Lu Da wove through a copse of trees, plucking a leaf off a branch as he slowed his pace at last, Lady Luck panting at his side. Dropping against the base of a tree, he groaned and leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment as the dog slumped down heavily beside him.
A hundred thoughts tossed in the stormy sea of his mind. He couldn't stop worrying about Katara. Wondering if she was okay. If she was even alive after what that ritual had done to her. Wondering where the portal had taken them. Wondering if he would ever see his friend again, snide asshole that Ozai was, or the girl Lu Da had grown so fond of. Knowing there was a good chance he never would, and that made the vestiges of his heart ache more than he cared to admit.
Pushing the tempest of angst aside, Lu Da funneled his thoughts instead toward what to do now. Where to go. It was a strange sort of limbo, entirely foreign and unwelcome, this being adrift without direction, having no immediate goal or purpose. Lu Da had expected that void to be filled for a while yet helping Ozai. He hadn't expected to be absolved of that charge so soon, nor had he wanted to be, in spite of the total clusterfuck this thing had been.
And now, he found himself faced with a decision.
If he idled in one place too long or continued his wanderings aimlessly, he could be recognized and arrested. It certainly wouldn't be difficult to pick him out of a crowd. Lu Da's mother had warned him he might live to regret the tattoos someday. He breathed a wry laugh. What do you know, maybe she had known a thing or two, though he doubted this was exactly what she'd meant.
Well, the old bitch was a feast for maggots now and he had no other family to take him in. His sister had disowned him ages ago, and everyone else had long been estranged. He had no home, no partner to return to, and very few real friends to call on, save for one, and that one had been swallowed up by a portal.
There was, however, one place he was sure to be welcomed. He could still hear his old comrade's thinly-veiled threat, see Bao's razor-sharp smile as the words hung in the air.
"Do see that you come back. If you fail to return, I will find you."
There wasn't a choice really. Not anymore. He had nowhere else to go, but more than that, he had made a silent vow to Rinna that he would come back, tear the throat out of the scumbags that used her and others like an object. Cauterize the rot spreading like cancer through the region, rip Bao the Bloody's entire shitshow to shreds. And Lu Da intended to make good on that promise.
"Imagine… All we could accomplish if we worked together. I could make you my right hand. It'd be like old times, the two of us. Ah, weren't those the days?"
All they could accomplish indeed, thought Lu Da with a dark smile. Wouldn't the Bloodhound be surprised when he discovered, too late, that his right hand had been eviscerating the framework of his establishment, gutting it from the inside out, right under his nose?
Lady Luck nudged her snout up under his forearm, resting her head on his lap.
Right. What about her? The poor girl had obviously been through her share of trauma. There was no telling what Lu Da might be taking her into. These were some of the worst human specimens ever let loose on society. None of this would end without claws and fangs, without violence and bloodshed. And if anything happened to him, what would they do to her?
As though she could feel the weight of his thoughts, his conflicted resolve, Lady whined and looked up at him with begging eyes. Lu Da laughed once.
"Right. Sorry I even considered it. Where I go, you go, step for step."
She lifted her head, a flat pink tongue flopping out the side of her mouth contentedly. Rising to his feet, Lu Da looked down at his dog. He slung the crossbow and satchel over his shoulder and scruffed her head.
"Ready, girl?" Lady barked and leapt up happily. "Let's go plug some assholes."
Katara thought it must have been close to noon when they finally passed through the majestic gates of the city. Magnificent in its architecture, they seemed to scrape the sky, the stone ornamented with carvings of impeccable detail. The city was built into a soaring hillside, the polished streets climbing ever higher, colorful, lined with charming houses and establishments, window boxes brimming with flowers. High above, overlooking the city, Katara could see a palace, gleaming alabaster in the sun, its rounded turrets crowned with brilliant cobalt spires. The whole place was breathtaking.
Maunesse it was called, gathering from the bulletin board they'd passed at the gate. A grand banner strung across two large poles read, Merry Lunamass, and in the center of the town square towered the statue of a woman wearing nothing but a crown of leaves, flanked by a pair of winged lions. She appeared in mid stride, holding a torch in one outstretched hand, the beasts at her side so lifelike they might have sprung from their perch at any moment.
The streets were noisy and brimming with people of a manner Katara had never seen. Peachy complexions, hair of every imaginable color and such large eyes, many others of darker skin and hair. At intervals, large and exotic animals were tied to posts, heaping saddlebags slung over their backs. She noted some with the head and wings of an eagle, the body of a wolf, others the body of a large horse with a lion's mane and curved horns. There was a giant wooly elephant. Oversized fox-like creatures with two long canine teeth. A king-sized lizard with stocky legs and a forked tongue flicking out its wide snout.
Katara grinned and breathed in deep. The air was pleasant and smelled exhilarating, sweet with flowers and fried dough and herbs. Her body felt electric.
"Lunamass. It must be some kind of festival. This looks fun, I wonder what they're celebrating."
Ozai only grunted in response.
Spirited music filled the air, the heartbeat of the city, so exotic and new to her ears, like nothing she'd ever heard. Katara's mind was buzzing, every troublesome thought and worry banished like smoke. There was simply no room for it with all the life and excitement around. It was like a vacation from all the angst and concern of the last several weeks, fantastical creatures lining the streets, people passing with their beaming smiles and beautiful feathers.
Men on tall stilts marched down the middle of the crowd, blowing bubbles or waving as they went, swaying long limbs in time to the beat. Katara laughed and waved back with unbridled amusement. The costumes were as colorful as a summer garden, bold yellows, magenta, turquoise, and emerald green, sequins sparkling in the noonday sun. Painted faces, feathers and masks of every color and variety as far as Katara could see. Food sellers weaved through the mass of onlookers, the aroma of their wares perfuming the air.
Up ahead, a large swarm of people were migrating in one direction.
"I wonder where all those people are going," Katara said, pointing. Ozai didn't respond right away. Turning, she saw his mouth pinch.
"We're not here for revelry. I think it's best we move on. A quieter town would be more–"
"Oh, look, they're all heading for that big building over there."
It was a sprawling, gleaming building, several stories high and at least twice as long, held up by ostentatiously detailed pillars.
"And we are not. Time to go."
"Just a quick peek, please."
But Katara didn't wait for the objection she knew was coming. She started toward it, her spirits so charged up that walking was hardly an option. Ozai protested and stalked after her.
It was even more spectacular up close. A gaping set of double doors hung open, ornamented with gold and silver. Guards nodded greeting as people passed through. Katara noted the polished flagstone floor, a soft blue hue that spoke to the lavishness of this place, as she followed the herds through another set of smaller double doors into a large amphitheater. In the vestibules stood marble sculptures of men and women, chubby little babies with wings, most of them completely naked. Similar scenes were painted on the vaulted domed ceilings high above.
The sconces that flickered along the walls started to dim, some kind of magic, the room descending into a hush. Before Ozai could fight the current of people and drag her back out the exit, they were ushered into a row of seats by a pair of doormen. Katara took a seat and Ozai sat heavily down beside her.
"You can't just blindly follow a herd of strange people in a place you know nothing about," he hissed, scolding her. "They could have been leading you off the edge of a cliff, and like a lemming you would have–"
"Shhh!"
Ozai was sternly silenced by a doorman. Outraged, he turned a glare on the man and Katara could feel that glare brush her too from the corner of her eye. The doorman scowled back, not the least bit intimidated, and grumbling Ozai settled back in his seat.
As music began and the curtain on stage drew open, one woman leaned into another in the row before them, whispering.
"I can't believe they snagged Soléne Bellante to play Yrsine this year."
"I know. I love anything with her in it."
Mournful choral music droned dolefully as two large glowing orb floats appeared from offstage, suspended by thin wires. One orb was white, the other smaller and blue. From the narrator Katara gathered that they were two moons, regarded as deities in the heavens. Taaros and Tula they were called.
Katara watched the play as the storyteller narrated. Tula was barren and could bear her husband no children. In her grief, she wept and her tears fell down to the earth. After winter's final frost, from the ground where the goddess's tears had fallen grew a baby girl. Naked, starving, and alone, she was found by a pride of winged lions and they gave her the name Yrsine, "child of earth" in the elder tongue. They raised the baby to adulthood and Taaros looked down from the heavens and took favor on the girl. He laid with Yrsine and she soon found herself with child.
A young woman stepped onto the stage, wearing a simple spring-green dress and a crown of leaves, her golden hair woven into a long braid over her shoulder. With an earnest expression, her hands first stretched toward the heavens then came to rest down upon her swollen belly as her penetrating, operatic voice pealed through the theater.
Katara's eyebrows pinched together, her eyes widening in a grimace. She looked around but no one else, save for Ozai, seemed to be the slightest bit put off by the shrill, sharply wandering vibrato. On and on she sang for what felt like an absolutely garish amount of time, until Katara started to fear the walls might crack and cave in from the pitch. And then – bless it – the woman finally sang herself off stage, reemerging a moment later with a flat stomach and three children at her heels.
"And thus, the human race was created," the narrator said, "spreading out from the resplendent land of Arclais to become different races. Praise be to Tula for her earnestness and tears. Praise be to Taaros for his compassion and love."
The curtain began to close, the storyteller ascending a set of stairs and walking onto the stage.
"And praise be to Yrsine. Our Blessed Lady of Earth. Mother of all life. May she be with you and guide you in this season of Lunamass and always."
The storyteller bowed his head, Soléne Bellante and the children slipping through the curtain to bow beside him, and a roar of applause swept through the theater. Another man began ascending the stairs, this one taller and broader than the other, wearing a robe of mauve velvet and an impressive crown. He extended his arms wide with a grin.
"Merry Lunamass, gentlefriends!" he cried, many spectators shouting it back at him as he strode onto the stage. He waited for the applause to die down before continuing. "As we do every third year, when both Tula and Taaros align as full moons, glowing at equal points in the sky, we gather in thanksgiving and remembrance. It is my honor as Duke of Arclais to welcome you once again."
"Long live Duke Thibault!" someone shouted.
The imperial man nodded with an attractive smile. "Yrsine bless and keep us all. And now with no further ado, let the celebrations begin!"
Ozai turned to her through another wave of applause, his expression sour. "That was mind-numbingly awful."
Katara smirked, adjusting the brooch in her hair with a shrug.
"I thought the shining moon floats were a nice touch."
"That was thirty minutes of our existence we will never have again, do you realize that?"
Music kicked up from the halls outside of the theater, lively and spirited, and the din of approval filled the air as the crowd shoved out the doors and into the wide airy building beyond. Katara rose and followed, Ozai close behind. People started bursting into dance, others beelining for the seemingly endless spread of food and drink.
Katara looked around. It was truly a magnificent place. The halls were marble, frescoed, tall windows thrown open to let in the breeze. Yawning arches led from area to area, and the transition from inside to out was made nearly seamless by doors of crystal-clear glass.
Plates were laden with food, goblets overflowing, wealth dripping off the walls.
"We're not going to glean much in this ruckus. Let's move on."
"And miss out on all this excitement? No way."
"We are not here for excitement," he said with stern resolve, turning to her. "Need I remind you?"
"The food then. Did you see the feast these people dished up?"
Ozai's mouth pressed into a thin line, but Katara knew she'd hooked him. It was hard to say no to free food when their next good meal might be days away.
"All right. We'll eat, but then we're leaving."
They walked through the halls, weaving through the throngs of bodies. Katara noted bundles of small yellow flowers hanging in random places. Odd, she thought. They were pretty enough, but hardly the ornamental variety considering the opulence of this place.
"Ahh!"
Katara turned as a voice cried out to see a man grasping at his upper thigh, a particularly rowdy group of characters surrounding him.
"You bitch," he hollered, gaping as he looked at the others. "She just stabbed me!"
An olive-skinned woman suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes at another – a red head with a puckish smirk, holding a jackknife.
"Honestly, Cyrilla, did you have to stab, Arnaud?"
She shrugged. "Not my fault, he provoked me."
"How's that?" asked a darker man, crossing his arms.
"He said, what are you gonna do, stab me?"
The lot of them burst into raucous laughter, bent over and snorting.
"I'm with Cyrilla, that was practically an invitation."
"I see nothing funny about this, you beslubbering whoremongers," barked the wounded man. "It bloody hurts."
The red head scoffed. "It was a joke stab, Arnaud. Sheesh, where's your sense of humor?"
"Uhh, bleeding out?!"
Katara stifled a laugh as they wound their way further, finally reaching a banquet table chockfull of delicious smelling cuisine, her mouth watering. Each dish was labeled in fine script.
Stuffed quail hearts.
Roasted honeyfish.
Kingclaw braised in goldwine.
Stewed onions.
Spinach souffle.
Duck and eggplant confit.
"Try the grey stuff, it's delicious," a man said through a mouthful of food as he sauntered away.
They filled their plates with an almost unbelievable assortment, finding an empty bench against a far wall and finally sitting down to eat. With a strange pronged utensil, shiny and metal, she scooped up a bite, trying the grey stuff first. It really was delicious.
Katara marveled at the magnificence all around. Separate fountains of red and pale-gold liquid flowed generously from upon pedestals, revelers holding goblets underneath, filling them to the brim and gulping blithely.
A man carrying a gleaming tray of goblets stopped before them. "Might I offer the lady or gentleman a chalice of Arclais's Beaujolais? Or perhaps our famous Frascati."
Katara blinked, arched a brow. "Sorry, some what?"
The man blinked back at her, clearly stupefied by the question. "It's… wine, miss."
"Umm. Sure, okay." Katara accepted a goblet of deep red, Ozai one of pale gold, and she nodded. "Thank you."
But instead of walking off, the man lingered awkwardly, scrutinizing them with his large nut-brown eyes.
"Yes?" Ozai asked sharply.
"Forgive me, it's just… I don't mean to be rude, but your features are quite unique. I'm having trouble placing your heritage. You've no distinguishable Arclesian traits I can see. No resemblance to the olive-skinned Barrosi south of us, not the flaxen-haired brutes of Myrr up north. Where are you from?"
"Far away," Ozai retorted with finality.
The man tensed, offering a weak smile. "My curiosity's gotten the better of my good manners. Forgive me for intruding. It matters little where you hail from, as you will find Arclais a tolerant and welcoming land of any and all, so long as you come peacefully. You are most welcome here. Merry Lunamass."
They watched him go. Ozai sniffed at his drink. Katara took a sip of hers.
"This is alcohol," he said.
"So?"
"So, don't drink too much. I need you able to walk out of here later."
She took another sip, watching the heart of the crowds form a circle in the center of the room. An upbeat refrain filled the halls. Strings, pipes, percussion, and other instruments of a variety she had never seen. And the throngs burst into dance.
Faces beamed, rosy with the wine they'd drank, as the entire circle moved in harmony, clapping at intervals, folding in on itself and bursting out again like a blossom in bloom. It seemed they all knew the steps, swiveling, spiraling in perfect sync. Katara marveled at the way the ladies' wide skirts flowed out from their bodies as they turned, like the petals of flowers.
It looked like fun. She was half tempted to jump in and make a fool of herself. With a little more wine in her, she might just have the confidence to do it.
Katara smiled and stood up, setting her now empty plate on the bench.
"What are you doing?" Ozai asked.
"I want to look around. This place is amazing."
Ozai rose to stand beside her, eyeing her with growing discontent.
"No, we agreed we would eat, and then go."
"Actually, you said that." Katara turned to him with a saucy smirk. "I didn't agree to anything."
The realization flashed across Ozai's face, hardening into a glower.
"Katara–"
"You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit curious. Anyway, we can't go yet. The dancing's just begun."
His jaw clenched. "We are not going to–"
A voluptuous woman fluttered up beside Ozai and he tensed, her hands perching on his arm, shamelessly devouring him with her emerald eyes.
"Hello, handsome," she purred. The woman flashed a coy smile, playing bashful and blinking thick, long lashes. "Pardon my boldness, but… might I have the next dance?"
Her dress was beaded amber, cinching her shapely waist so tight Katara wasn't sure how she was still breathing, her breasts practically spilling from her snug bodice with every inhale. Ozai's eyes flicked down fleetingly and back up, but when he didn't respond, her bottom lip plumped into a playful pout.
"Don't tell me your dance card is full already."
"I don't dance," he replied brusquely.
But the woman smiled, undeterred. She flipped her perfect auburn ringlets to one side, accentuating the length of her neck, her bare shoulder, her ample cleavage. Ozai set his jaw, visibly struggling to keep his eyes from wandering. A fire seethed in the pit of Katara's stomach, the intensity of it catching her off guard.
Running a hand up his bicep, the woman stood on tiptoes, leaning into Ozai and bringing her full red lips to his ear.
"I can think of a few other things we could do if dancing's not your forte."
Katara's mouth fell open, her hands curling tight as his eyes widened, cutting toward her briefly. Then, an almost impossible thing happened. Ozai blushed, just the barest note of color leaching onto his face.
Standing flat on the ground again, the woman waited, her twinkling green eyes darting over him at his hesitance and her smile began to tarnish. "Unless, of course… you are otherwise occupied."
Her mouth pinched, gaze skimming dryly over Katara once and back. She raised an eyebrow suggestively and Ozai tensed.
"No…" he began, and though it was obviously true, something inside her wilted. "But–"
"Not at all," Katara interjected, too chipperly, an ache bruising the bright veneer of her tone, like mud beneath snow. For an instant, part of her dreaded Ozai might have heard it. Another part almost hoped he had. "I was just leaving."
Ozai shot her a wide-eyed scowl as the woman leaned her breasts against his bicep. Full red lips turned up in a victorious smirk and, swallowing her jealousy, Katara flashed a tight smile and turned to go. What right did she have to be jealous, anyway? Stupid. There wasn't anything between them. There never would be.
She could hear the note of friction in Ozai's voice as he called after her. "Where are you going?"
Twice her age. Evil war criminal. Coldblooded tyrant. Zuko's father…
She went down the list exhaustively as she stalked away.
"Katara," he commanded.
But she ignored him, slipping away through the masses of people. She needed to clear her head.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
The dessert table did not disappoint, as she had hoped and expected. What better way to drown her angst than with a plentiful selection of sweets? She had tried a little bit of everything. Pear and lavender tarte. Chocolate almond croquette. Cardamom gooseberry custard. Baked apples with caramel sauce. Honeyed mascarpone with blueberry compote. She had liked everything except for the pistachio cake and the poached cherry meringue.
Downing the last of her red wine, she set her goblet on the table and wandered slowly, eating the remains of a cream puff. Ozai hadn't come after her. Not that she had necessarily expected or even wanted him to. She had needed to get away and hadn't done it for show. But in spite of all that, some deeper part of herself had still hoped he might.
A server stopped before her with a tray, offering another drink. She took one without care, a goblet of white wine this time.
Katara's palms still bore faint halfmoons from where her fingernails had bit into them. The jealousy still churned. Had he taken that woman up on her offer? It doesn't matter, she quickly reminded herself. Some things were best left to mystery and she'd just as soon not find out. Anyway, Ozai was a grown man, he owed her nothing. These fantasies were foolish and absurd at best, dangerous at worst, and she was shutting it down now.
"Make way. Please, step back," a booming voice announced. "Make way for the vicomte Gaspard Delacroix of Maunesse,"
The sea of bodies began to part and Katara watched from the edge of it as a handsome man made his way through, tailed by a bulkier man with a stern but weary expression. Women swooned, reaching out to touch him as he passed, some luckier ones earning a wink, his dazzling smile glinting. For an instant, his eyes met Katara's and snagged there. Time froze. His gaze lingered and she felt herself blush under the radiance of it.
"Step back," the bodyguard barked again. "Hands off. Please do not touch the vicomte–"
The handsome man broke away from his escort, weaving through the eager crowd, leaving pouts in his wake as he came to stand before her with a debonair smile.
"I fear heaven may be missing one of its angels," he crooned, sidling up to her. "For truly, you must have fallen straight from the heavens. What, dear beauty, may I call you?"
"Ummm," she stuttered, words utterly vanishing. Her blushing gaze flitted to the floor briefly. "Katara."
"Katara. What a lovely name."
The thick wall of a man appeared behind him, clearing his throat loudly. Barring a quick sideward glance, the handsome man didn't take his eyes off her as he responded. "Why don't you go join in on the revelries, Marcello? Let loose a bit. Yrsine knows you need it."
The bodyguard shifted uncomfortably. "Forgive me, vicomte, but your father's given me strict orders to–"
"Oh, Marcello," he chuckled brightly, "it's like you don't know me at all. When have I ever listened to that stuffy old gaffer? No sense in starting now." His attendant lingered, shifting nervously on his feet and the handsome man rolled his eyes impatiently. "I'll deal with the old man if it comes to that. Now begone. Shoo."
Conflicted but undeniably dismissed, the larger man clasped his hands behind his back and gave a tight bow of his head.
"Your wish, my will," he muttered, slinking away.
Katara cleared her throat, staring down at her goblet of wine as they were left alone. She could feel the man's beautiful sun-warm gaze wandering over her and she felt her blush deepen, bringing her eyes to his coyly. She had never seen such eyes. Golden around his pupils, the rest a bright shade of green. A striking contrast to his dark hair.
"So, vicomte–?"
"Please. Call me Gaspard."
She smiled. "Gaspard. It's… nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, his eyes boring into hers. Her heart skipped in her chest. Gaspard let her hand slide from his with a suave smile.
"So, you're not from around here." It didn't seem to be a question.
"How can you tell?"
"There are few eligible maidens in this region I'd fail to recognize. And I am most certain that I would remember you," he simpered, and Katara felt herself blush again. "What brings you to Arclais? Or Maunesse, specifically?"
"Oh, uh…" She hadn't had the forethought or the time to even consider how she might answer that question, but something told her that "searching for the Sunstone" was probably something she should keep to herself for now. "Just passing through, got caught up in all the festivities."
"Well then, you're in for a treat. Welcome to the most decadent, hedonistic gala in all of Arclais," he grinned, sweeping his hand out at the wild merrymaking.
The air suddenly felt empty as the mellow waltz that had been playing died out. Seconds later, a spritely jig took its place, striking up in a mix of flute, strings, and tambourine.
"Branle des Chevaux." Gaspard's face brightened. He turned to her, taking her hand and leading her toward the dance floor. "This is a fun one. Come on, dance with me."
"Oh, no, I can't…" She slid her hand out of his, pulling back. "I don't know the steps."
Plucking the half-finished goblet from her hand, he placed it onto a passing tray, his eyes creased in an irresistible smile as he turned back to her. Gaspard slid one hand over the small of her back and placed one of hers on his shoulder, pulling her close. Her stomach rolled pleasurably.
"Just follow my lead."
Katara smiled in return and relaxed into him as the music started, light and airy at first, the cheerful refrain picking up pace as it went. Gaspard spun her out, twirling her back into his arms, dipping her low, his face coming close. A tingle trilled up her neck.
"You're a natural," he crooned.
He straightened and spun her out again, but this time, couples changed partners. Katara laughed and embraced the music, and in turn the music took control. She felt free, moving with delicate grace as each partner guided her through the steps, clapping when they clapped, turning when they turned, her soul becoming one with the music. To dance was badly needed freedom, to become a bird aloft. It was nourishment for her tired and weary soul. She had needed this as badly as she needed to breathe.
As she turned again, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure leaning darkly against a wall, his arms crossed in a frown. Her heart jumped into her throat and she struggled to regain her step. Quickly reining in her focus, Katara told herself she didn't care. Or at least she tried to. But no matter how hard, she couldn't shake it off.
Ozai had a way of taking up space, his presence a tangible weight whenever he was near. She could feel the warm pressure of his gaze but she kept her attention occupied.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Ozai's mouth pinched as he watched Katara turn, blue eyes shining in the flickering light of the chandeliers above. She had seen him too, her steps faltering momentarily. Part of him was cursing himself for just standing there when he should have stalked over and dragged her out of this place. Another part of himself was almost too captivated watching her to do so.
He couldn't place the feeling in his chest. There was something about this girl that demanded his attention in a way he couldn't describe. It was an odd thing for him.
She melted into the circle of dancers again and he sighed, his eyes wandering the vast room.
Guards stood at the doors, dressed in rich red cloaks and gilded armor, two moons embossed upon their breastplates. They looked upon the scene with the kinds of dour expressions one would expect to be wearing after drawing guard duty during such a wild, lascivious bender.
"Merry Lunamass, gentlefriend," came a voice.
Ozai looked over to see a man, tall and broad-shouldered, lean back against the wall beside him. His hair was the flaxen color of winter wheat, hanging loose past his shoulders, a shadow of blond stubble across his jaw. There was a foreignness to him that, even unfamiliar with this place, Ozai could pick out.
Tipping his goblet in greeting, he turned to gaze out at the synchronized throngs of bodies. "Blessed be Yrsine, lady of earth, mother all life, yada yada…" he trailed off, taking several long gulps of his drink, finishing with a noisy aahh. "I'm just here for the wine."
Ozai turned back and stared straight ahead, blinking long, his lips stiffening into a sour line. From the corner of his eye, he could see the man studying him.
"You come off a bit… erm… unapproachable, sir."
"Yet here you are," Ozai said with a tart grimace, making a point of not looking at him. Unsurprisingly, the man ignored the hint.
"I gather you've not come to sing Yrsine's praises either. At last, it appears I'm in good company. What is your persuasion on matters of faith, if I might ask?"
Ozai didn't answer and the man continued to wait, maddeningly patient. When it became clear he was not going to give up, Ozai sighed. Perhaps if he obliged him with an answer, he might leave him in peace.
"Faith is a copout," he grumbled at last. "An escape. I've never understood why men insist on blaming the supernatural instead of taking responsibility for their own bullshit."
"Ha! One of life's greatest mysteries, to be sure."
Ozai spared the man a glance. His pale blue eyes creased in amusement.
"Brondolf Thorald," he said, extending an open hand. The gesture was unfamiliar, but it became clear as he held it out that he was expected to return it. He didn't.
"Ozai," he responded tersely, looking away. Brondolf simply shrugged and drew his hand back, unaffected.
"You know, Lunamass was originally meant to be a turn of reflection and chaste contemplation. A four-day-long commemoration of Arclais's Blessed Lady of Earth. Four days of this nonsense. Can you believe it?" The yellow-haired man huffed a laugh, shook his head. He swept his goblet toward the crowd, red sloshing over the rim. "Nowadays, it's just an excuse for people to drink copious amounts of wine and hold a raucous piss-up, indulging in precisely the kind of behavior Yrsine would frown upon."
A corner of Ozai's mouth tipped up at that, his gaze meeting the man's wry smirk.
"Oh well. As they say, when in Arclais…" Brondolf tipped his goblet again with a wily lift of his eyebrows, taking several long gulps as he wandered away.
Ozai's eyes turned back to the crowd. He spotted Katara again, her movements lithe and graceful. The joy on her face bright enough to light the room, her laugh warm as the sun. He felt a softness creep over his brow despite his growing displeasure and he sighed, shook his head.
Katara spun into the arms of that one man again, the licentious one that bristled the hairs on his neck, a walking red flag. Flagrantly undressing her with his eyes, pressing his body against hers every time they met. His sly hands were wandering dangerously low on her hips, the small of her back.
Ozai straightened, his eyes narrowing. As the song ended, the man held her close, lips brushing her ear as he whispered something with a provocative smile. A blush bloomed on her face and he started luring her toward an exit.
Needless to say, the spectacle tripped Ozai's sleazy shit alarm. A shot of white-hot adrenaline pumped through his veins, pulsing in his fists. He shoved through the crowd, pushing a bumbling drunk out of his way, just before they reached a set of large glass doors leading out to a walkway.
"Katara."
At his sharp voice, Katara blinked, turning, and the young man stopped, meeting him with a sour half-smile.
"Is this a… friend of yours?" he asked, vulpine lips curling tartly at the interruption.
"He's, uh…"
"Here to tell you to take your whorehounding paws somewhere else."
"Ozai!" Katara gasped.
Lecher boy blinked, his gaping mouth working. "Ugh! You dare speak to the vicomte of Maunesse in such a–?"
"Oh yes, I dare," Ozai growled. "But I'm warning you, I only ask nicely once."
The young man huffed, taken aback by the undaunted insolence, grumbling a series of derisive words, unfamiliar to Ozai's ears but no less offensive.
"Sodden-witted whoreson, not worth my breath," he sneered at last. He turned to back to Katara. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips suggestively and placed a long, slow kiss atop one knuckle, his eyes never leaving hers. Ozai's nostrils flared. "I do hope our paths will cross later tonight." He winked at her, and shot a final scathing look at Ozai before sauntering off.
Katara watched him go and then turned sharply on Ozai. "What is wrong with you? Why were you such a jerk to him?"
"I think we've stayed long enough. This is a waste of time."
Grasping her arm, Ozai steered her toward the exit but she wrenched out from his hold, stopping short. Ozai paused a step after her, turning to find a dark scowl on her face.
"A waste of time for a cold, ill-tempered killjoy like you, maybe," she snorted, arms-crossed. "I'm having fun. Not that it's any of your business, but Gaspard was only going to take me to an overlook to watch the sunset. He's charming and a gentleman. Neither of which you would know the first thing about."
Ozai tipped his head and stepped before her with gritted teeth, exhaling through his nose. If she insisted on being belligerent, perhaps he should just let her find out exactly what kind of gentleman she was allowing to cozy up to her. That would take her down a few notches. If he cared – which he didn't – he would inform her exactly what that sleaze was after.
"That man is a rat, up to nothing good," he heard himself say.
"How would you know? You don't even know him."
"And you do?"
Katara scoffed, looked away, fumbling for a retort. "It's called flirting, you wouldn't understand. It's harmless, I don't see–"
"Flirting?" he challenged with a sharp arch of his brow. There was flirting, and then there was letting a salacious dog's hands wander slyly over her… "How much wine have you have already?"
More than a few sips, that much was clear. She stammered, floundering. "Ugh. That's rude. And also, none of your–"
"Katara. I'm not sure how to make this any clearer. That snake believes he's the gods' gift to women and set on getting one thing tonight. I doubt I have to tell you what that one thing is. He's got his blinders on and narrowed in on you, and arrogant, entitled prick that he is, he won't stop until he gets it."
Her mouth opened in stunned offense, her blue eyes hardening, cold as ice. "Oh… I see. Because there's no other reason you can fathom that someone might show interest in me, is that it?"
He blinked his eyes wide in a scowl. "Don't deflect–"
"Katara the lowly peasant. That's all she's worth."
"That is not what I'm saying," he rumbled, stepping closer with balled fists. Katara's chest rose, her eyes darting over his face. A memory of the night before rushed back – the figs, the alley, quickening breaths, the look on her face as they'd loomed inches apart. His chest pinched and Ozai took a step back. He shook his head. "Fine. If you want to take your chances on him, by all means, go right ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you."
She held his gaze long and hard, challenging.
"Why do you care?"
Ozai squared his jaw on a breath, a long beat of silence dragging out between them. Katara waited for an answer, her glacier-blue gaze unwavering. With a resentful exhale, he willed his eyes to the floor, a bitter crease etched between his brows. He caught the almost imperceptible wilting of her shoulders as she scoffed softly.
"The Sunstone isn't going anywhere. We don't even have the first clue where to begin, so I'd say all of that can wait for one day. You owe me at least that, after what I went through to open that portal, which – by the way – definitely falls into the creepy voodoo category," she fumed, leaning angrily toward him. "Still think I'm being dramatic?"
With a frown, Ozai brought his dour gaze to hers again. There was nothing he could say, he knew. She had been right.
Katara took a step away. "Go brood in a corner if that's what you wanna do, Ozai. But I intend to enjoy myself tonight and have some much-needed fun for a change. Maybe you should do the same."
Ozai could only shake his head grudgingly as Katara turned and stalked away into the carousing mob.