At Usul's suggestion, I write down the words this heart cannot speak. He pointed out that words are carried away by the wind, and the desert sand is not merciful to our memories. Should this heart find its home one day, I can still look back on who I once was. Usul asked me what I desire, and for now, I desire a love as beautiful as a fairytale.

Rayhan… Oh, Rayhan…! Art thou a dream the Sand God made real for me? Thy manner upon the Great Camel is one of pure elegance. I have seen the Great Camels hundreds of times. I have also seen, hundreds of times, the brawny youths—forged into bronze and iron by the desert’s sand and wind—struggle with them. But thou, singular in thy grace, mounts and reins one in a single beat, quick as a fox, and just like that, the Great Camel ambles along, stopping to unload and load its cargo—more obedient than puppies and gentler than lazy cats.

But my dearest Rayhan, truly, thou art a dream. Thou art here, yet thy soul wanders with the wind god. Every time thou returnest to this Starlight Ridge, thou smilest at everyone, including me. Thou lookest upon all with a gaze gentler than moonlight, including me. Oh, my beloved… Wilt thou not turn thy focus upon this devoted child of the oasis, if only for a moment…?

~~~

Oh Rayhan, today thou art as handsome and resilient as the Lazura shrubs that grow from the rock crevices around Starlight Ridge. Thy grace in mounting and dismounting the Great Camel, even in thy stroll, is softer than silk and more fluid than any of the Holy King’s dancers. I can but pray to the Sand God that He make this dream a reality; that thou wilt no longer be as distant as water in the desert, but that I might touch thee, and see thy face in all its truth—see how it has been weathered by the desert sands, yet has kept its fine elegance.

And I swooned within my heart, for this solemn prayer has been answered!

I now record the tale of how we first spoke, so that in the future, when my children and grandchildren gather ‘round, when I have become a Village Elder, I may still trace back through these lines to ensure that the story of us remains pristine.

The sun was then at its zenith, and all were seeking shelter from the heat. From my window, a sudden feeling struck me that I must have some cool camel’s milk. And so I climbed down from the windowsill, as a cat seeks its freedom in the poetic moonlight. Of course, in this tavern, none are strangers to me, nor would any threaten to report my truancy to my parents. Thus, I sang and conversed with the owner and the usual patrons. Usul, a friend from my childhood, also came to sit for a while. It would have been but another cheerful afternoon for me, until thou appearedst, Rayhan.

The tavern was not so crowded then, as the sun had begun to soften. It was then that thou didst enter.

I suddenly found it hard to draw breath. A sudden Solar Eclipse must have descended. My ears, I am certain, were burning hot. Thou, with thine unwavering poise, called for a drink to be finished in one draught, and turned to speak with utter directness:

“Hello, beautiful.”

I had not thought that a man of thy refined air would possess a voice as deep and somber as the desert’s night winds. By now, my entire face must have become a midday sun, heating the whole of the tavern. And just so, like an expert hunter, thou hadst cornered thy prey, leaving me only to agree to a meeting for the very next night.

Oh, Rayhan…

~~~

Mother speaks the truth: when one is in love, a few days apart can feel like years and ages of longing, yet when together, time is like a handful of sand slipping through the fingers—beautiful, yet so fleeting it cannot be held back.

The moon is so bright tonight. Oh, Moon, wilt thou light his way, that he may walk in peace? I pray that he may ever be safe, from this day forward, and that the morrow night may come swiftly, so that this very moonlight might bear witness to our union.

I know I must find sleep, yet this heart of mine is as bustling as the Winter Solstice market, and so I can only lie awake until the dawn.

If only thou wert here. We only met this afternoon in the tavern, and yet I feel such longing for thee already…

~~~

Perhaps I have been too lost in what is illusory. Rayhan was as beautiful as a dream, and truly, he is an eternal dream. If I were to sink into it, I would never awaken. It is a great sorrow, but this desert already has too many mirages. Usul was right, and I think I ought to apologize to him. But should I? Truly, should I? Usul already knows my nature, does he not?

But that Rayhan dared to put a drug in my wine…

I hope the Tiết Lộc Đông market will help this heart of mine ease its sorrow.

~~~

In truth, I have not yet told my parents what occurred that night. But I told Usul, for otherwise, I would have surely gone mad. He was silent, stroking my head as I cried my heart out. The town, bathed in the tranquil, shadowed moonlight of Starlight Ridge, has eased my heavy heart and helped me sleep more soundly.

Today, with every fist dealt by that champion of men, my heart felt a measure of vindication. The wretch deserved it. The thing is, I had thought that the Winter Solstice market, with its exotic delicacies and rare sights—tasting ice from the distant North, sampling seafood from the Eastern sea—would soothe my spirits. But no, the damned Rayhan appeared. Perhaps because he believed his prey had already been trapped, his fury was that much greater. I cannot blame him. At least two dreams were shattered, but I do not mourn them. Rayhan, however, does.

Nor did I forget to inquire after my hero. He is Jalut, a man of great majesty, taller than any man or youth I know. His helm is fit for the skull of an elephant; his spear requires three grown men to lift; the desert sands must part to make way for him; the desert sun itself softens before his awesome might.

Truly, it is an unforgettable impression: to be saved from those vile wretches by an eminent man who seems to have stepped forth from the tales of the Village Elder and of my own mother.

~~~

Today, I was to meet Jalut once more, and in my own beloved home. By what a coincidence that I was saved by the very man who had business with my father. Oh, could this be the thread of our destiny?

I served him berry wine from beneath a thin veil that covered my face and hair. And by some miracle, he still recognized this good child of the oasis. My father laughed like a cascading waterfall upon hearing the tale of my rescue, and he permitted me to sit and listen to their talk.

Jalut, it turns out, is the captain of the escort for a wealthy merchant in the Capital. This merchant, it seems, enjoys a certain closeness with the Holy King himself. Jalut is currently on leave, taking the opportunity to wander the four corners of the earth to prove his mettle and to learn more. Though his very presence was enough to leave me breathless, his manner of savoring the wine was gentle and refined, not coarse like the men at the familiar tavern. He then recounted for my father his many tales and exploits: how he defeated the troublesome bandits of the borderlands; how he climbed to the summit of Mount Qimmat in just three days and three nights; or how he restrained three Great Camels at once in the midst of a sandstorm.

Their conversation stretched from the reception room through luncheon, and on through afternoon tea. It was only when the sun had softened, casting a saffron glow across Starlight Ridge, that he finally took his leave.

Oh, why do I write so much of him? Oh, can it be…?

~~~

Today, my lord Jalut bestowed upon me a gift! It was a necklace of pure gold, its patterns as intricate as a floral brocade tapestry. The way the gemstones were set into interlocking chains, creating exquisite veins of light, seemed to hold a strange, enchanting power. Of course, I accepted it and put it on at once.

I know not how I found the courage to press a kiss to thy cheek, and to hold thy hands—hands that could move mountains. Oh… Perhaps love has made me foolish. But if a maiden has not the right to be foolish, then who does?

Thou didst also bid me to keep this a secret. Thou saidst to wait until a proper occasion arises to speak with my parents about ‘Our Story.’ Only when all is made official should I allow others to see it; until then, I am to wear it, but discreetly.

I pray the day thou speakest to my parents comes swiftly, for with every moment I wear the necklace thou gavest me, this heart of mine overflows with thine image!

~~~

The Winter Solstice market will end in about four days. I have seen less of Usul lately. It is strange. I remember how, in all the years past, he and I would spend the whole of the Winter Solstice together. We would wander from stall to stall, laughing together from sunrise to the crescent moon. I know that recently, as I have come of age to build a life of my own, I have truly neglected him, but I never intended it.

The first year I knew him was when his parents entrusted him to my mother. He rarely spoke of himself; it was always my mother who told me his story. Usul’s family served a merchant. Unwilling to let their child be blackened by the sun and cut by the desert’s sand and wind, they sent him to be a foster son to our family. Even so, he always kept to himself, as silent as a diligent guard. He smiled so rarely, and usually, only with me.

Having written these lines, I suddenly realize I have never apologized for my own heedlessness, nor thanked him for everything. Oh, how terrible I am. I will break my promise to my lord Jalut and tell Usul about the necklace.

~~~

Usul reappeared two days ago, when the desert dew still clung to the eaves. Mother opened the door for him at once. The first thing he did was observe me carefully, then he hurried in to speak with Father in hushed tones. And since then, I have been made to stay at my uncle’s house.

Because it was so sudden, I brought only a few things with me: some leather-bound books to read for comfort, my own writings, and—I could not bring the necklace my lord Jalut gave me. Perhaps that is why I keep touching my neck. What has happened? Everyone looks as grim as if Starlight Ridge were about to be invaded by bandits. But we have my lord Jalut, do we not? He alone must be worth an entire legion! Why is everyone so worried?

I want to sleep, but I cannot. My neck burns with a phantom itch. I want to write more, but the longing for my lord Jalut is so great that the words feel choked and dammed up inside me. I suppose I will read and watch the moon for solace…

~~~

They say a desert maiden is gentle, like silver moonlight flowing upon an oasis lake. And yet I am deceived by the shimmering mirages of the desert, time and time again. No, I do not weep for them. I weep for the chaos, for the turmoil like a sandstorm within this heart.

Oh, Sand God, did I ever pray for a Holy Family or a Holy Son, to become a daughter-in-law to the Holy King? Nor did I ask for a hero who conquers all, or a merchant who traverses the desert as if it were a market stall. All I ever wanted was a good man, to be his true wife, to love and be loved by him in earnest—a man capable of caring for me and for my parents. I am not crippled, nor am I possessed, so why must You always lure me with mirages so beautiful, and yet so deadly?

I still cannot believe it—Jalut is even worse than Rayhan! That wretch used bewitching charms! It was a good thing Usul, once again, reported to the Holy King’s guard in time to stop me from being completely enthralled by the necklace.

I have decided. I will obey my father’s words and meet with the matchmaker. Though I do not yet understand my own choice, I believe that when I look back on this one day, all will be clear.

~~~

I remember how my mother would often sing while braiding my hair. And when she was finished, she would tuck a Lazura flower behind my ear. After all that has happened, that lullaby now rises gently from my memory:

Oh, beloved,

Our desert is ill-tempered,

Our desert has sandstorms that conceal the sun.

This desert has held so many captive,

This desert silently buries every tent and camp.

And so I ask of thee,

Pray,

For the two of us.

Pray,

That the Lazura flower will bloom each spring.

Pray,

That the Sand God will smile kindly

Upon all the children of the desert.

My mother said she was only singing the words of the wind, words she had heard from her own maternal Grandmother and from the godmothers of her line. I believe those verses have been passed down to me from the Village Elders and from my ancestors.

I do not understand many of my mother’s lullabies. Even now, I do not understand them all. But like the Lazura flower, which shelters itself through the harshest summer months, the most terrible autumn sandstorms, and the biting cold of winter nights, only to burst into bloom on a spring day; I believe that I do not yet understand, and that it will be a long time before I do, but this heart of mine has already begun to sing in harmony.

~~~

Today was the first time I met him. His name is Marco, and he comes from the North, so his skin is fair compared to everyone else at Starlight Ridge. He has spent some time in the Capital and has seen the Holy King in person. He is researching how to transport the Lazura flower for its medicinal value and, because of this, will stay here in Starlight Ridge for the rest of his life. His eyes are a little thin, perhaps a habit from his youth of having to squint against the white glare of the snow in his homeland. I know of ice, but I do not know what snow is like, so he gave me a painting of it. I find it beautiful, but I still cannot picture Marco's homeland. In any case, that is not so important, as he will become a child of the desert, just like me.

Our next meeting will be in two moons' time, as he is still arranging his unfinished business in the Capital. I have promised to find him the most beautiful Lazura shrub as a gift. I suppose I will have to ask Usul for help again.

~~~

This time, Marco was indeed better prepared. His father even joined him on the long journey from the North. Marco’s father is a stout man; though not as immense as the brute Jalut, he gives the impression of a seasoned warrior, and is perhaps a bit coarse. Marco’s mother was lost in an avalanche—which is part of the reason he left the North. He was able to describe the snow to me, and it sounded quite lovely. Perhaps later, when we are settled, he and I can make a pilgrimage to the North to offer a Lazura bloom for his mother.

Marco’s party will remain here for some time, until the wedding day. It is not so far off. The ceremony will take place around the winter season, when the desert is at its most gentle during the day. Marco's side prepared the wedding gifts in record time; I suppose that is another reason my father chose him, aside from his skill in building a considerable fortune in the capital.

Thanks to Usul, though it is now summer and the flowers have just begun to fade, I was able to prepare a pristine and most fragrant Lazura shrub. Usul says that when the Lazura is at its most fragrant, its medicinal properties are at their strongest. I thanked him. Usul has also been busy lately, so we have spent much less time together than before. The day is also approaching when he will come of age and start a family of his own. Yes, he is an important person in this family, though we share no blood. But his title has only ever been “Confidant to the Elder and the Patriarch.” He is much more capable than that. Someone like him will surely be valued by the Holy King. I can only pray that the Sand God will help Usul achieve all that he desires.

~~~

Marco has been arrested. Of course. How could it be otherwise?

Yes, Marco was in the Capital for a time to find connections to sell and smuggle Lazura across the border.

Yes, Marco would stay here in Starlight Ridge for the rest of his life, choosing the daughter of an Elder and a Patriarch to marry, to create a respectable cover and gain influence.

Yes, Marco has no mother, because he is the son of a slave and so does not know who his mother is.

Yes, Marco has a father—a man who was a notorious bandit, who has more than enough wealth and loves Marco as his own son, helping him get established and find business connections, while at the same time retreating to the desert to live out his old age and hide from the law.

Oh, Sand God, what am I to do now?

~~~

To prevent the desert sands from erasing these memories—for they are not merciful to our recollections—I devote all my strength to writing down these words. I hope my tears will not smudge the letters, so that one day, we can read this together and reminisce.

"I have loved you, Nida, from the very first day I met you I have loved you, oh Nida, my Nida, I do not think I could live without you. The day I saw you so infatuated with Rayhan, I was so angry, but I understood; because I have always been silent, silent as the moon gazing upon your hair, I could only pray for your happiness. But Rayhan was not a man who could make you happy; he is a degenerate, and it was a good thing you refused to drink the wine he forced upon you that day, which gave me time to intervene. As for Jalut, he is a scoundrel who was banished by the Holy King for his depraved acts, so I could not interfere alone—he was, after all, a mighty general whose battlefield exploits were real. And when Marco appeared, I was ready to accept it, because I truly believed he was a good man. But the way he used your position as a cover for his activities proved he was not meant for you, and you were not meant for him. Because the way you asked me to find that Lazura shrub felt like the desert before a storm—silent, but not peaceful—I rushed to investigate and discovered the reason Marco was so interested in the Lazura.

"I knew I had to do something, because fate has not been merciful to you, my beloved Nida. So I am saying all of this now so you understand that you still have your family, and you still have me. But I have nothing, so I will go to the Capital to represent your father, to show them what capable and good children of the desert we have here at Starlight Ridge. And so I hope that you will let the springs of hope refill your arid soul. Oh, Nida, please wait for me, Nida. The day I return, we will have our wedding ceremony, witnessed by all the people of Starlight Ridge."

~~~

Perhaps I have not left the house for a whole month. In the blink of an eye, the Winter Solstice market has returned. This year, I will not have Usul by my side. No.

Perhaps I was the last to realize his true feelings. Even my parents, though they knew before I did, were always silent—I suppose because he asked them to be, and because of the distance in our stations. My parents trust Usul more than they trust their own daughter. It is funny, but it is true that I also trust Usul more than I trust myself.

And so, Usul, my love, I will pray for you. This is a lullaby of my mother’s that I have adapted. I will sing it for you on the day you return, safe and sound, so you will understand that you are always you, no matter who you are, oh my love:

Oh, beloved,

Our desert has a golden sun,

Our desert has a silver moon.

This desert has raised so many generations,

This desert silently shelters an oasis amidst Starlight Ridge.

And so I will

Clasp my hands and pray,

That your Great Camel will be hale and strong.

Clasp my hands and pray,

That the Lazura flower will bloom each spring.

Clasp my hands and pray,

That the Sand God will smile kindly

Upon the children of us two.