"The mistress would like a private word with you, miss."

Mai braced herself for trouble – no invitation to a special, private conversation with her mother had ever been followed by anything good. She closed her eyes, took one deep breath, then opened her eyes and rose from her bed, the knife she'd been twirling disappearing into her sleeve. She followed the servant down the hall without a word, allowing herself one sigh when they reached the door to her mother's chambers – a luxury she would not be able to indulge beyond them, not if she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

A few light knocks later, and the maid was opening the door. Mai saw her mother sitting at the tea table but, to her surprise, no other servants in the room – not a good sign. "Did you have a good birthday, Mai?" her mother asked.

The most boring, pointless celebration you've thrown yet, Mai thought to herself. Without moving from where she stood, she answered simply, "Yes, Mother, thank you," as she was expected to say. As she spoke, her mother gestured her forward. Taking care to leave no part of her posture or movement open for criticism, Mai sat down at the table. There was no teapot or cups – also a bad sign. This meeting hadn't been scheduled for boring but brief instructions about some breach of etiquette, embarrassing speech, or some other flaw in her behavior she needed to promise never to do again but for something requiring more time and attention.

"Good. You should have enjoyed it." This was said almost like an order.

"Why wouldn't I enjoy it?"

"I'm glad you appreciate it." Had she said that? Well, so much the better for her chances of quick escape. "I must say, I was very impressed with how well you conducted yourself tonight. All my friends say you're growing into quite an elegant young lady."

My greatest goal in life. Mai imagined herself rolling her eyes but kept her face and voice unchanged as she said, "I had no idea."

"Yes, I had my doubts, but I can see now you'll make a fine lady yet." This wasn't fair – Mai had made sure to behave perfectly during that ridiculous dinner and party so there would be no need for conversations like this afterwards! "Your father and I are both very proud of you."

Of what? My ability to sit still and say, "That's nice," over and over again? "Thank you." That was the safest thing to say.

"You've grown up so much, Mai." Her mother looked at her with the same appraising look she gave an expensive new necklace as she took it out of the box. "Everyone's beginning to notice, you know."

Mai said, "I had no idea" before she remembered she'd used that line already.

Fortunately, her mother either didn't notice or didn't mind. "Of course – you do realize you're fifteen-years-old now?"

No, I forgot how old I am – thanks for reminding me. She allowed herself to say, "Thank you for reminding me" in a flat voice, deciding that could not be unequivocally proven as hostile.

Her mother bowed her head slightly. "Yes, which means we need to discuss some things. It's time we began thinking about your future." By "we," you mean you. Mai thought she could sense where this was heading now, but she said nothing – the less she contributed, the longer she could put it off. "A girl of your station should be engaged by now." So much for that hope. "Your father and I had all this planned years ago, but, unfortunately, things have changed."

You don't say? Taking the hint, Mai said, "I'm sorry," as if her parents were the ones hurt the most by the end of her engagement over a year ago. She turned her head aside and looked at the floor, rallying her strength for the incoming nonsense.

"It's not your fault, dear," her mother assured her. "In fact, we're both very pleased with how well you've handled things. You've made it clear to everyone that you haven't pined for him or dwelled on him, so everyone knows you don't harbor any foolish affection for the traitor, but you also haven't shown any interest in anyone else, so no one can think you fickle or unfaithful. I know it was a precarious balance to maintain, but you've proven yourself to be both a loyal Fire Nation citizen, yet loyal and respectful to your fiancé. I couldn't have asked for anything better. Your behavior throughout this difficult period has been flawless."

"I'm glad," Mai said sincerely – her efforts to protect herself from suspicion had been successful after all.

"Yes, it was necessary for you to wait a respectable period before moving on, and your father and I feel that you have done so. But you've waited long enough; if we want to make a suitable match before you're sixteen, it's time for that to end. You must now show everyone that you know you are worth more than a disgraced traitor and begin looking for someone more worthy of you."

Hey, it's not like you didn't know this day would come eventually. "I understand."

"Yes, it's unusual to start this late, but the circumstances are unusual. Of course, circumstances, albeit rarely as extreme as this, often force young men and women to start over – there's no shame in it. Your first engagement fell apart through no fault of your own; everyone knows you're not to blame."

"I'm so relieved," Mai said without looking up.

"Fortunately, it wasn't a total loss. I don't believe even your father would have been able to find so many opportunities on his own."

Seeing no reason to hide it, Mai now raised her head and turned toward her mother with a look of completely unfeigned confusion on her face. "What do you mean?"

Her mother smiled brightly. "That's good – you should never act like you're aware of it."

That's easy. "Aware of what?"

Her mother giggled. "Oh, there's no need to be so modest around me, Mai. I know you must be embarrassed, but your betrothal happened before he proved to be such a pathetic fool." Why couldn't she bear to say his name? Mai wondered in rising fury. "That ugly incident had nothing to do with you. All anyone remembers is that you're the girl who was engaged to the Fire Lord's son. The royal prince. The heir to the throne. You were judged worthy of marrying into the royal family. You would have been the next Fire Lady! Everyone knows that means you must be the best, and every man wants the best. Can you think of a single man in the Fire Nation who wouldn't be proud to marry a royal heir's fiancée? To have what the prince lost? To have the one girl good enough for royalty? Most girls consider it an honor if a worthy man chooses them; instead, every man will consider it an honor if you choose him. You can have your pick of any husband you want, and he'll be thrilled to boast that he has you, the woman who would have been Fire Lady! Oh, I know it's a disappointment to know that you lost that, but think of what you've gained! Next to the princess herself, my daughter is now the most desirable girl in the Fire Nation!"

Mai sat through that speech in a stupor, which her mother must have interpreted as polite attentiveness, but she regained consciousness when the silence that followed grew long enough to be awkward. She realized she was expected to say something. "I... hadn't noticed anything," she mumbled, too preoccupied with wondering if she was more disgusted with what her mother was saying or how she said it to think of something more creative.

Mai paid for her lapse of attention. "Now, Mai, it's important to appear modest, but don't go overboard. You must show you at least know you're worth the best and don't expect to settle for anything less."

"I agree," Mai said truthfully. She didn't add that the best was thousands of miles away at sea right now.

"But never bring up why. Men don't like to be reminded they're not the first, in any sense. Let him remind himself whom he's beaten; you remind him he never had any competition, never will, and never could."

"He doesn't, never will, and never could," she repeated obediently, turning aside again, as if afraid the image in her head might appear in her eyes.

"Very good." Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. "Your father said you would be difficult and make a big fuss about it, but I knew you would see reason."

She saw that being difficult or making a fuss would accomplish nothing. Mai closed her eyes and clenched her fist as she let the situation sink in. The small part of her she now realized had been foolish enough to hope that her parents wouldn't give up their dreams of fame and fortune so easily, that they would do nothing and wait to see if future circumstances would allow them to go through with their original plans for their daughter, had been wrong. They expected her to look for someone else. To find a different husband. To get engaged. To get married.

That wasn't going to happen. So what were her options? Could she talk them out of it? Play to their love for rank and status and social glory as if it were her own? Convince them not to give up hope of their daughter becoming the next Fire Lady? But what good would it do besides delay the misery? They wouldn't wait long enough for her to become a worthless old maid, and it was too much to hope that a triumphant Zuko would return with the Avatar in chains in time to stop her from walking down the aisle.

What would happen if she stood up and insisted she wasn't going to marry anyone, and they couldn't make her? They couldn't, but they would make her life miserable.

In that case, she could run away like girls in this situation always did. But then what if Zuko did return someday? Here, as his former fiancée, friend of the princess, and daughter of a respected Fire Nation noble, she had a chance to see him again. As a runaway disowned by her family, probably living on the streets, she really would have to forget about the prince forever; they could never be together, not without jumping through a lot of scandalous hoops that would ruin any chances of happiness.

Not for the first time, she wished she'd been sent away with Zuko when he was banished; had they been married, she no doubt would have been. If she knew where Zuko was, she would run away to join him right now; settling down to life as peasants in some remote Earth Kingdom village could only be an improvement over this house. But that wasn't possible now – if she ever saw him again, it would have to be as the restored prince of the Fire Nation.

She couldn't stop it. She couldn't escape it. But she wouldn't go quietly. She inwardly cringed as she pictured what the next few years would be like… better not think about it. Steeling herself for the explosion, Mai sighed and turned to look her mother straight in the eye. "Thank you for your efforts, Mother, but I'm not ready for marriage right now."

There was a pause as her mother processed the words. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not interested in getting married at this time."

"Of course you're not interested in anyone yet – you haven't been looking. It wouldn't have been proper. Don't worry, your father has found plenty of acceptable candidates; we're sure to find the best before long."

Mai let some bitterness seep into her voice. "I don't care if he's lined up every man in the Fire Nation, I don't want to get married. To anyone. At all."

"Now, Mai, show a little gratitude. It's not our fault the prince was banished. We're doing the best we can." Was she being intentionally deaf? "I know it sounds like a lot of work, but you can't put it off. If you don't make an effort now, everyone will wonder why. They'll think there's something wrong with you. You'll lose the advantage you've gained if you wait any longer."

"I don't care." It was only a whisper, but she shouldn't have said it.

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Of course not. You don't care about anyone but yourself. You'd rather let all our opportunities slip by than lift a finger to help your father and me. How can you be so selfish?" Mai had to grin at that. "You just expect us to produce a husband for you whenever the mood strikes your fancy someday?"

"You don't have to go to any trouble on my account."

"Good, then you won't make things difficult for us. You're a woman now, and it's time you started acting like one."

"By getting married? What is this, the Northern Water Tribe?"

"How dare you compare us to those barbarians? They treat their women like chattel. This isn't about being a good wife, it's about achieving a good marriage. Making the right match was just as crucial for your father's future as it was for mine."

"Let me worry about my future."

"So you can make fools of us? You expect us to throw away all our hard work?"

"I never asked you to work on anything."

"How could you expect otherwise?" Her mother finally seemed to be getting the true picture. "You've really never thought about marriage at all before now?"

"No." None that you'd want to hear about.

Her mother's eyes widened in shock. "But how? A girl your age, with your beauty and wealth and potential, how could the subject never cross your mind? There's no reason why you should expect you'd be alone forever."

"I don't." Nothing could be farther from the truth. She hoped.

"Then I don't understand. Why would a healthy young woman be so averse to the idea? You said yourself it's not as if you've ever..." She trailed off mid-sentence, and Mai sensed she was in danger for the first time.

She was ready for it, though. "That's the point," Mai said impatiently. "There's no one out there I want to marry right now." No one you'd bring me.

"But how do you expect to find a husband if you don't look for one?"

"I'll look when I'm ready."

"Why aren't you ready?" Mai could tell by the tone that her mother wasn't confident her suspicion was wrong.

"I'm just not. Do I need a reason?"

"You do."

Mai took a few extra seconds to plan her response. "I like being alone."

Her mother folded her arms. "If you refuse to enjoy it, that's your choice. Most girls would give anything to be in your place; it's a pity such good fortune and all our efforts have to be wasted on someone so ungrateful."

"I'd be grateful if you'd forget the whole thing for a while."

"I've already told you why that's out of the question. You will not make us the laughingstock of the city by becoming some hard-headed spinster while all our friends' daughters snatch up the good connections."

"And if I can't make a good connection?"

"There's no reason why you can't... is there?"

She'd pushed things as far as she could. "No." The only safe thing to do now was submit.

"Good. Then drop this absurd attitude and be reasonable. Trust me, you'll thank us for it someday." Mai was too angry to speak. She folded her arms and waited for her mother to accept she wasn't going to get an apology or thanks right now. At last, her mother sighed and shook her head. "I promise, we'll make it as easy on you as possible. We'll arrange all the meetings; all you have to do is show up and prove that they're right."

"Right about what?" Mai asked in spite of herself, her confusion once again overriding her disgust.

"About your value as a wife. You will be polite to them all. You will act like a lady. You will remind them you're the girl the prince wanted."

Mai couldn't resist smiling as she imagined how the men she was going to meet would react if she acted the way the prince would have wanted. "I can do that."

"You will," her mother said firmly. "The meetings start next week, so be ready."

Mai didn't frown, didn't groan. "Have it your way." Don't say I didn't warn you.

The next week passed in a flurry of beauty treatments, altering her wardrobe, admonishments about etiquette and manners, and lessons about the suitors she was going to meet. Mai listened to their family lineages, current fortunes, and lists of achievements but retained nothing; there was nothing about these boring, pampered dandies worth remembering.

It was almost a relief when the prep ended and the interviews started. True to their word, her parents arranged everything, leaving the task of the face-to-face meeting all to Mai.

The first boy her parents invited was the young, handsome son of a wealthy merchant who said she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever courted (an impressive feat, given the number of competitors, he assured her), but he expected nothing less from the Fire Prince's fiancée. It was so hard finding someone good enough for him, but he knew he should settle for nothing less than the best, and he'd finally found it. She just might be the lucky winner.

"I owe my mother an apology," Mai said, shaking her head.

"Why?" he asked.

"For thinking she must have been exaggerating."

The second was a thirty-year-old captain of the Fire Navy who said the prince definitely had good taste. He was sorry for her loss, but she clearly deserved better. He listed all the medals and awards he'd won and all the towns he'd burned, ships he'd sunk, and Earth Kingdom rebels he'd killed or imprisoned to get them.

"And not a scratch on you," Mai said, thinking of how Azula described the price Zuko had paid in flesh for defending his people.

The third was younger but had the smuggest smile of all so far. "Wow, you actually do look as pretty as your portrait," he said. "So, can you be ready by this summer?"

"That's it?" Mai asked in astonishment.

His smile managed to broaden. "Don't be so surprised. I'm not going to waste your time with pointless questions. The Fire Lord thinks you're good enough for his family – what more do I need to know?"

The fourth was an older man who said he always knew the prince would come to a bad end and it was a good thing she hadn't been wasted on him – he could see she was a wife fit for royalty, and he could make her richer than the prince ever could have.

The fifth was the new governor of a nearby colony who complained about how few women were fit to be a governor's wife, but he had no such fears about her, knowing she'd been good enough to be the next Fire Lady.

The sixth was a young boy who bragged about all the Agni Kais he'd won. He never lost anything. If the Fire Lord had challenged him to a duel, he wouldn't have begged for mercy like a coward. Anyone could tell her he was ten times stronger than the prince.

"Then why do you need my help to prove it?" Mai wondered aloud.

The seventh stared at her more than he talked. Near the end, he said, "The truth is, I'm not really interested in being tied down yet." She was about to apologize for their parents putting them through all this when he added, "I just wanted to meet you." Before she could ask what he meant by that, he reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, across her shoulder, and down her arm before circling her waist with his arm, whispering about how he'd like to know what the prince found so special. The last she saw of him, he was flying across the street, knocking over a cabbage cart before hitting the opposite wall. She'd forgotten to get her throwing stars back…

The eighth didn't waste any time on pretenses but got right to the point. He said he wouldn't bother her very often, as long as he had at least one son and she behaved herself in public. He could give her anything she wanted; in return, all he wanted was the Fire Prince's fiancée. She'd never find such an easy arrangement anywhere else. She'd be away from her parents, she could give up this ridiculous exercise they all knew was a farce, and he would be the envy of all his friends – seemed like a fair trade, didn't it?

"I admire your honesty," Mai told him.

"So we have a deal?"

"This isn't a business transaction."

"Yes, it is – they all are. You seemed like the type who wouldn't be afraid to admit it."

"You're right – I'm not, and they are, but they shouldn't be. Not entirely."

"With that attitude, you'll never find someone."

I did once.

The ninth hated the whole arrangement as much as she did. He ranted about how his father had run off with his commanding officer's wife, and his mother expected him, as the oldest, to make a good match to restore the family honor and thought nothing could be better than the prince's fiancée. They passed several pleasant hours abusing their parents, sympathizing with the other's struggles, and laughing at several wild, off-the-wall suggestions for escape that they knew they could never try. At the end of the night, they wished each other good luck.

The tenth was thrilled to meet his wife at last. His friends thought they were so great, that their wives were something special, but none of theirs had been slated to be the next Fire Lady. Just wait until they saw the two of them together – he couldn't wait to show them! He'd always told them he'd get the best, and now no one could argue with him.

The eleventh barely talked at all or even looked at her. He eventually apologized and, feeling he owed her an explanation, confessed that the girl he'd loved had died a year ago, and his family had expected him to be over it by now but begged her not to tell anyone or he'd never hear the end of it.

"I won't tell," she promised.

He took a quick look from side to side before leaning forward and whispering, "I'm sorry about... what happened. It... must be hard."

She believed him. "It is. I'm sorry, too."

They chatted a little longer, but it was still the shortest interview so far. As she descended from the palanquin, he said, "It was nice talking with you, Mai... If you ever... Do you think...?"

"I'm sorry." She glared at her parents as she walked up to bed, hating them more than she ever had since this nightmare began.

The twelfth was polite until they were walking home. When he set a date and time for their next meeting, she said she didn't think there would be one. He took a step towards her and repeated himself, and she told him good-bye. He blocked her path and told her to show him some respect.

"Why should I?" she asked, trying to step around him again without giving him the compliment of being intimidated enough to pull out a weapon.

He blocked her again. "You'll need to change that attitude when we're married."

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you."

He laughed. "Agni help me if I know why the prince chose you, but you're apparently the best, and I'm the only one who deserves the best."

"Don't let Princess Azula hear you say that."

"Joke all you want, but you can't get away from me. I always get what I want. You're going to be mine. I'll make sure of it."

She left him with his collar pinned to the ground.

The thirteenth was a young soldier who spent the whole night praising the Fire Lord, raving about his good fortune to serve him, how proud he was to serve him, how lucky they were to have him lead them, how outrageous it was for his son to displease him so, how they would serve him together by producing fine sons for the army.

The fourteenth looked familiar. It turned out he'd gone to the Royal Fire Academy for Boys on the other side of her school's wall, and they'd seen each other occasionally at festivals and secret student parties, usually in the knife-throwing areas they both loved to frequent. He was impressed by her wide variety of weapons, saying he couldn't imagine being able to switch instantly from the technique required for one to another. He was nice, he was fun to talk to, until he mentioned the successful campaign his father had just returned from, gushing excitedly about how he hadn't given up no matter how many men he lost.

"You're just like the others," she couldn't help saying. She lost count after that.

They were all the same. There was only one boy in the Fire Nation with a heart, only one she could trust and respect, only one who valued human life, only one who seemed capable of feeling genuine love, only one who had the courage to stand up to the Fire Lord himself. Even had she been looking for it, nobody she met ever came close to outshining Zuko.

Almost as hard to bear as these meetings were the interrogations from her parents. What had she said? What did he say? How did he like her? Was he interested in continuing? What went wrong? What did she do this time? Why wouldn't she give him another chance? When would she make her choice? Wasn't anyone good enough for her? What more did she want?

For a while, her mother was in no hurry to end it. Mai could tell she enjoyed bragging about her daughter's many suitors and, even more, about how she turned them all away in disdain. Her father didn't enjoy the suspense quite so much, and Mai spent several nights lying awake, listening to her mother explain to him that this was all part of the process, that she couldn't seem too easy or too eager, that playing so hard to get would only increase her value. "You said being engaged to the former heir made her the most desired girl in the nation – how much more valuable can she get?!" he replied in frustration.

Eventually, her mother grew frustrated, too. "Your father and I have been patient long enough, Mai. You're going too far."

"You told me not to settle for anything but the best."

"You've gotten the best there is!"

"So they think..."

"Any other girl would be thrilled to be in your position!" her mother repeated for the hundredth time. "Why must you be so difficult?"

"It must run in the family." She tried to muster up some sense of triumph that they were powerless to marry her against her will in this day and age, but all she could find was an almost unbearable weariness.

She hoped that her lackluster performance would release her from any demands to continue, but her parents continued the charade, introducing her to one potential husband after another, and she could either oblige or risk revealing the truth. She wondered why she bothered; her behavior must have made them suspect the real reason for it by now. But, no, they accused her of being stubborn, heartless, selfish, vain, coquettish, a perfectionist, spiteful, and foolish, but not a traitor. She finally learned why the night she heard her mother ask, "You don't think she could still… possibly…?" Then her voice dropped too low to hear.

The next thing Mai heard was her father bursting into laughter. "Don't be ridiculous, dear – what could she possibly see in him?"