THE FORTUNIST

33. Wuxhia

“The Winter Solstice takes the form of a ring.”

🕳️🕳️🕳️

Fowella's chambers are separate from Wuxhia's in the royal palace. Since they moved in, he hadn't really seen her face to face. It was more than just being busy with the country's affairs. He truly feels guilty on her behalf.

He is scared to address her. He wonders what her button would be. How would she know if he wasn't Xihan, how would she tell her husband from her son?

He takes a deep breath as he stands in the front doors of her chambers and wonders if he should knock. Would Xihan have knocked?

He opens the door and catches Fowella in a state of partial undress. He nearly looks away but he lets his eyes stay. She does not seem too surprised that he had entered without permission as she pulls on a robe to cover her smooth porcelain skin.

"My husband," is all she says in acknowledgement. She sits on the bed and taps the spot beside her. Wuxhia hesitates before moving to it and sitting beside her. He draws in a whiff of her scent, jacque clover.

"I don't know if I've been avoiding you or if you have," she says sultrily, placing a hand on his lap.

"I've been busy."

"Rightfully so," she quips, "I hear things too, you know. About Salem's Flower, about the Winter Solstice. What will you do?"

"They must be found."

She smiles, "so the almighty Fortunist didn't see this coming."

"I'll find the Fortunist again."

Her smile instantly turns to a frown. "I'd have asked for Wuxhia's return but if you are to say yes now, I'll know that you only use him."

Wuxhia gulps, "he's my son too."

"Do you even know the things he suffered? you sent him out into the country alone. He could have died. He came back looking sick. You want to send him after the Fortunist again?"

Something warm blossoms in Wuxhia's belly. He never knew his mother cared about him this much. To him, everything for her had always been Bala, the less insured. "No, Wuxhia will stay away till everything calms down. I now have other resources at my disposal."

"So our son was just a resource to you?"

Wuxhia grits his teeth. Even now, Fowella is being difficult. She will always be difficult. Nothing said can accurately please her. "You know that's not what I meant."

"You're cooking up a storm Xihan, may our House not break away with it."

"You will support me, won't you?"

"Will I?" Fowella throws the question back at him. "You wouldn't even tell me what the Fortunist said."

"You never asked."

"Yes I did," Fowella scowls, "I did and you just said no. Have you forgotten?"

Wuxhia shakes his head as Fowella gives him a suspicious look. He withdraws a scrap of paper from his sleeves and hands it to her. "I had it written out."

"Funny."

"What is?"

"Your handwriting, it's different. Looks a bit like Wuxhia's."

"Oh?"

"This isn't a fortune, this is a riddle," she scoffs as she gives the paper back to him.

"The Fortunist doesn't give riddles, she gives fortunes."

"Xihan."

"What?"

"How do you know it's a she?"

"I… I don't."

"No, no," she laughs, a genuine one, "that's the most you've ever told me about your encounter with the Fortunist. So it was a woman."

"Forget about it, please."

"Okay, I won't tell a soul," she rises and stands front of him. She grabs his hands. "Thank you." She lets him go and moves back a few paces. "So you'll finally get your heart's desire, the crown. That's what the Fortunist promised Wuxhia, don't you find it strange though."

"What is?"

"The Fortunist doesn't give indirect fortunes as long as I've heard. The fortunes usually benefits the very person who is hearing it but what benefit is this to Wuxhia?"

"Anything is possible," Wuxhia says nervously, "I asked him to find the fate of the royal crown, not to receive a fortune for his benefit. Besides if he found the Fortunist, the Fortunist might as well give him what he wants."

"You mean what you want."

Wixhia rises, "I should go."

"I went to consult the dead," Fowella says before Wuxhia can open the door. "You lied to me as if you thought I wouldn't find out. You mock me, forgetting I have a truer claim to the Twin Mountains than you ever will. You let Bala hang by the neck until he was dead. He told me."

Wuxhia swallows, feeling tears spring to the back of his eyes knowing how much he can understand Fowella's pain. "He's where he should be."

"Because the Fortunist came to find him? Because he forfeited his fortune to Wuxhia? Because he forfeited his life along? You took that opportunity to rid yourself of Bala, I know you hated him. But face it Xihan, Wuxhia didn't find the Fortunist, the Fortunist found him. The Fortunist gave him a fortune and he probably gave you a riddle so you can hang yourself trying to take the throne."

"Respect yourself, or I'll send you back home."

"Fine, you've always liked denial more than I did. Do what you want then, you'll always do what you want but the dead want me to tell you you'll pay a heavy price."

"Which of the dead, Meghren?"

Fowella smirks. "I met Meghren already, many years ago when you didn't consider it. I asked him why he died."

"What did he say?"

"It is of no consequence. Perhaps we should stick with the word of his physicians, a stroke."

"Tell me, I order you."

Fowella raises her head haughtily. "I have what you want Xihan, and you have what I want. We are warring heads but we can make peace."

She smiles standing proudly. The warmth blossoms again in Xihan's belly. "But… but the Fortunist…"

"Prove the Fortunist wrong Xihan, prove it wrong." With that, Fowella traipses back to her bed and lies in it. "My bed is always cold, colder now in this place. The Fortunist is punishing me."

Should he, could he really prove the Fortunist wrong? He had sent his father and a random maid into a cryfix. He had coveted a fortune which his mother had just proclaimed to be a riddle. Perhaps it could have been a riddle in Xihan's hands.

But he knows deep within, it is a fortune in his.