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Saaya carefully strapped the sword that Proxy had delivered earlier to her back with a silk sash and once it was secure, finished tossing a few things into a worn leather backpack. She hooked her mother's pendant around her neck for good luck, gasping it tightly as she took a deep breath, and sheathed her own sword at her hip.
"Saaya?"
She startled at the sound, and turned to see Jem standing in her doorway. "Oh, sorry," Jem apologized, "didn't mean to give you a shock. I just wanted to talk to you about these events for a moment." Jem's eyes then moved from Saaya to the backpack, to the shining sword hilt showing over her left shoulder. "But it looks like you have plans to be somewhere," she commented.
"I..." Saaya hesitated. Damn! This isn't good! "I..." She sighed and decided there was no getting around full honesty. Jem was an expert at seeing the truth in things, and she doubted she'd be able to lie successfully. "I'm meeting someone," she nearly whispered, and pled with her eyes for Jem not to ask more. No luck.
"Someone?" Jem's eyebrows went up. "Someone... who?"
"That's the thing," Saaya began, "I don't... exactly... know..." She shifted her gaze to the side and fidgeted, eager to get out of this mess.
"Spill it," Jem insisted as she grabbed Saaya by the arm and dragged her to the chairs nearby.
Saaya explained quickly but in as much detail as she dared, in the hopes of satisfying Jem's curiosity. The mystery gifts. The letters. Her own promise to meet him today in Nagrand. Jem's eyes seemed to grow wider over the course of the story. "Saaya..." she started, but was interrupted.
"SHHHH! I know! I just have to do this, ok? I'll be careful. And DON'T tell anyone where I've gone! Promise me!!!" Please, please please, Saaya begged in tone and with her thoughts.
Jem said nothing more but made a gesture at her mouth that indicated the secret was safe with her. She simply watched in silence as Saaya picked up her things and darted out of the office with haste.
*****
The air was hot and Saaya was grateful for the breeze as she flew. The floating island she'd described to her Admirer in her note was coming into view, and she began to grow more nervous. As she lit on the soft grass and dismounted, she was grateful it seemed she was the first to arrive. She dismissed her wind rider and sat her things down next to the base of the one large tree that occupied almost the entire bit of land as it hovered, magically, in the sky. Peeking over the edge of the island gave a view of the shining, clear water below. She couldn't count the times she'd come here to dive in that water, only to fly up and start over again. It was a relaxing experience. Nagrand was usually quiet, and she'd never seen anyone else come to this particular spot. It was only ever her and her thoughts, diving, swimming, climbing through the air, and diving again. It was meditation for her.
Then she heard something: the unmistakable sound of wind rider wings fighting against the air as one landed--those silly animals never were too skilled at a graceful landing! She turned to see a man now standing there, an unruly wind rider at his side, and suddenly the panic was a metallic taste in her mouth; she forgot how to breathe. "Hello, Saaya," he said as he dismissed his mount. His voice was soft, but husky and deep. It was familiar and strange at once. His golden hair was pulled back and tied behind him, save one piece that drifted forward over his shoulder and rested on the strap of his pack. This last he unshouldered and placed on the ground next to hers before stepping forward to take her hand. "I'm very glad you replied," he said, smiling a bit, but noticed she appeared petrified. Her gaze lead to the scar; unconsciously, he brushed it with one hand as if he wished to erase it. "Please, sit," he requested, and did so himself.
Remaining mute, Saaya did as he asked and knelt in the grass, under the shade of the tree. She watched as he unfolded a small, blue and white checkered cloth and placed in between them and as he withdrew wine, bread and cheese from his pack. He glanced at her from time to time, as if to make sure she were actually, truly here. Although to Saaya he appeared calm and unaffected, internally his thoughts and his stomach fluttered; he only managed to contain his anxiety with great effort, as not to increase hers. He offered her a glass of wine and slices of bread and cheese, which she took and managed a whispered, "Thank you," at last. At this he grinned and raised his own glass in her direction before taking a sip.
As she nibbled the bread, she found that not only was it delicious but she was famished, and she began to eat as eagerly as she dared without forgetting her manners. The wine was sweet and fragrant, and though it made her head spin a bit, she felt herself relaxing. As they ate, he posed her small questions: Where did she grow up? Was her family nearby? Did she have siblings? How did she pass her time outside of work? He spoke little of himself but she barely noticed, it was easy to answer what he asked and soon they were chatting fairly freely.
Too soon, the light was growing dim, and he looked up to see the sun meeting the horizon, turning the sky a hundred shades of purple and pink. "I have something for you," he said suddenly, turning back to her, and reached for his pack once more. Curious (and tipsy-ish!), no longer nervous, she peered in the dim light and saw he held a rose. Just one, but perfect in its simplicity, and not at all lonely in its singularity. "This was made for you," he said unpretentiously, and placed it in her hand, covering it then with his own. "This was made for you to remember me, even when I'm not here beside you. Perhaps it's a bit arrogant to assume that in one meeting you'd agree to accept such a token, but still I have it to give if you will take it."
On inspection, it was indeed not just any flower. It appeared alive, but was clearly not of nature. There was an inscription: 
[Saaya's Bloom of Love]
"Thank you," she breathed, "it's beautiful!" She looked up at him, into his kind eyes, and knew it had been no mistake to chance this meeting. She reached out tentatively and touched the scar on his cheek. Though worry passed over his eyes for a moment, he did not recoil. Without a word she pulled away and he feared she meant to go, but instead she reached for something near the tree, wrapped in red silk, and shining in the rising moonlight. "This, now, was made for you," she said, and could not hide a grin. She laid the object in his open hands: a sword, and clearly one of impeccable craftsmanship. He gently unwrapped the silk from the weapon and placed it over his leg. The blade shone as he grasped the hilt. The sword was light, but he felt its strength; as he held it up he saw etching on the handguard: 
[Blade of Love]
"Keep this too," she said, taking the silk and placing it once again in his hand. "It's been mine forever, and is a better thing to give of myself, perhaps, than something metallic and cold."
"Both are more than enough," he corrected. He slid the sword between his hip and his belt and took both of her hands in his. His grip was firm but not painful; he too couldn't think of parting but knew they couldn't stay just so, forever. She closed her eyes and let her head drop, thinking of what to say or do next. Before she could decide, deftly he placed one hand under her chin, compelling her to look again. Wordlessly, he kissed her; though stunned, she allowed it gratefully. Neither counted the time that passed, and neither wanted it to end, but finally he released her and whispered, "Now, go... it's late, and you'll be missed. I'll send for you again soon enough. Go," he said, chuckling lightly at her disappointed expression, "before I change my mind and keep you for myself!"
Disinclined to obey, but knowing he was right, she hugged him tightly once more before grabbing her bag, calling her mount, and riding off in the direction of the glowing moons. She didn't dare look back, the urge to return might be too great. Instead she kept her gaze forward and thought, daydreamily, of his kiss. The memory would have to be enough for now.
Saaya's Admirer sighed, a mix of longing and loss. He reached again for the sword she'd given him. The resemblance was uncanny; in fact he'd swear it was the twin of the one he'd received just earlier that day. As a gift to her longtime friend and to re-welcome him in her life and in her work, Ysabel had also given him a sword. The handguard of this one was also etched in a delicate script, different words, but still important and dear to him: [Blade of Loyalty]
I must see her again, he thought of Saaya and knew that he would honor the promise to himself. After packing his things--including the red silk, which he tucked carefully inside his shirt--he called his rider, mounted up, and rode off into the night.