The Iron Butterfly by Chanda Hahn

right?” Avina whispered in a hushed voice, hoping that Ruzaa wouldn’t overhear.
    “Aren’t we all?” I answered back.
    “Come on.” Avina pulled me toward the mercantile districts and their brightly painted yellow shops. “We have to get you some material for a new outfit for the Founding Celebration. Oh, and a mask!”
    “Founding Celebration?”
    Avina rolled her eyes at me. “You know, the Founding Celebration, the midwinter celebration in honor of the founding of Calandry. Are you going with anyone?”
    My mind immediately went to Joss but then a picture of him and Syrani flashed in my mind. “Um no, I didn’t know that you had to go with someone, I thought you could go as a group?”
    “Of course you can go as a group. But on the final night of the Celebration, the Palace holds a masked event... It’s the one night of the year when everyone in the Citadel is equal, and of course there is dancing and contests. But the best part is when the Faeries pass out matching dance tokens to the male and female guests; you are supposed to find your match to redeem your dance,” she rushed out almost in one breath. Her eyes got a dreamy look before finishing. “And then at midnight, when the bell tolls midnight, whoever kisses you is meant to be your true love.” I was getting lost in her babble of love, fairies and tokens.
    “That seems unlikely. It sounds like the drivel a bunch of desperate girls would make up,” I chuckled.
    “But, Thalia!” Avina whined, eyes opening wide, “I am a desperate girl. And it's not drivel. I didn't make it up. It's tradition.”
    “It's a stupid tradition.” I could see that my comment hurt her as her shoulders slumped dejectedly. Leaning over I nudged her. “So are you going with anyone?”
    “No, I wish though.”
    “Well I’m not going with anyone either, so I don’t see the point of getting all dressed up especially when no one knows who you are.”
    “I see your point Thalia, but still…” Avina’s words drifted off as she pretended to dance with an invisible dance partner. Doing a curtsey and bowing in acceptance, she spun around and around until she accidentally bumped into a man. Then Avina tripped and went flying into a crate full of passionfruit.
    “Now look here!” A stern vendor with a full beard yelled at us while his upset wife came rushing out into the street to try and save the fruit. She grabbed the closest crate and attempted to put the passionfruit in them while Avina followed the fruit rolling into the street, nabbing them and putting them in her apron.
    “Sorry! I’m so, so, sorry,” Avina cried. A wagon drawn by two horses came rushing down the street, and the driver didn’t slow down as the bounty of fruit was crushed beneath the hooves and wagon wheels.
    “NOOOOO! Oh, this is terrible. What am I to do?” she cried.
    By this time the merchant was furious and the wife was crying into her apron. He wagged his finger at Avina, demanding payment for their very expensive fruit that they shipped in from a southern province. A baby began to wail in the back of the store and the wife rushed in to calm the crying baby. She returned red faced and teary eyed, the same emotions mirrored on her baby’s face.
    “Oh, please, how much was that crate of fruit?” Avina asked, opening up her small coin purse, getting ready to dump it all into the merchant’s hands if need be. When he stated the cost of the fruit, she paled and her hands began to shake. “I don’t have that much.” She looked at me in despair. I looked at my coins, and even if I gave her all of my money, we wouldn’t come up with a quarter of the cost that the merchant was demanding.
    “Oh, come now,” a cultured voice interjected. Looking up, I was surprised to see Adept Cirrus, his white blonde hair no longer pulled back in a ponytail. He was dressed in non-formal attire, but the attention to detailing on his clothes still drew attention to his prestige and obvious wealth. Not