The Painted Spirit
Part VI
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"I'm Katara."
Those words still cling to his memory, like freezing rain to his skin during a storm. He had been helped by a sworn enemy, one of the Avatar's friends. Now he must face the shame of needing help in the first place.
He might prefer if she had been a real spirit after all.
Real spirits would not mess with the ways of the heart.
Mai's grip on his shoulder tightens. They are outside, just after sunset, not too long ago having a candlelit dinner. Now they sit side by side atop a hill, gazing at the scenery together. The whole time he avoids her gaze, just smiling and nodding in response to anything she says. She takes notice, but doesn't make a scene out of it. Her prince will forever be an enigma.
"Would it make me any less of a man to admit that I failed?"
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't do it alone."
She purses her lips and thinks on it for a moment. Obviously he is referring to how his uncle escaped. She knew all along it had been his doing. For a long time he'd talk about nothing else other than his uncle's condition. Now he's admitting he needed help too; this was new for him.
"Don't tell me it's the spirit girl again." She frowns.
"What's wrong with that?"
"She's not real."
"How would you know?"
Silence. She finds it hard to form a proper response to this. How would she know? She's never met a spirit in her life.
"You know nothing then."
He stands up suddenly and looks like he is about to storm off. However, she catches him by the back of his pants' leg and she smirks up at him.
"Don't tell me you've fallen for her." There is hint of amusement in her tone. Amusement to cover up the lingering feeling of jealousy that's plagued her emotions ever since he brought up his adventures with the Painted Lady.
"What if I have?"
"You have me."
"You may not be good enough."
That stung. She lost herself for a moment, recoiling as if he had slapped her across the face. Her eyes were wider with shock.
With that he really did storm off.
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To be continued…