War Bringer by Elaine Levine

her staying a virgin until she found her forever man. In her teen years, Fiona had thought her mom was outrageously old-fashioned. But then things had just worked out that she never considered being intimate with anyone until she met Danny in her sophomore year at the university.  
    They didn’t date, though he wanted to. He was cute and funny. With him, she was leaning toward giving in to her curiosity about sex, but all that ended the week both he and her mom had died in separate traffic accidents.  
    After that, staying a virgin felt like a connection to her mom that she didn’t want to break. Now, she was glad she waited. Having Kelan as her first lover would be a gift to herself that she would carry with her always.  
    Of course, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about their first time. She hoped it wouldn’t be awkward. She shouldn’t have listened to her friends’ stories of their first times.  
    The thing that really made her edgy was the claiming ceremony Kelan kept mentioning. It was a big deal to him, yet she had no idea what it was or what to expect from it. She’d even Googled it, but couldn’t find anything that sounded like what Kelan had mentioned.
    Fiona used one of the private toilets. When she washed her hands, she was still preoccupied with her thoughts. Would Kelan find her attractive? Would he change his mind about her being his other half—his Mahasani?
    She lifted her eyes to the mirror and gasped. The face staring back at her was hideous. She touched her wet fingers to her cheek, smearing the heavy makeup. What was this? She never did her face like this, with thick foundation that was too pale, pink cheeks that looked like they might glow, globs of mascara, brows too dark for her complexion, and red lipstick that colored the skin around her lips.
    She bent over the sink and started to wash it off, then took another look at herself. It hadn’t budged. Oh, God. Kelan had seen her like this. She looked hellish, like a made-up zombie.  
    She grabbed a bar of soap and a washcloth and started scrubbing at her face. The soap stung her eyes. Now, not only was the heavy stuff mushed around her face, but her eyes were red-rimmed, too.  
    She glanced at the door, glad that she had closed it…but it wasn’t closed anymore. Kelan stood there, a horrified look on his face.
    Fiona hid behind the washcloth and cried. “I can’t get it off.”
    He hurried over to her and pulled her away from the mirror, holding her while she cried. “I shouldn’t have let you come in here like this. Alone.”
    “What did they do to me? My hair. My face. My clothes.”
    “I think they wanted you to be seen by the crowd.”
    “I look like a corpse.”
    He chuckled at that, which helped ease her chest a little. “Yeah. But it’s not permanent.”
    “The soap isn’t getting it off.”
    “No. You need an oil of some sort.” He started to poke through the cabinets and drawers. She peeked at him over the cloth.  
    “How do you know about stuff like this?”
    He held up a jar of coconut oil and smiled at her. “Because I’ve worn face paint a time or two. For ceremonies.” He pushed her hands down and tilted her face up. “Close your eyes.”
    When she complied, he scooped some of the coconut oil out and held it to her forehead, waiting for the heat of her skin and his fingers to melt it enough that he could smooth it around her brows, her eyes, her lips. His touch was so soothing, she felt herself begin to relax just a little.
    He took her washcloth and held it under the warm tap, then gently wiped the hellish goop away. “Now look.”
    She sent him a worried glance then faced the mirror. She was herself again. She looked up at him standing behind her in the mirror, so dark with his silky black hair and dark, solemn eyes. He watched her tensely.  
    She smiled at him. “You worked a miracle.” She held up a lock of her artificially long hair. “What about this?”
    “If there are