Rolando Vera stepped into the room and his heart skipped a beat. There she was, standing behind the serving counter arranging flowers. She was dressed in what he had come to appreciate as her uniform—black straight skirt and a linen blouse. His hands became sweaty as he approached her. When she looked up and smiled a dazzling smile up at him, his heart skipped another beat. He breathed in through his nose and then out through his mouth. His heart returned to normal, and the shaking of his knees stopped as he reached the bench. He placed a hand on the bench and she placed a soft cool hand over his. His heart was fit to burst. He wondered what it would be like to wake up beside this angel every day. A stirring in his loins made him push down the longing and he banished the thoughts from his mind, to be considered another time, when she was not present.

“What can I do for you today?” she asked, her voice as sweet as birds in the morning.

“I came to see if you have reconsidered my proposal,” he said.

She smiled and he blushed and looked down at her hand resting ever so gently like a soft kitten sleeping on his hand. He did not want to move because she might move her hand and this sensation was for him.

“My dear, I care about you greatly, but I don’t want to settle down and make babies,” she said. His hopes were dashed upon the rocks. “However, my mother is also insisting I meet people so that I can find a husband to settle down with and make babies.”

Despair, hope, and anger warred inside him. So other men were soon to be sniffing around his beautiful angel. “Then accept my proposal and I will protect you,” he said gallantly, hand to his breast.

She giggled. “You? Protect me from my mother? She has picked out this huge list of people that she wants me to choose from.”

“Am I on that list?” he asked, his heart in his mouth.

“No,” she said sadly.

“Maybe you can, add me to the list and we can plot how to get your mother off your back,” Rolando whispered.

“You would do that?” she asked, her green eyes glistened with moisture. “I don’t want our friendship to be over.”

“I will do everything in my power to prevent us from being separated,” he declared. He would do anything at all, even if it meant removing the possibility to them being married. A tear trickled down her face.

“Can you get me on the list?” he asked. He reached out and wiped her tear. The touch sent goosebumps down his arm. Her cheek was soft and wet from the tear. She nodded and reached under the table to pull out an envelope that she handed it to him. On the front of the envelope was his name in gold ink. He flipped it over and a red wax seal held the letter closed. The seal was of a single rose, the seal of the house of the Rosethorns. His brows creased and he broke the seal. If she had this prepared, then his promise … was it in vain? Inside the envelope was a single piece of stiff cardboard with gold trim. He pulled it out and read it.

Rolando Vera is cordially invited to dinner

6 hours after noon, 4th day of the 3rd month

Please be present at the Rosethorn Manor.

He returned the invitation into the envelope and held it against his chest. “A fine first gift from my sweetheart,” he said. Jeemo blushed, causing his breath to catch in his chest.

“I shall go and prepare,” he said. “What will you be wearing?”

“Most likely … a white lace dress,” she said, her cheeks flaming red. “It’s my best dress and Kai insists that I dress in the best I have.”

“Whatever you wear could not hide the beauty I see in you,” Rolando said.

She pulled her hand back and shooed him out, her face a flame. A smile spilt her face. He bowed a farewell to her and backed out of the store. “You could wear pauper’s rags and I would still think you are the loveliest flower in this store.”

“Oh, you,” she exclaimed, her cheeks a deep crimson, as the door closed in front of him.

His heart beating, he raced from the store and returned to his home. He felt light, like a bird; he had a chance now, small as it was. He needed to play his cards very carefully. Jeemo obviously cared for him; that much wasn’t in doubt. Her mother was pushing her to get married and now he could make her his forever. He just needed to convince her mother. First, he would need to impress her mother. A response to this invitation would need to be dealt with, but a simple note would not do. He would deliver his reply in person. He walked along the brick road and passed the assortment of people form many walks of life and races. A dark elf in with body art that curled around her in the form of a flower bush stood on the side of the road and sold flowers; another a male, also with body art, a swirling pattern mosaic, called out to the travellers, shouting out the wares of his shop behind him. A woman in a white tunic belted with a blue sash walked down the streets clanging a brass bell, shouting, “The end is nigh, the seals are falling! Repent and return to the worship of the true gods!” A gaggle of street urchins ran past Rolando and a few seconds later a fat man with a flour-covered apron ran after them waving a rolling pin. A squad of six gnomes in shiny armour flew overhead, their filigree wings droning as they moved in concert with each other. An old woman in black sooty clothes stepped out of the alleyway and stopped in front of him.

“Do you want your future told?” she asked her voice croaking.

“I know what my future holds,” he mocked.

She screeched. “Foolish boy. Chasing a pretty girl will get you nowhere.”

“I am going to get married to that fine lady,” he rebuked and pushed her aside and strode off.

“Your future wife will give you children but, they will be disfigured!” she screamed after him.

Rolando chuckled to himself as he pushed down his concern. He walked out of the market district and entered the gnomish common quarter. Tall spires made from different coloured crystal rose from the earth. Each rivalled the other in colour and brightness. They took the place of the more common brick dwellings and business of the market district. The crystal spires were multifaceted in colour and would change as he walked past them. Once drawn away, they soon became the playthings for the locals. Gnomes on filigree wings flew around like bees in a hive. Never hitting each other, the sounds of their wings droned as they flew from building to building on their own business. One dressed in leather armour dropped down and stopped him, pointing at him with a shiny rapier.

“You must pay the toll,” the gnome insisted.

“This again, Geranae?” Rolando scoffed. “Maybe I should tell the guards.” He looked up behind Geranae.

Geranae twirled and Rolando moved past him and pushed into the district. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“One day that won’t work!” Geranae called out after him.

“When that day comes,” Rolando called back, “we will cross swords.”

“Teaser,” Geranae said, but Rolando had disappeared into the crowd.

Rolando hurried through the crowd, knowing too well that to get into a fight in the gnomes’ district with a gnome would spell certain doom. Other gnomes could use illusion magic to aid their fellow gnomes. One assailant would become three then ten then fifty then too many to count. They were not above a little fun, even if it meant that another non-gnome died in the process. The spires ended and greenery replaced them. A large stone wall ran along the length of the street. He placed his hand on the wall and sighed in relief. He had lived here his whole life and that part of the city still freaked him out. He steeled himself because he had a reply to deliver and a bride to win. He had to make a good first impression. Rolando breathed in deeply, the scent of the many flowers and trees calming him; the smells of lavender, rose and frangipani mixed in with the smell of honeysuckle and acacia. He resumed his walk to his destination, his courage restored. At the crossroads, a large steel-plated armoured man stood with a large wicked-looking halberd at his side, pitted and spikes jutting out at various angles. Rolando looked at this huge man and tried to avoid encountering him. As he walked past, the man in armour turned and looked straight at him. Rolando froze, his hand slowly going to his short sword at his belt, eyes locked on the armoured man.

“I could kill you in two minutes,” a deep voice boomed. “You are not worthy.”

Rolando breathed a little easier as the man turned back to his original position.

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” Rolando asked.

“No one in particular,” came the booming reply. “Just a good death.”

“The city guard normally prevents fights from breaking out,” Rolando informed.

“Then why do you wear a sword belt?” the armoured man boomed.

“It normally takes a few minutes for the guard to get here,” Rolando answered.

“Thank you,” he boomed, “but I do not fear the flying buzzards this city calls city gates.”

Rolando shrugged and headed to the rich district gates. Two men in leather jerkins and simple longswords waved to him. They exuded a quiet confidence with their laid-back posture and unshaven faces.

“Did he try to fight you too?” Rolando asked.

“He did; he didn’t think we could beat him,” the one with a large beard answered.

“Though he thought we would last longer than he thought you would,” the other answered in a gravelly voice.

They both laughed at Rolando as they opened the gate for him. Rolando gave them a black look and let them be. He walked up the street and passed many estates, each built in a different style. One he passed was a large crystal cut to look like a simple home that twinkled in the sunlight. Another estate was made to look like a small fortress, with stone towers and even a moat. Still another looked like a smaller version of the great palace of the king. He came to Jeemo’s house, a simple but elegant house that sprawled on its grounds. A chest-high hedge ran along the outer perimeter, giving the mansion a veneer of privacy while still being able to see who approached. He opened the wrought iron gates and they swung open with ease. They did not even creak. A gravel path gently curved from the gate to the front door that was raised on three white marble steps. He walked along the gravel path, his boots crunching the gravel underfoot. The smell of freshly-cut grass floated in on the gentle breeze that caused his hair to billow. The front of the house was set with several windows covered in a fine lace curtain, giving privacy without obstructing the vision for those inside. He saw one on the left of the front door flick slightly and knew that his presence had been detected. As he ascended the steps, the heavy wooden door opened and a man in a black and white suit with white gloves barred the door. The man waited until he approached the door before speaking.

“How may I help you?” the butler said.

“I have come to give my reply to the lady of the house,” Rolando said, slipping into the familiar formalities his mother and father had drilled into him as a child. He produced the invitation that Jeemo had given him. “I have an invitation.” He presented the envelope. The butler extended his hand, and Rolando placed the invitation into his hand. He opened the envelope invitation and read the card.

“How do you want to reply?” he asked.

“I would like to present my invitation to the lady of the house personally,” Rolando insisted.

“My lady is indisposed at the moment,” the butler said.

“Albert, let the man in,” a gentle woman’s voice commanded.

Albert stood to the side and waved Rolando inside. Rolando stepped in and his breath was taken away. He saw an elegant and slender lady with grey hair, dressed in a blue gown that hugged her body in all the right places. It hung off her shoulders with a thin strap and flowed down to her knees. She was the exactly how he had imagined Jeemo would look when she had aged. There was no doubt this was Jeemo’s mother. Now that he knew that Jeemo would age with grace and beauty, he loved Jeemo even more. Behind stood another woman, evidently much younger and completely naked. His eyes widened. He had heard of the women of Ishtaree and that they refused to dress at all, but this was the first time he had seen one in the service of a great lady. Irrawella’s green eyes sparkled as she saw Rolando’s reaction to Kai.

She smiled. “Kai, fetch me and this young man some tea.” Kai bowed and backed away before dashing down the corridor.

“My lady, this is Rolando Vera,” Albert spoke up.

“I see,” she said without any change to her neutral expression. “Rolando, would you join me for a cup of tea in the sunroom? It is quite pleasant this time of day.” She turned and headed towards the sunroom. Rolando took off his jacket and handed it to Albert and followed Irrawella. At the end of the corridor was a room with three large glass windows covered in elegant lace. The lace allowed light to stream into the room, filling it with the sun’s brightness and at the same time prevented people on the outside seeing in. Around the room were comfortable blue reclining chairs. A small glass table sat between two chairs at the end of the room, placed close so that the occupants could rest and talk quietly to each other in an intimate fashion. The lady of the house was reclining on one. Her blue dress complemented the sofas. Rolando sat on the one opposite as Kai returned, still naked, with a silver tray covered with a teapot that had steam rising out of the spout. She placed the tray on the tea table and then placed out two cups and saucers finally she poured the dark tea into them before backing out with the silver tray.

“My lady, I have never seen an Ishtareen in service before,” Rolando commented.

“Kai is an interesting person,” she explained. “I acquired her because of a bet. Since then she has been most valuable. I haven’t been able to convince her to dress in all her five years of service to me. Enough about the help. You are replying to my daughter’s invitation to dinner for tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lady,” Rolando said.

She chuckled. “Please call me Irrawella.” She smiled at him as she picked up a teacup and took a sip of the still hot tea.

“Thank you, Lady Irrawella,” Rolando said, picking up and sipping from the other cup.

“I can see why she likes you,” Irrawella said. “You were the only person she added to the list and I can see why. Why haven’t you been married yet?”

“I live with my father; my mother remains in Da’Damode,” Rolando blushed.

“I see and it is your mother’s duty to marry you,” Irrawella concluded. “With her being so far away, your mother hasn’t done anything towards that end and your father has left you to your own devices.”

“Yes,” Rolando said. “I wanted to come and confirm my acceptance for tomorrow.”

“I knew you would,” Irrawella said. “Jeemo said that she was the reason you had remained unmarried.”

Rolando did not know what to say so he simply sipped his tea. It seemed this was her plan all along, getting Jeemo to reveal her choice without forcing the issue. The real challenge would be to convince Jeemo to agree to marry him. The game had changed, or had it always been this game and only now he was coming to realise it?