“And what if it hadn’t been me at the door?” he snapped. “What if someone who doesn’t know saw?” Her features relaxed a little thinking of that.

“Vhalla,” he cooed, walking over to her, “you look absolutely stunning. Let’s go have a perfectly normal day, just you and I?”

She almost refused, her stomach felt suddenly unsettled. But his hand was at the small of her back leading her out into the hall beyond. Taking advantage of Aldrik being nowhere nearby, Vhalla wrung her hands with purpose.

They walked out of the staff gate nearest Vhalla’s room. It was called a gate but it was little more than a back door with a guard stationed outside. It led into the middle class area of the city. The houses were clean and well kept, but the roofs were simply thatched, rather than possessing clay or wooden tiles that could be found higher up the mountain. Some had peeling paint, if painted at all, and only about half possessed any glass in their windows. It was the home of the common folk.

Everyone seemed to be in a spirited mood for the Festival of the Sun. Women walked around in frocks and simple dresses. Children begged to attend this or that event. Men laughed and played music in the streets. Every fountain was flowing with water from the city’s aqueducts, no matter the time of day. Judging from the swagger of some, not only water was flowing.

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.