“Orange is the color of mothers and life,” said Ōbhin. “A woman will paint it on her mask to indicate her hope of having children while on a man’s gloves it’s a boast of his virility.”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks warming up. “I think we call those codpieces.”
He chuckled and she found herself giggling.
“One of the daughter colors of orange is amber. It’s used by women to represent motherhood. They will mark their masks’ cheeks with accents for each of their children they are proud of.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I suspect my mother has one less adorning her mask.”
“You don’t know that,” Avena said, not wanting to open old wounds. Those could bleed the worst.
“I killed the son of our satrap. Our king.”
“Well, green then,” she said, wanting to get away from that color. It seemed safe. The Colour of Forgiveness, emeralds, and strength.
“Men who work outside in the forests wear green gloves. It means they’re close to the mountains and Vatsim, who is the Tone of the Mountains and the Earth. Viridian, a daughter hue, is seen as a deeply masculine color. It’s a common one for soldiers to dye their gloves. A woman who paints it on her mask is declaring her independence and her self-sufficiency.”
“So you wore viridian gloves normally?” She pictured him with that bright and happy color. The shade of grass and the leaves of the rhododendron bushes dotting Dualayn’s estate.
“Purple, actually.”
“Oh, really?” she said, fascinated by this. “Purple? I never would have pictured you in that shade.”
“It’s the color of fatherhood and protection,” he said. “It’s the other color soldiers wear. To express their desire to protect.”
That was the Ōbhin she loved. That desire might fill him too strongly sometimes, but it made him special. Focusing on this helped to keep her anchored in her body.
“Women rarely wear pure purple, but mauve is often used by virgins to declare they are protecting their virtue.” He snorted. “It was seen as provincial in Gunya, the capital. Something country girls wore who didn’t know the delights the flesh offered.”
She bit her lip, for a moment, as the desire to experience those delights rippled through her, but the unease lurking in her belly won out. She wanted their first time to be special, not when she hovered on the cusp of losing her mind. She clasped his hand tighter, fingers fuzzing.
“Still, I have a hard time imagining you in purple,” she said, a smile playing on her lips.
“It’s a very manly color,” he said, masculine pride rearing through him.
“Maybe in Qoth.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I’d like to see you in purple anyways.”
“Maybe,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “I do miss it, Avena. Every direction you look, peaks rise around you. They all have names. Histories. I grew up in Dhoseth Valley in the shadow of Mount Qaari. He wasn’t the biggest mountain. Certainly not one of the Seven which ring Gunya, but every morning as a child I woke to see him out my window. Looming there, perpetually capped in ice. He wore it like a man wears his gloves, never taking them off. Sometimes, clouds would surround his flank, and other times, a dome of them would hover over his peak. He’s a fire mountain.”
“A volcano?” Avena asked. “Did you ever see it erupt?”
“Only belch the occasional burst of steam. They’re deadly when they erupt.” His expression darkened. “The day I killed Taim, Sunset’s Tower erupted. It shook the ground so much the arena where we were dueling cracked. The sand flowed like water and dragged us into the old mines beneath Gunya.”
“How dreadful.” Avena studied his face, hating the way his eyes shadowed.
“Yeah.” Ōbhin glanced at the window. “I marched onto the Sands of Truth thinking I would prove my innocence. I believed Taim was a villain who’d forced my beloved Foonauri to be his wife. I learned the opposite in those dark tunnels. I learned what sort of man I am.”
“Was.” Her hand touched him over his heart. She spread her fingers wide, feeling the heat of him. The pounding of his life. “That’s not who you are. You’ve changed, Ōbhin. You’ve almost polished the stains from your diamond-bright soul. I can see it.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I wanted to kill Dualayn.” He pulled her hand away from his chest. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed it. “Just like I wanted to kill Taim for what he claimed about Foonauri.”
“Taim wasn’t lying, but Dualayn is a maggot writhing through the muck.” She turned her hand and entwined her fingers with his. “What sort of man, what sort of person, wouldn’t want to inflict pain on him for the things he did? But you didn’t act on the impulse.”
“Only to save you.” Ōbhin shifted.
“You. Didn’t. Actions matter.” She felt the strange tingles fading. The interference was ending. “What will you do when he repairs me?”
“I don’t know.”
She squeezed his hand. “I do. You’re walking a better path, Ōbhin.” She lifted her head. “You could steal another kiss. I wouldn’t mind some pleasant dreams for a change.”
He smiled and leaned down. Hot lips seized her. She squeezed his hand tight, her eyes closing. The exhaustion of the day’s travel weighed down on her. She broke the kiss and murmured, “Blessed night, Ōbhin.”
“May your fire burn strong through the night,” he whispered.
She rolled onto her side, still holding his hand. He pressed into her from behind, spooning her. She had no fear as she surrendered to her dreams.
After some time, she found herself walking with Chames. The dream didn’t surprise her. She accepted it as she clung to his arm. He was young and handsome, standing
