“Got you drunk, did he?” Ōbhin asked, the heat of the beer radiating through his body. Her blush deepened while a fond smile spread across her lips. Ōbhin chuckled.
It felt nice.
Avena leaned back in her chair, expression transforming to that of a young girl, eyes starry with excitement. He remembered seeing similar eyes peering through a mask, dark and lovely. Remembering that day brought a wide smile to his lips.
“We were promised, so I don’t think we were being too improper.” Her smile grew. “We were sixteen, and he was so gallant.”
His memories rose to Foonauri’s mask. How his naked hands had trembled as he’d peeled it back for the first time and gazed upon her face. He’d witnessed Foonauri’s delicate features, cheeks blushed dark with maidenly passion, lips wet and plump and eager to be claimed.
The first of many delights he’d seized from her that magical night. He thought he’d found his eternity in her embrace. Reliving it didn’t hurt for once.
*
Avena smiled. Warmth, wholly unconnected to the beer, suffused her as it rippled out of her nethers. It filled that emptiness lurking. It was a delight to remember how that day started. Warm and shining, winter’s grip had finally released the world to spring’s shining brilliance.
She studied Ōbhin. Young, like Chames, handsome and strong. He had the shadow in his eyes, the past pain that made her want to soothe him. The scar on his cheek flexed as he smiled. Dangerous. A dashing man who fought. Who acted. He’d stood up for his friend. As lost as he was in the darkness, he’d shown mercy to him.
She missed Chames. He’d had a zest. Life had bled out of him and filled her. The smile on Ōbhin’s face shone with remembered happiness. It transformed him in this one moment. It made her want to share her own memories with him.
“I begged Chames to take me from the house,” she said, aching to speak of that joy. “The sun had emerged from winter’s gray, warmth finally discovering Kash. He filched food from the kitchen, out from beneath Kaylin’s nose. Back then, the cook had a temper for those who trespassed on her domain. Lunch in hand, we strolled towards this secluded part of Lake Ophavin.”
The words poured out of her, the dam of emotions holding back her memories broken. A gush of warmth spilled through her as Ōbhin’s darkness retreated. She saw in his eyes that he understood that heady delight of youth, that bubbly cocoon of love found in the company of that special person.
“We found a cozy spot, secluded by a little willow tree and reeds of the lake. A blue-throated heron waded in the rushes. Chames spread his coat out as a blanket. I didn’t even hesitate to sip the strawberry currant.” The heat intensified while her smile grew. She could see the spring day, the sky blue save for a gray smear on the horizon.
Birds sang in celebration. Small frogs ribbitted in counter harmony. The sun had warmed her face as the strawberry liquor melted on her tongue.
“I felt so alive,” she said, her brown eyes grown starry. “You know?”
He answered with a nod, his own smile bursting with life.
“I don’t even remember how it happened. He was just closer and closer. Maybe I drifted to him. We kissed and . . .” Fiery memories rose, ones she felt in the cold hours of her bed. This was too personal to share, how her love had melted her and Chames together. There had been pain, but the sacrifice was worth what followed. Glorious rapture. A union with him. She’d never been happier. “We were promised,” she repeated. “Practically a mix of our Colours.”
“You Lothonians put too much shame on passion,” he said. “Don’t be ashamed. It is beautiful when two hearts unite. When they sing to the same Tone.” He looked at his black gloves. “We were even promised, as you put it.”
“So you have loved someone,” Avena said. “Good.”
“From when I was a boy. She inspired me.” His expression darkened into that loss she knew far too well.
“Did she . . . ?” Avena found her voice choking off.
“She still lives,” he said, his voice flat. His almond-shaped eyes grew distant. “My father is a nobleman, but low-ranked. A merchant whose hands stank of rotten leather, as they say. Nobles one step up from peasants.”
Avena nodded. Evane had always loved hearing of tragic romances of princesses who loved a knight or soldier or squire but couldn’t marry him for the sake of Lothon. Avena reached her hand across the table to grip Ōbhin’s. She felt the worn yet supple texture of the mink leather.
She squeezed.
“I left our valley for the capital,” he said after a few heartbeats. A raw vein cracked the tenor of his words. “I thought to win prestige and rank in the palace guard. She promised to wait for me. I learned the challenges of fighting with and against resonance blades. Within a year, I was a . . . a . . .” He frowned and muttered a Tethyrian word, musical and flowing. “A lieutenant, yes? Junior officer?”
She nodded, enthralled by his account. The beer and her own memories made her feel buoyant, drifting with his story.
“She . . . Lady Foonauri of Lautsinee came to court the way young women would.” He shifted. “She came for me.”
Avena smiled in delight as a brilliance showed in his dark eyes and dusky features, banishing the last traces of his shadow.
*
The memory of Foonauri appearing at court in her sapphire-blue and deep-purple lehenga choli, a two-piece dress, soared in his mind. He remembered the fringe of silver tassel dangling across her bare belly. The
