Vhalla smiled at the white and gold pennons proudly displayed, the golden sun, symbol of the Mother and the Empire.

She saw one group of men hunched around some form of dice game. Shirts hung loosely about their shoulders with open ties in the front. No one wore no coats or jackets, and none seemed to be bothered that a portion of their chest was easily visible. Vhalla’s cheeks felt hot, and she could hardly stifle a nervous laugh as she tried to imagine Aldrik dressed so plainly, his chest on display.

“What is it?” Sareem had taken her hand while she was lost in thoughts.

“Oh nothing,” she murmured, still smiling at the image in her mind. “It’s just a lovely day.”

“It is. But you, my dear, are far lovelier than even the Mother Sun.”

Vhalla smiled nicely at Sareem; he was trying. “So, what will we be doing?” she inquired, trying to avoid the silence from stretching on for too long.

“Well, there is a wonderful bakery not far from here; I’ve frequented it often since I was a boy,” Sareem began. “Then I was thinking we could go watch the jugglers in the square.”

“There are jugglers?” Vhalla hadn’t been keeping track of the events very closely.

Sareem nodded. “A troupe of refugees from the North, I hear. They came South under the declarations of peace to find a better life and escape the war. I’ve heard the entertainment is their thanks for their liberation.”

Vhalla pondered this a moment, wondering if she too would willingly perform for people who took her home from her.

Sareem continued, “Then I was thinking that we could watch the procession of the senators. It’s a bit out of the way, but they’re dressed up like roosters and it is always good fun to laugh at them.”

“Haven’t we done that before?” Vhalla wondered aloud. She was struggling to remember if they had terrorized the Senators, or if it had been the Court escaping from its grand meeting hall in the palace.

“We have,” Sareem affirmed. “If I recall correctly I was able to make you laugh so hard you snorted like a pig.” Vhalla blushed, and pursed her lips in embarrassment. Sareem chuckled. “You’ve a lovely laugh, Vhalla, and I’d enjoy hearing it.”

She watched as he moved her hand up to his mouth, kissing its back. His fingers were intertwined with hers. Vhalla wanted to find a way that she thought they looked good together, but every time she did she kept remembering his prior reaction to her magic. But, if he was to be believed, his actions were purely shock.

“Well, if I enjoyed it so much last time,” she agreed weakly.

“I will make sure you enjoy yourself again, my dear,” he promised.

Vhalla forced a smile. She wasn’t about to let the unsettling feeling at the very pit of her core ruin everything. It was a nice day, and Sareem was a good friend. Seeing as how she had several hours with him ahead of her, Vhalla was inclined to give Sareem the benefit of the doubt.

They settled at a bakery called The Golden Bun. It was not far from the main square, and Sareem sat her down at an outside table at her request. He pulled out her chair, placed a small kiss on her temple, and then went to fetch the food. She wished he wouldn’t be so forward in public.

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.”