” Vhalla pondered aloud.
“We can find out, together. Come with me.” Sareem smiled and took her hand.
“You know I’m not one for the crowds on the last night of the festival,” she murmured a half-hearted excuse.
“Two isn’t a crowd.” Sareem began leading her away from the square in the slowly dissipating mass of people. “It would only be you and I.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Vhalla bit her lower lip, conflicted. Sareem hadn’t been doing a poor job, and the advice of the older ladies from the palace resonated back to her. Marry young and fulfill the natural role of a woman. Sareem clearly cared for her. She glanced up at him and was rewarded with a warm smile.
“All right,” Vhalla agreed softly. “I’ll meet you.”
“Meet me at The Golden Bun,” he pointed to the bakery as they passed down the road. “When the moon is one third in the sky. The finales normally happen at the moon’s apex so that’ll give us plenty of time. I know how girls like to get ready.”
Sareem laughed, and Vhalla tried to laugh along. She had no interest in getting ready for a second date with Sareem. Doubt was already tinting the edges of her decision, but he seemed so happy about it all that she had not the faintest inkling for how to back out of it now.
“Speaking of getting ready and fancy clothes and all...” Sareem looked up at the sky. “It’s almost time for the noon precession of Senators.”
As they climbed up the sloping, winding roads into the nicer area of town, the houses began to shift from white plaster to stone and solid wood construction. He led her in a direction she had never been before and the houses became even more opulent. Iron fences and tall hedges enclosed homes that actually had a rare small yard or garden. Almost every house had a noble seal upon it bearing a region of the Empire or a family crest, most Vhalla did not recognize nor have any interest in. Some houses had two flags; one that was the signet of the Empire, and another that was the signet of a country or region.
“The ones with two flags are senators’ homes. Those without are simply members of the Court,” Sareem pointed out. “It’s not a bad job, get a house and all with the position.” Vhalla stared in awe; some houses even had colored glass window designs like the library. “Of course, you have to be elected to the Senate, so I’m told it’s not an easy job to get.”