Forget Me Not, by Juliann Whicker

with his answer. She focused on
the conversation on the dais, trying to block out the
Elsyrian.
    The Barbarian spoke in
smooth High Elsyrian with barely a trace of accent. “High City is
as beautiful as it was fabled to be, which I hadn’t thought
possible. I haven’t had the chance to foray much, but as far as I
can tell, there isn’t more beautiful architecture populated by a
lovelier people.” He kept a smile on his mouth as he spoke. Lady
Perr had expected more grunting.
    “ I admit that it has a
certain grandeur, which is to be expected when the rich heritage of
our people spans millennia, but of course, it lacks charm of
simplicity, as well as the wonder of modern architectural feats.
From what I hear the Emperor has changed the face of his city
dramatically.”
    The Viceroy shrugged. “I
haven’t been to the Emperor’s city for years. From what I hear the
improvements have made it one of the most hygienic cities known to
man.”
    “ Very good. How do you
like the wine?”
    The conversation went on,
High Precept asking questions the Viceroy answered as perfectly and
diplomatically as anyone could, while the rest of those on the dais
grew bored. Eventually they left to dance, leaving Lady Perr
standing with the gardener, feeling like everyone had forgotten
them both. It was strange that she hadn’t forgotten herself as
well. She watched the Viceroy through the haze of gauze and felt
irritated at the fabric for clouding her vision.
    As she watched his face,
he revealed nothing besides a politely bored expression that
bothered Lady Perr. Surely if she could see better, she could catch
twitches of emotion as they crossed his face.
    “ I find the relish from
the south sea preferable to incubated duck eggs of Salaam,” on
second thought, there might be a reason he sounded bored.
Apparently sheer magnificence and otherworldly beauty wasn’t
interesting to the Viceroy.
    At that moment some people
brought out trays and torches. Good. Fire dancing would entertain
even an old jaded man like the Viceroy. Dolores, a distant cousin
of Lady Perr had abandoned her mint confection of a dress to take
part with a small thread of pink fire that she made grow into a
shimmering rose, flames chasing around the edges of the petals. She
spun, throwing her flower into the air, twisting into a flip as the
flower exploded in a bright pink puff. When the gardener took a
turn brandishing flames, Lady Perr stepped a little closer to the
dais. He and Delores began juggling flaming balls to each other
that came quite close to the Viceroy and the High
Precept.
    The Viceroy remained
impassive. Though he smiled and nodded at appropriate places, he
appeared less than impressed. Perhaps the hardened warrior in him
made him immune to explosions. He would have seen all kinds of
fire; the Emperor loved explosives. 
    Lady Perr watched him
watch the fire dancers, feeling like an observer, not a part of
either insider or outsider, not a part of anything at all as she
remembered the fireworks that filled the night celebrating the
Anniversary of the Unseen Emperor’s glorious ascension to
power.
    ___
    Visits with Balthaar had
become successively more enjoyable. Her days were filled speaking
with tradesmen and statesmen who wished to enhance their relations
with the fabled yet aloof Elsyrian Empire. After a long day she
would find him waiting to show her a hidden gem in the city, a
building, a fountain, or a walled garden where they could debate
various points of cultural differences.
    That night, the first time
she’d seen the Emperor’s fireworks, they’d stood on the balcony of
the emperor’s palace, her rooms overlooking bonfires that filled
the courtyard along with the commoners who laughed and sang while
the sky exploded.
    Her heart pounded as he
brought her a goblet of the rich pomegranate wine, their fingers
brushing as she’d taken it from him. The electricity that passed
through her filled her senses more than the sound that shook