Sun Kissed

11. The Request (EDITED)

11. The Request

The peacock dress was itchy and frankly, too small. Citrus was tired of checking the hem in the back, which always felt like it was riding up too high. She wore her dark red hair braided over one shoulder. With the incorporation of white thread and glass beads, the braid looked lazy and half finished when in fact it took the stylists hours to pull off.

Though her cocktail dress was almost constructed entirely of feathers, it seemed modest compared to the grander feathered ensembles worn by the majority of Master's guests.

Citrus had begged him to let her skip the party.

Not this time, was his reply. I've pardoned you from too many events. You are my student and frankly, you need to start acting like it.

Then he had further punished her by making her wear this impractical garment.

Citrus sneezed. She had never been around so many Encantados at once. Their collective scents pressed in on her and projected a claustrophobic atmosphere onto an otherwise spacious and exalted ballroom. She looked at the domed ceiling and wished she could float up into it, away from all of the mestres and the bohemians and the foreign dignitaries.

This was Master's party, yet Citrus didn't see him anywhere. Not that it mattered. She wasn't trying to look for him. If anything, she strived to go the entire night unnoticed.

"Found you! Maria, where have you been?"

The crowd parted like a wave.

Apparently Master had sent the Professor to retrieve her so he could show her off to his more notable party guests. Citrus didn't like disappointing the Professor, but she had no intentions of taking his hand and following him into that feathery congestion of intoxication and blissful euphoria.

Instead, she briefly started towards him, and when he turned his back to guide her to the Master, she took advantage of the opportunity and bolted.

Citrus pushed past half-naked dancers and dauntless fire-eaters. She didn't care that parts of the transparent ceiling filtered milky, ethereal light. It all came from the great celestial rock that weighed over the palace like low-hanging fruit. Each clan referred to it as Mother Moon, and did so with unified reverence. But Citrus thought it of less as a mother and more of an overseer. Watching her every move. Reading her every thought.

She had to get away.

~

Amancio stared at the unconscious girl lying beside the riverbank. No matter how many times he swallowed, his throat still felt swollen and full of fuzz.

"What do you want me to do again?"

    Julio made a noise that signaled he was at the end of his patience.

"I want you to court her, Amancio. And since hypnosis won't work, you'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

Amancio took in Sofia's long, tanned legs and followed them up her body. His gaze rested on the mole near her eye. Her lips pouted in slumber. She was beautiful, sure, but . . .

"Master, I don't know if I can force feelings that aren't there."

Julio swore. "You ungrateful little brat. Did you forget how you spent the last twenty years whining nonstop? Master," he mocked, "I'm all alone. Master, I have no one to talk to. No one to play with. Now you finally have a playmate. So play."

Amancio tore his eyes away from the girl. "What, like pretend?

Julio dropped the taunt. "Yes, exactly like pretend. Do you think you can do that? For me?"