She wore red, he wore white, and together they absconded from the revelry hoping no one would notice. The music in the palace's ballroom chased man and dragon out into the hall. She stopped them out of earshot and just before a turn in the glowing crystal lit hall, intense stare watching a pair of drunken humans walk off to the north.

"We should not be doing this," Vaarsilla whispered, the jade scaled dragoness' tail swishing. "What if we are seen?"

Conrad, sharp and cheery looking in his all white silk clothes complete with ruffles at the wrist, took her arm in his and led the much taller dragon down the less traveled south wing of the royal palace. "What's wrong with me guiding a friend to see a special surprise in the gardens?"

She hated his confident little smile for how it made her heart flutter like she was still a junior scribe.

"Now you make it sound as if we are lovers departing upon a tryst," she nearly growled.

"As if I cannot quiet falsely flapping tongues," he chuckled, implacably cheery as always. "I'll not let any impugn a lady's honor, and never that of a dear friend hiding her somber mood."

He fondly patted her arm and she held him a little tighter, despite the scoff that came out of her mouth. She didn't want to be alone tonight of all nights, and curse him he had sensed it in her. That or he used that delightful peach wine his orchard produced to pry her private concerns out of her superior, Kirthaan. How that Greys damned wizard ever became a trusted dignitary she didn't understand, nor could she comprehend why Conrad liked being around someone like herself. As far as dragons went she wasn't much to look at, her horns were short, and her red dress only drew eyes for how low the neck was cut.

"Watch your horns," he said, effortlessly slipping from her grasp.

Panic pricked through Vaarsilla's thoughts. How had he done that? Had she upset him? Was he about to abandon her, after she'd let her hopes rise about this surprise he wanted to show her? No, she would take it all back, she-

Conrad swung a door open and gestured grandly for her to go ahead of him, that infuriating smile crooked on his chiseled face.

Her earfrills burned in embarrassment and anger at herself that she'd never let anyone, dragon or otherwise, see. Decades of practicing etiquette of a dozen kingdoms led her through the door with an appreciative nod, her crest frill dangerously close to brushing against the doorway. This time she offered him her arm. Conrad slipped back to her side as easily as he got away, Vaarsilla wondering if she should try harder to keep him close.

Or if she should start pushing him away before her feelings ran too deep, and she thought about breaking the taboo against... 'intimate' involvement with a non-dragon. Friends were allowed, even expected in her position, but anything more walked a dangerous line.

Conrad decided for her by gently urging her along, but in truth that smile of his did it. Beneath the humor lurked something that reminded her of staring into a mirror, only she couldn't glance away from what hid there. Something about him fascinated her, and she hated that she knew it.

Conrad took her to a garden she'd only briefly passed through once, wooden lattices arching over a center pool and softly bubbling fountain, the ivy woven through no doubt offering shade during the day. He brought her under the arches, light of the twin moons peaking through, and held his finger up to his mouth for silence.

Of course he knew she was about to ask what they were here for.

He brought her to a stone bench just barely wide enough to fit them both. A devious part of her thoughts, that she cursed into silence, wondered if he would've been offended to sit in her lap.

Vaarsilla didn't know how humans survived their faces flushing when struck with emotion and embarrassment.

Hip to hip they sat, and it was because of nothing more than the dainty size of the bench. She told herself that as her tail twitched, almost acting on its own. She had to curl it around the bench to stop herself from getting too familiar with the human. It wasn't proper or just for a dragon to get too attached to the far shorter lived species. She had to be aloof, she knew that, and push him away before it was too late.

"Ah," Conrad inhaled excitedly, pointing up. He whispered, "I'll be, they like you."

Again she felt that jab of panic, but she squashed it almost instantly by looking where he pointed. It was unfair how easily he distracted her from the dark thoughts and recollections.

A breath caught in Vaarsilla's long throat, her jaw slackening.

Hundreds of buds glowed soft as the stars above, the bravest of them unfurling petals amid the hanging ivy vines. More and more blossomed, a subtly sweet scent settling over the garden like a warm blanket. Pearlescent reflections wavered and rippled through the fountain's curtains of water, illuminating the heroic statue of carvings of the kingdom's founders hidden within. The glow danced across her dress and scales, wonder and more suffused in the light.

And there was magic. Faint yet pure motes of magic, invisible to his eyes, that reminded her of home so much she could almost hear the whistling breeze that ran through Starsea Gorge once. The sadness she'd buried in a corner of her heart stirred at that.

"The blossoms are shy," he whispered, voice enchanted by the sight and dragging her back to the present. To him. "I haven't seen them warm up to anyone this quickly since..."

Out of the edge of her vision she spied melancholy try to take him. The mirth and love of life that gave Conrad such a friendly face was nowhere to be found. Instead the man beside her was lost in a nightmare that couldn't break him, the shimmering glow of light across his white clothes reminding her of scales, only his were impervious to what would shatter her. The drifting motes of magic pulsed and rolled with his breaths, and Vaarsilla noticed for the first time how stern Conrad's features were, as if he were a guardian statue at a temple entrance instead of a human. Her hand slid upon his, her tail long since curled around his ankle. Sword callouses gave his fingers and palm a rough, but powerful, feeling. Something else, even more hardened and numbed, made him start to pull away from her touch.

Even he had weaknesses, but she hadn't meant to hurt them.

"Forgive me, good lady," he said, bringing his smile back like a mask. "I didn't mean for my wandering thoughts to scatter the delight that took you."

She leaned towards him, neck and height making the angle awkward. Vaarsilla's heart thumped against ribs as she laid a gentle kiss upon his cheek - it was a friendly gesture, she told herself, nothing more. "I shall forgive you if you share those wandering thoughts of yours."

His hand went still in hers, as if he just now noticed she had been the one to touch him first.

"Then I must endure whatever punishment you find befitting my disrespect," Conrad said, resolute eyes prepared for anything.

Even the cruel rejection she knew she must give him. No, he knew it was coming. That it had to come. Every noble of the city had been made aware, through well placed and managed rumors, that dragons were forbidden from being truly intimate with others. But she couldn't say the words they both needed.

Not here, surrounded by glowing blossoms that weren't just shy, they were only showing themselves to her because of him. Did he know that they had a will within? That the blossoms were watching and, tragically, approving of them?

The hint of the moons' light leaking between the ivy only strengthened an ache she tried to ignore in her heart. Why did it have to be today of all days?

"If that is your choice," Vaarsilla said, squeezing his hand, "then tell me. Is this a day of grief for you as well?"

A slight shift of his head might as well have been a cry of surprise. He considered her as few men bothered to try, taking in her gaze as the mask of a smile left his face.

"It is," he said.

"Who was it?" she asked, turning and taking his other hand so that he might not retreat from her. "If I may be so rude as to ask."

Even if she had to end this before the night was over, she wanted to share this moment. This small connection that felt so much heavier when he opened his mouth.

"Because it's you, it's anything but rude," he smiled, the expression withering. He refused to look away, even if he wanted to. "Today is the twelfth year since my wife's passing."

Vaarsilla wanted to do or say something, but what? Even without the constraints of her people, how could she hope to compare her grief to something like that?

"These Silverblooms are cuttings she took from my family's heirloom garden" he said, looking up and certainly not hiding his eyes. "She insisted upon adding them here when this fountain, yet another marvel from the Anonymous Source, was being built. It was during the last year of her strength, and we did it together, without servants. What joyous work that was, in such a dark month. Somehow she even got me to promise I'd visit the flowers. She said they would be lonely if I didn't."

Conrad laughed, devoid of any humor, at himself and looked away. "My apologies, Vaarsilla. I am a clumsier man than I look, and only now realize how crass I have been dragging you here."

She'd known he was a widower, it was gossipped about by ladies of the court when Vaarsilla first started laying down diplomatic relations with Conrad. But if she'd had even the slightest idea the man had loved his wife as he so clearly did, she would've dragged those rumor spreading hariadans out of the palace by their hair instead of moving the conversation along. Political marriages were the norm in this kingdom so she'd thought nothing of his deceased wife at all, why she had never even heard the woman brought up before. And now Vaarsilla knew why he kept quiet.

That only tangled up her already complicated feelings towards him more. Worsening it for her was the sorrow of knowing she'd have to lose him, and all his smiles, one way or another.

He was human, and she was a dragon. It could never work between them, even without the laws of her people forbidding anything serious. She had hundreds of years ahead of her, and he had a few more decades.

Why did her mind have to go there so quickly? He wanted to make her feel better, not worse, and she only found ways to ruin this special sight for them both.

"Do not apologize, Conrad," she said carefully. "I am honored you would share such a beautiful sight with me."

She gently gripped his fingers, tail quivering in an irrepressible thrill when he squeezed back instead of slipping away. The flowers, reflections, and motes of magic were stunning. Yet it was how the light danced across Conrad that threatened to steal Vaarsilla's wits along with her breath. If he was plain or ugly for a human, she didn't know or care. The shimmer cast upon him almost gave form to the inner strength within him.

"So that you believe me, I will-" she began quietly, only to be cut off.

"Say no more, good lady. I already do."

"Vaarsilla," she insisted, against her better judgement. "Or just Vaar. Please, no titles. Not from you."

"Only among friends, Vaarsilla," he promised.

How he said her name was lethally dangerous for the thrill it sent down her tail.

Now she had to mask something with a smile she only mostly felt. Good sense kept her from anything rash, just barely. And what she had to say, it wouldn't be easy. She wouldn't run from it.

"I lost my brother upon this day, many years ago," she said quietly. "That is why I have been so out of sorts. He asked me to try and smile whenever I saw the moons on this day, to remember the happier times instead of..."

Her words trailed off, and Conrad demanded nothing of her. Instead he held her hands and leaned in, just a little.

"Would it be crass," Conrad said, "to ask what happened?"

"Kirthaan has not told you?"

"He only warned me you might need company."

Vaarsilla would find out if that was true tomorrow, but for now she was inclined to believe Conrad.

"It is not crass coming from you." She realized she had scooted close to him on the stone bench, but there was nothing to do about that now. "There was a mine accident. I... I could never bear to learn what transpired, but I was able to see him. Before his wounds took him. It..."

Confoundingly, Conrad got one of his hands from hers and she only noticed it when he started wiping her tears away.

"It's hard to say goodbye like that," he whispered, his own eyes misty. "And to not let it overshadow the good memories."

"This is the first year I have not been home for it, for him. I would always look out from our home in the Starsea Gorge and sing his favorite song to the moons," she whispered, immediately regretting sharing that instead of asking Conrad about the pain so obvious in his eyes.

Why had she shared that?

And why did Conrad look like he cared?

Why hadn't she fled already?

"I'm sorry we've kept you from that."

"It was my choice," she said, catching his hand that got away and enjoying how warm he felt against her scales. "This diplomatic mission needed my skills. Goddess alone knows who else could keep Kirthaan in line."

"Surely you could have taken a month to travel, or however long those pretty wings of yours need to return home and back."

He didn't mean anything by the compliment, at least she told herself that while glad once more her face didn't flush. "I chose to stay. And, in truth, I finally found the strength to listen to some of my brother's words. He wanted me to not spend the day of the accident alone, if I could withstand it."

"That's something else we share."

"What is that?" She asked, trying not to cringe at the curious and lonely sound in her voice.

Discomfort shifted Conrad where he sat, but the man's face never wavered. Nor did he try to get his hand away from her cheek where she held it.

"My wife made me swear to never pass this night alone," he said, sight somewhere other than the present. "I think she was afraid I'd drown myself in misery and wine, until one year it finally took me."

"I am grateful you listened to her wisdom."

"Not all of it, I fear," he said sadly, before looking at Vaarsilla.

Not as a dragoness or some foreign treasure to behold. Conrad had never looked at her like that. She knew he liked her. That he would accept friendship as readily as anything else, or so she hoped after spending months in his company and working together on implementing new booking at his city gate, but now Vaarsilla understood his stare a little better. He hurt, in a different way than her, perhaps worse than she could imagine, but he had the strength to endure it better than she ever could. Sharing the glow of the silverblossoms with her meant more to him than he could express in words. He'd hurt if she pushed him away, but he'd come away from it stronger. Tempered, like hammered bronze.

"Harsh as the roads are that brought us to this moment," he said, taking his hands from hers, "it brought me joy to share the silverblooms' light with you, Vaarsilla."

Of course he was leaving, ending what had never even been spoken into existence between them.

"It was a delight I never knew I needed," she said, desperately wishing for him to stay but unable to speak it. "Thank you, Conrad. I will always treasure the moment."

The moment hung in the air, the motes of magic still around Conrad as he looked at Vaarsilla. She knew he'd leave, or find an excuse for them to part ways. He had wanted to share the moment with her, not allow anyone to see that hurt he kept so neatly tucked away in his heart. But at least he seemed at peace, and he even had a bit of his crooked smile back.

He stood up and her heart sank, tail slinking off of his ankle. It was over, as it should be. Dragons were too passionate for any entanglement with any but their own long lived kind, Vaarsilla knew that, and Conrad was too chivalrous to do more.

Hands, strong yet gentle, cupped her face, and proved her wrong when Conrad stole a kiss.

He started to say something, but the dam around her heart crashed apart and swept away in a flood of loneliness, passion, and longing. Vaarsilla pulled him down, back into the kiss, and at some point they ended up on the ground.

It was a horrible idea, a near absolute taboo, but she couldn't stop herself. This man wanted her, the dragoness felt the same, and there was no one to watch the mingling of red and white except for the silverblooms.

And maybe, an approving last will sighing in relief amongst the motes of magic.