Awaking shortly before dawn on her birthday, Romelle rummaged through her father's closet for a roomy shirt to wear over the gold brocade culottes she had worn on the day of the ruby ray. Her feet were shod in the white boots with gold butterflies given her by Dash. She found a stack of linen shirts. One of them was gold, a perfect match for the culottes. She bound it to her with a violet-colored tie around the waist.
She dressed quietly, putting on the Empress's earrings and Philo's ring. Let these yellow gems capture the sunlight and fill me with the essence of the new day.
She slipped out of the cottage. On the porch, she realized it would be difficult to pass through the bivouac of the guards without risking discovery. Having allowed Fate into the fenced garden behind the house, she went out that way.
 Passing Beth's Tree of Heaven, she touched a spray of vines trailing from its branches. The life you gave me, Mother, has been sweet. Thank you, my darling. On my birthday, I think of you.
Fate came to her for a morning kiss. Romelle mounted and rode slowly through the predawn mist, looking for a vantage point from which to watch the sunrise.
She heard a noise and looked down.
Rebel had joined them.
Dayan watched her go. He, too, had wakened early after talking with his father late into the night about his love for Romelle. The sight of her lifted his heart and focused his mind. She had never looked more beautiful. To him, she was a living, golden goddess from her long, wavy hair to the butterflies on her boots.
He watched her walk the mare away. When she was lost from view, he leapt up, went to his own horse, and followed.
Rebel turned his head and signaled Dayan's approach with a low whine.
Romelle twisted in her saddle.
They smiled at each other with intimate understanding.
He kneed his horse to a lively canter. She followed in his wake. Rebel raced ahead.
A hint of red was coloring the sky over the eastern escarpment wall when they reached a barricade of a dozen huge boulders. Dayan rode to the far end of the row and dismounted. He was ready with his hand when she joined him.
They walked around the last boulder. Before them spread a meadow rife with golden poppies. He squeezed her hand as a zephyr breezed from the west, bending the poppies eastward as if their petaled faces also looked toward the rising sun, as did Dayan's and Romelle's.
The sun appeared, dispelling the morning mist with a flood of warm light rapidly transmuted from red to pink to gold. It flooded their thoughts as well, with the memory of Philo Duncan. Romelle realized that beside her stood the man Philo had once promised to save her for. Dayan remembered swearing to Philo aboard the Thistle as they approached the Crimea long ago that he would never marry. It was an oath he could no longer keep. They knew without speaking what this day was destined to be.
Dash was waiting when they rode back to the compound.
"You do not live alone in this world," he said gently. "Not only I saw both of you go. The Empress was at her window. Bart was coming back from his lab."
They followed him into his yurt.
When they entered, they found Bart, the Empress, Brad, and Damba assembled there. Tapers in standing candelabra filled the shadows that remained untouched by the sunlight streaming through the open smoke hatch in the roof.
"Doctor Dash has told us of Prince Dayan's intent," said Eugénie. "Is it also yours, Romelle?"
She nodded, still too separated from the world to speak.
"Then it is good, my dear child," murmured Eugénie, her lower lip trembling with emotion.
While Dash covered a small table with a scarf of white silk, Bart draped Romelle in a magnificent cloth-of-gold cape embroidered with poppies.
Brad gave her a nosegay of wood violets he had picked from Bart's garden. She kissed him and held the nosegay tenderly in her hands.
Eugénie stepped forward carrying a bejewelled coronet.
"A gift from the Tsar and Tsaritsa," she said. "I delayed in giving it to you because, like the earrings when you were sixteen, my intuition told me I should wait."
She crowned Romelle as Dash set a silver bowl upon the table.
Dayan knelt to face his father.
"Please remain standing, Romelle," requested Bart, "as do the others. That is our tradition." Rebel took his place at her knee..
"It is the twenty-fifth of August, a most propitious day in the lives of these two hearts who are united in love," Dash intoned. "On this day were the bride's parents joined in matrimony in the Holy Chapel of Saint Louis, whose day this is, as well. On this day were both these young people born, thirteen years apart. On this day they first met, twenty-two years ago. And now circumstances have combined miraculously to make it their wedding day, a day on which they will celebrate their union for the rest of their lives. No human planning could have brought it all to pass. Thus, I adjudge this to be a marriage by divine intent."
Dash passed the silver bowl to Damba. It contained a liquid the color of golden poppies.
Damba offered it to Brad with the words, "As spiritual brother of the groom, I give this bowl to you, the spiritual brother of the bride."
Brad accepted the bowl, offering it in turn to Romelle with the words, "Please sip this mixture of milk and butter as a symbol of welcome into your new husband's home, where nourishment will always be provided."
Romelle took the bowl and sipped.
Dash extended his hands to her. She placed the bowl on his palms.
With the bowl held aloft, Dash asked, "Who witnesses this marriage?"
"I do," answered Eugénie.
"I do," echoed Bart.
Dash placed the bowl on the table.
"It is my duty to inform you of ancient Mongol law," he said. "It is the privilege of the bride to declare a divorce after the first three days of marriage if the groom displeases her in any way."
He looked at Romelle. "Knowing this, do you marry with an open heart?"
"Oh, yes, I do," she replied, her face radiant.
"And you, my son?"
"I do," answered Dayan, looking at Romelle tenderly.
"May you be blessed with happiness, and children," Dash smiled through his tears. "In the name of the one God governing all, I pronounce you husband and wife."
Dayan stood. Trembling, he took Romelle into his arms for the wedding kiss.
"This is the happiest moment of my life," he murmured. "Happy birthday, little golden poppy."
Tears of joy filled Romelle's eyes as she snuggled into his embrace. "The happiest of my life. Happy birthday to you, my love."
"Congratulations, Princess," smiled Eugénie, giving her a hug.
Romelle looked at the Empress in surprise. "Princess? Oh, my, I guess I am!"
Damba pulled aside the door flap. "Please come out."
The newlyweds stepped outside. The others followed.
The troops, who had assembled quietly during the ceremony, gave a tumultuous shout. They cheered on and on, firing their weapons into the air.
The cooks had hastily prepared a wedding breakfast.
Over coffee, the Empress expressed her delight. "Dragon's Heart has come to mean love. When I was carried down the escarpment trail and saw that lovely little red flower blooming everywhere, I could not have dreamed what joys lay in wait for me here. The words "Dragon's Heart" have too often brought tragedy to us in the past. Now, that is done. We can all turn to the future, facing forward in life, as we should.
"Which brings me to certain matters at hand, my dears. Doctor Dash, could you draw up documents to use for legal purposes in the West? I would like my godson and goddaughter's marriage registered in France, England, and the United States due to the complexities of Captain Duncan's estate."
"Of course, Your Imperial Highness," he smiled. "I shall be happy to do so."
Dayan nodded his understanding. "You are right, Majesty. As a senior head of our clan since my father went into holy service, I represent large land holdings and great wealth in horses, the currency of our nation. Romelle and any children we might have must be protected under international law if ought should happen to me. I think it best that Romy and I, when we go to Europe, remarry there in a Western religious ceremony, and perhaps in a civil ceremony, as well."
"Oh, I'm so glad you agree, Prince Dayan!" Eugénie declared with an air of relief. "It is a wise decision. What do you think, Princess?"
Romelle appeared flustered. "It's fine, but...will I ever get used to being a princess?"
"First, you must get used to being a wife!" the Empress smiled. "What plans have you for a honeymoon, Prince Dayan? And please don't consider my presence here an impediment. I shall be quite busy. My litter bearers have promised to carry me up to see the Golden City. The ride will be thrilling! I'm not afraid of it now. Rebel will come with me everywhere, just like my Lion-heart at home. Doctor Dash insists I spend some time at the temple. I'm anxious to browse in the Marco Polo Library, and I must visit the statue of Lady Tara for a blessing from the Seventh Eye."
Dayan rested his hand on Romelle's. "What would you like to do, golden poppy? Soon, I must take the Empress back to Urga and the frontier. When she leaves, we'll be at war again. This may be our only time together for a long while."
The seriousness of this reality settled over them like a pall until Romelle broke the spell with a cheerful cry.
"Aha, I have it!"
She lay her head on Dayan's shoulder. "I want my own yurt, white and new, fragrant with fresh-cut willow wands to support the walls. I want sables spread everywhere, and a cooking pot under the smoke hatch, and tiny lambs outside wearing ribbons and bells, and...and I want it placed in our meadow. I want to live among the poppies and watch the sun rise and set, and the moon, with you at my side. If for no more than a week, my love, I want to be a Mongol bride. Let that be your gift to me. Let that be our honeymoon. I shall remember it all of my days."
Dayan's eyes glistened with tears. "This I can give you, along with my heart."
Joyfully, that week they plumbed the depths of each other as only lovers can. They gamboled with the lambs through the meadow of golden poppies. They bathed in a natural lava basin hewn by a hot-water spring gushing from the escarpment wall. They ate simply, and spent afternoons exploring thickets and glades.
Every evening, they watched the sunset, then nestled together under the stars in white linen robes lined with soft fleece. They gave love to each other in moonlight or by firelight, depending on the warmth or coolness of the night. They gave to each other wholly, without stinting.
By week's end, their souls were bound together for all time.
At the compound the last morning, Romelle begged to go with them to the frontier. It took all of Eugénie's powers of persuasion to dissuade her.
"You must be sensible, dear. If you were coming all the way back with me to Europe, it would be different."
"No," said Romelle, "that is not what I want. I wish to be near my husband, or where he can come to me."
"Then you must stay. My departure ends the truce. Dayan is a general. He must go with his troops, no matter the price to be paid. Do not forget that I have been through this with my husband. It was a time of great despair for me, and, ultimately, we lost. But I was there when he needed me, and so must you be."
Convinced, but unhappy, Romelle bade Dayan farewell after the others passed through the gate.
"Let me ride with you to the escarpment," she pled.
"No, it will only be more difficult to say goodbye," he countered. "My departure this time is not like the last. We belong to each other now. Our souls are one. When you lie abed at night, my spirit will fly to you. You will feel my touch. You will feel all that I have become to you. I will consume you with love, and then you will sleep. In your dreams, you will find me, too." He pulled her to him. She felt the heat of his body, the palpitations of his heart.
"That is what you will feel," he whispered.
After a long, lingering kiss, he stood away from her. She could not let go of his hand. Gently he separated himself from her, mounted his horse, and rode away.
Outside the gate, he turned his head for one last look. His lips formed the words, I love you, before he galloped away.
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