The sun hung heavy over the bustling market of Tenochtitlan, painting the air with golden light and the scent of fresh maize tamales. At the heart of the marketplace stood Xochitl, a figure as radiant as the sun itself. Her flowing yellow dress shimmered with every step as though the sunlight had stitched itself into the fabric. The delicate lacework that lined her gown mimicked the intricate weaving of the gods, and her gold belt, embossed with serpentine patterns, marked her as belonging to the city’s elite. Her blonde hair—a rarity that had long sparked legend and whispers—tumbled down her back in waves, shining like fields of maize beneath a midday sun. Her blue eyes, so piercing against her fair complexion, seemed to see straight to the soul of the vendors and villagers surrounding her.
Xochitl wasn’t merely walking; she commanded attention, her hands placed decisively on her hips, radiating the commanding gaze of a noblewoman who expected the world to follow her will. And follow her they did. Vendors paused mid-shout to admire her; maidens whispered enviously behind woven shawls. Little did they know that behind the confidence she wore as deftly as her dress, a storm brewed in her heart.
On this day, Xochitl’s confidence was masking betrayal, anguish, and a simmering ambition for revenge.
The Summoning
Emerging from a side courtyard, Camaxtli, a silver-tongued trader whose wealth grew with every moon, approached her. His tunic was unadorned compared to hers, but his eyes gleamed with cunning—a quality Xochitl had once found endearing. She recalled the promises Camaxtli had murmured to her under the shade of plum trees, his touch light and his words heavy with sincerity. But today, their trade agreement was set to unravel.
“My radiant flower,” he greeted her, his tone dripping with false affection. “You dazzle the market, as always.”
“Spare me,” Xochitl interrupted, her voice sharp but quiet enough not to draw the attention of the fruit seller behind her. “I know what you’ve done, and I’m not here for flattery. I’m here for justice.”
Camaxtli’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly. “You wound me with your accusations. Surely there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Xochitl took a step closer, her skirts swirling like sunlight rippling over water. Her scent—honeysuckle and citrus—reached him, and for a moment, he faltered. But her steady, unrelenting gaze pinned him back in place.
The Revelation
Word had reached Xochitl the night prior in a letter slipped under her chamber door. Gossip had a way of nesting even in the grandeur of noble homes. Camaxtli had betrayed her, selling their shared secrets to her political rivals in the council. Secrets that were meant to strengthen her position, to fortify her claim as the rising star of the elite class. Instead, he had lined his own pockets at her expense, his silver tongue now hissing venom in both directions.
“When you whispered your deceit,” Xochitl continued, “did you imagine I wouldn’t find out? Did you believe your serpent’s cunning could outwit the hawk?”
For a moment, Camaxtli’s mask slipped, and a flicker of panic danced in his eyes. But he steadied himself, his lips curling into a smile. “My love, this paranoia is unbecoming. I’ve always admired your fire—I never thought it would scorch me.”
“You’ll be scorched by more than my fire,” she said icily. From beneath the folds of her dress, her fingers brushed against the jaguar-tooth pendant hanging from her belt—a family heirloom said to bring ferocity to its bearer when called upon. It was time to test its worth.
The Twist
What Camaxtli didn’t know, but would soon learn, was that Xochitl had allies far more loyal than he. Her handmaidens scuttled behind him now, unseen and unnoticed, whispering incantations under their breath. Lola, who carried the bloodline of Sky Priests, had been preparing this spell since dawn. All Xochitl needed to do was delay him.
“Look at me, Camaxtli,” she said, her tone softening as she stepped closer, her dress flaring like a sunflower. “You took what was mine to sell it for your own gain. I would have fought with you against the council… I would have given you more than you could ever steal. But now, you’ve chosen your side.”
Camaxtli laughed nervously, raising his hands. “It wasn’t what you think. It was a simple trade, nothing more.”
“Liar,” she spat.
Behind him, Lola’s spell reached its peak, her words floating away on a whisper of air. The ground beneath Camaxtli’s feet rumbled, then cracked, sending him tumbling forward onto his hands and knees. Vendors screamed and scattered, staring at the cracks snaking outwards from the fissure below.
Xochitl crouched beside him, her flowing yellow dress pooling on the sunlit ground like molten gold, her voice a hiss in his ear. “The gods do not forgive betrayal, but neither do I.”
The Aftermath
As the crowd encircled them, murmuring in hushed tones about divine retribution and fury, Xochitl put on a mask of serene composure. She stepped away from Camaxtli, who was still stunned into silence. Already, the city guards were approaching, their obsidian blades gleaming in the light. Loyal to her through intricate webs of influence, they would escort him away for “questioning,” though both she and Camaxtli knew what awaited him was far more severe.
Standing tall, Xochitl smoothed her dress, ensuring every fold fell perfectly into place. She granted the crowd a radiant smile, dispersing their fears. No one would dare accuse her of orchestrating this public humiliation—it was the will of the gods, after all.
“Let us continue,” she called, her voice carrying authority. “The market awaits.”
The sun bathed her in golden light as she walked away, every whispered word of admiration and terror following in her wake. She held her head high, her blue eyes gleaming. Beneath the grace of her flowing yellow skirts, vengeance had already been served.
And Xochitl was just getting started.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Bright Yellow Bohemian Dress with Lace Details and Gold Belt for a Chic and Sunny Style
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