Ziva stood in her room staring into the mirror. Her maid, Ana, had painted her face. She wanted to use a bold, bright red on her lips and cheeks. Ziva had refused. Ana gave in to her reserved nature and painted her lips a light pink and her cheeks only a shade darker.

Ana had argued for brighter colors on her eyelids. “At least, a peacock blue to highlight your eyes?” she had said.

Tigre, her yellow and black cat, stared up at her and emitted a single yowl.

“Tigre is right. Peacock is too bright. It makes my eyes fade. Do you have a blue closer to the color of my eyes?” Ziva compromised on this one point.

Ana had smiled and dug through her paints until she found the shade that matched Ziva’s eyes. She had wanted to use a similar color to paint her fingernails, but Ziva insisted on a light pink.

“I am still a young girl. I am not yet ready to paint myself so brightly. I do not want that kind of attention.” Tigre jumped on Ziva’s lap, kneaded her gently with his front paws, then curled up to sleep.

Ana had nodded and stopped pushing.

At fifteen, Ziva felt much too young to try to appeal to men in that way. She enjoyed the feel of Ana brushing her long hair that looked like spun honey. Ana had carefully dressed her hair, placing a beautiful pin to hold the curls back from her face.

Ziva had set Tigre on the floor and stood while a long, filmy dark blue dress, created from the fabric she had purchased at Bram’s shop, had been pulled over her head and tied with braided fabric matching the dress.

Now, she stood staring at her reflection. “I guess this will work,” she murmured, half to herself.

“It works. You look lovely, my dear.” Orak’s deep voice startled her.

She glanced toward the door and smiled. “I don’t look too … too grown up, do I? I am not ready to leave you.”

Orak pulled her into a bear hug, careful not to disturb her hair or mar the face paint. His love radiated through the hug and warm smile. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Orak stepped back, spinning Ziva around.

“Uhm hmmm. You do look good. Almost like a grown woman.” He held up his hands to stop her flurry of words. “Not a grown woman, but almost. I know you are not ready, but it will be hard to hide your beauty for much longer.”

Ziva felt the bright red of embarrassment color her face. “Oh, Father.”

“I do not lie, Ziva. You know my honor.”

“I do, but I do not like what you say. I do not want some man to claim me. Is there not a better way?” Great tears welled up inside her eyes.

“Be careful of your face paint,” Orak warned. “We do not have time for Ana to redo it.”

Ziva sniffed and regained control of her emotions, smiled, and reached over to pet her cat’s back. “Bye, Tigre. Be good now.” She took her father’s hand.

“I’m ready. Will you stay with me awhile when we get there?”

Orak nodded and smiled down on her as they left her suite. She felt comfort in his loving presence.

When they arrived at Roven’s home, she descended from the light carriage holding Orak’s hand. She looked around, noting the other conveyances moving to the side of the residence. The numbers indicated neither a small party nor an enormous one. It appeared to be large enough she could stay out of the line of attention, yet small enough to find her friends. It should be a nice evening.

Orak clasped her hand, as promised, as they walked through the doors and into the large public parlor. They nodded to other guests and wandered through the crowd. He seemed to be happy to be seen with his beautiful daughter, not interested in discussing the cares of the merchant world this evening.

“You did come!” Kara squealed when she caught sight of Ziva. “Mother said all the eligible girls and their families were invited to this party. Bede had to stay home. She is too young. I was not certain you would come.”

“Oh? That kind of party?” Ziva stared at Orak. “Father?”

“Roven agreed to sponsor a party to help some of the men who need a mate. It is difficult for them to meet young women.” Even beneath his dark skin, Ziva saw red tinting his neck and cheeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would not have come.” She allowed the frustration to tinge her whisper.

“I know. That is why I didn’t tell you.” Orak smiled. “You cannot remain in my home forever, though I would love for you to do that. You know our customs. Girls need to be mated.”

“You know how I feel about that,” she said between her teeth while smiling to her friend. “We will talk of this later.”

Orak sighed, though he did not lose his smile. “Make the best of this. Enjoy.”

Ziva lifted her head, placed an elegant smile on her face, and slipped her hand into Orak’s. “I will. I’ll find you later, Kara.”

Ziva and her father strolled through the crowd, her eyes searching for Tawna. She had supposed Tawna would arrive earlier, but from behind, she heard her friend’s voice calling. She turned in time to catch her friend’s gentle hug. Now she felt she could enjoy this party, with Orak and Tawna’s help.

When Orak slipped away, flashing a smile in her direction, Ziva wondered briefly about his business. Then, Tawna pulled her along and they began to stroll, arm in arm, around the room.

“Your dress is beautiful,” Ziva said. “That color suits you. I can never wear that shade of orange. It makes me look yellow.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“And your dress matches your eyes. What is this party all about? All the available girls our age are here.”

“Father says Roven offered to have this party to show off the eligible girls for the men. Too many young men are unmated. I suppose we are here as bait.”

Tawna raised her lovely eyebrows. “Bait? Rather harsh, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose. You know how I feel about all this.” She felt her smile falling and purposefully reset it.

“I know. Maybe the man who chooses you will be kind.”

“You jest! These men believe we are beneath them. Female mates are property to be brought out and shown off, like prized baubles.” Ziva covered her contempt with a smile. Anyone looking their way would never guess. Tawna heard it and frowned.

“Do not think about that now. Dinner will be served soon. What do you think it will be? Where is Kara?”

The girls strolled through the crowds, greeting friends, and discussing inconsequential things. Kara joined them, her voice adding to the general noise of the occasion.

“Who is that?” Ziva whispered, her eyes pointed toward a man standing on the edge of the crowd. “I feel his stares.”

“Who? Oh, Qinten. He is a priest of Lorca. One of the unmated.”

“He is dark. No, no.” Ziva blocked the protests of her companions. “Not his color, though it is dark. I feel a darkness in his soul.”

“His soul?” Tawna’s eyebrows arched high once more. “Do men have souls?”

“Everyone has a soul. And his is dark,” Ziva replied with a sigh.

“Then you must hope he does not decide he wants you as his mate.” Kara laughed and patted the back of Ziva’s hand.

“Truly. I pray Orak is strong, and refuses.” Arm in arm, the three girls swished their skirts and moved on.

~ ~ ~

Ziva felt Qinten’s eyes brush across her several times that evening as she, Tawna, and Kara strolled about the room. She knew her trio of friends were contrasting in looks and behavior. Her modest dark blue dress matched her eyes and showed off her pale skin, honey-colored hair, and her quiet demeanor. The only jewelry she wore was seven black, tan, and orange clay beads.

She had long ago grown out of the length of hemp they had been originally strung on. Orak had found her crying when she was about seven. The hemp had shredded and the beads scattered. He helped her gather them from the floor, placing them in a small cup. Later he presented her with a fine gold chain and helped her string the beads on it. She wore it all the time. For some reason, it gave her comfort.

Tawna, taller and more outgoing than Ziva, wore a burnt orange dress, with a deeper neckline than Ziva would ever wear, that complemented her dusky brown skin and green eyes. A single strand of pearls surrounded her neck.

Shorter than either of her friends, Kara wore a bright yellow dress, matching her outgoing nature and highlighting her raisin-colored skin and amber eyes. The neck of her dress, too, dipped much lower than Ziva’s, while her skirt daringly opened on the side, hand spans above her knees. Chains of gold encircled her neck and arms.

A servant announced dinner and directed the crowd to a large dining room. Orak appeared out of the crowd and escorted Ziva toward the dining area, while her friends found their families. She and Orak chose a table near the edge of the room. Soon, Tawna arrived with her parents, brothers, and sisters, sitting on both sides of the table, nearly filling it.

“Look.” Ziva nudged her friend with her elbow. “Qinten thinks he will sit with us.”

“I doubt he will find room.” Tawna directed her friend’s attention to Kara’s family who was bearing down on the table. ‘Kara and her sisters will fill the table.”

Kara sat with her parents and sisters across from Ziva. Bram greeted both Orak and Korm before he sat between his wife and Kara. Qinten sauntered past, staring at Ziva, Tawna and Kara. Ziva saw a dark look pass through his eyes as he saw there would not be room for him. He glided past to a seat.

The noise in the room dropped significantly when servers brought each table food. Still, Ziva was aware of Qinten, sitting nearby at a table of boisterous young men who seemed not to care if the girls, and their fathers, heard their ribald remarks. She knew Orak would not give her to any of these vile men. Qinten, however, sat apart from them, choosing not to participate in their jests. She felt his gaze roam across her and studiously avoided glancing in his direction.

Ziva enjoyed the food almost as much as the company. No cost had been avoided in its preparation, and the cool peach ice desert washed away the heaviness of the other courses. Happy the meal had ended, she rose and linked arms with her friends.

“We are going to the facilities, Father. Do enjoy yourself.” Ziva flashed a smile in Orak’s direction as they left.

“Great dinner, but I’m glad it’s over.” She sighed and rubbed her stomach.

“Yes, too long sitting. I hope we can dance. I love dancing.” Kara’s eyes sparkled at the thought. “Will you join us tonight, Ziv?”

Ziva enjoyed watching her dance, from the sidelines. “Maybe, if the music isn’t too wild. I don’t want to shake my brains out.”

“I don’t care what they play. I’m ready to dance!” Kara let go of Ziva’s arm and twirled around.

“Not me, Kara. I don’t want to shiver and shake everything off. I don’t care what the ‘men’ say.” Tawna shook her head as they entered the ladies room, lining up behind others with the same idea.

When they finally managed to leave, the girls promenaded toward the ball room. The music jangled against Ziva’s ears, but Kara giggled and entered the dance alone to spin and dance. Soon, a young man bowed and spun her away. Ziva could hear her laughter in the quiet spaces of the music.

She and Tawna found seats along the wall to watch. Several of the foul-mouthed men from the table nearby asked them to dance. Both Ziva and Tawna shook their heads. Not this music. Not those men.

When the tempo changed to something more moderate, Tawna accepted the invitation of a young man to dance. Ziva watched until another man offered her his hand. At least, he’s not one of those foul-mouthed men.

“My name is Crites,” he said as he took her by the hand.

She stood and whirled away with him onto the dance floor. They laughed and visited through the song and another, then the music increased in tempo and she had him return her to her seat, with a promise to return for another dance.

The wild music brought out the shaking and shivering she refused to participate in. Tawna’s escort swirled her to her seat, with a promise of drinks. The girls watched the gyrations of the dance as they visited.

The music slowed and Kara dropped into a chair on the other side of Tawna. “I need a break.”

A servant offered them drinks. “Orange juice for me,” Tawna declared. “I need to clear out my throat.”

“I’m going to try the …” Kara glanced at the faces of her friends, and her hand moved from the wine to an apricot juice. “… one of these.”

Ziva asked for a glass of cool water. “The sweetness of juice is cloying,” she said with a shrug.

The tempo of the music picked up, and soon Kara danced out onto the floor with yet another partner. Tawna and Ziva accepted a dance with different men, and joined the mass of dancers. When the tune ended, Ziva made an excuse and returned to a chair. She did not want to be pawed by eager young men.

Several dances later, Ziva noticed Qinten amble toward Bram. They spoke with heads together to hear above the music. The song ended and Bram signaled to Kara with a nod of his head.

Kara joined the men and, after a brief discussion, sauntered to the drinks table with Qinten. Ziva allowed a small growl to escape before planting a smile back on her face. Not her business.

Later, when dancing with yet another man, she noticed Kara speaking even louder than usual, her motions exaggerated. Qinten had long since given her to another. Not good for Kara.

After the dance, Ziva accepted another glass of water and joined Tawna in watching a slow, groping dance. Over Tawna’s shoulder, she saw Qinten staring at them.