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“This again?” At my indifferent expression, he mused, “Sometimes you remind me of that woman.”
“Woman?” I furrowed my brows.
“Yes,” he said. “A woman adorned in gold who once swallowed the star this planet should have orbited.”
I just looked at him, unsure how to proceed.
“But that’s all in the past.” At my abject confusion, the self-proclaimed god said, “If you do not take my offer, you will be caught in customs you barely comprehend.”
I clenched my fists. The only thing which prevented my bleeding was the fact that my violin required me to keep my nails short. “Very well, I accept.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I knew you would see it my way.”
“The answer to your question…” I clawed at my skirt. “It’s that the sound of the birds you spoke about are ugly.”
“Ug…ly?”
“Yes,” I said. “If it was the nightingale or even something like a mockingbird or sparrow it would make sense, but owls are detestable.”
“And why are they so detestable?”
I took a deep breath. “Owls are vicious and violent creatures who coo only for the hunt. They neither sing nor make merry. The strigaix, for all their faults, are fond of music. They sing and dance and play instruments. Such creatures could not possibly be the same as the owl.”
He threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed for so long that I was sure there would be no end. Then a quiet louder than any song overtook the ballroom.
He approached me. “Now it is my turn to repay you.”
* * *
After telling me what he intended on telling me, the self-proclaimed god vanished. In an instant, the soothing music, chatter and crowd of the ballroom returned. I searched around for familiar faces and spotted the blood slave and freewoman who always accompanied the Emerald Lady dancing. A few of the strigaix were dancing with soon-to-not-be tribute girls, but the one I was looking for had yet to arrive.
“Isn’t it funny?”
I nearly jumped at the voice which whispered in my ear. Turning around, I relaxed to see it was only the Emerald Lady. Instead of speaking, I turned my head to the side.
She gestured to the blood slave and freewoman dancing. “They may choose their love, but we may not.”
I frowned. She couldn’t know about my shade. “I no understand.”
She laughed. “Did you know my Lord once loved a strigaix?”
“What?”
“It was before either of us even met.” She looked out into the dancefloor. “But when I was new to this region, far from the glowing forests of my childhood, everyone made it their business to tell me how he didn’t really love me and that his heart had been stolen by a strigaix of frost without the gift to move ice.”
Unable to find the right words, I merely regarded her.
“I’m happy. I truly am,” she elaborated. “Even if I cannot love the way those two can, and I was not my mate’s first love, the feelings that I share with him are real.”
“Why?” Why are you telling me this?
“I’m fond of you. I really am, and that doesn’t happen very often.” Her eyes lingered on her mate’s, who was on the other side of the dancefloor. “That’s why I thought it best to tell you that whatever you’ll feel when you meet him, it will all work out in the end.”
Before I could ask her what she meant, she vanished into the crowd, likely towards the tall strigaix who always watched her with abject affection. I was about to consider the meaning behind the Emerald Lady’s words, but the warning of the self-proclaimed god invaded my thoughts.
“When he comes, he will ask you to dance. You cannot refuse and must dance with him the length of three songs.”
I shook the self-proclaimed god’s voice out of my head and concentrated on the ballroom, but there were too many people. Each attendee was wrapped in a coat of thick perfume blending with the next, making it impossible to distinguish one person from another.
