Tlacotzin stretched on the mat. The sunlight entering the room through a small window and penetrating through the curtain woke him from his slumber. He sat up and looked around: solid brick walls and a roof with no holes. Until a few days ago, he didn't think that he would be able to sleep in such a well-made room. Until now, the only thing he had was a lousy wooden hut that hadn't protected him from the cold.
He got up and went outside. He looked at the colourful square that was next to his room. There were many flowers and a ritual censer in the middle. An iron-bar ceiling covered the square, and a guard stood at the door. He couldn't blame anyone for this; after all, it was a ritual prison. But he didn't feel trapped in any way. He could go out at any time. He wasn't a criminal, just someone who had an unknown role in the upcoming Xochi Huetzi. He often wondered what the Flower Prince could want from such a simple musician as him, but he couldn't guess.
He went to the guard and said:
"Good morning."
"Good morning, Tlacotzin."
The guard opened the gate and let him through. His presence was simply symbolic. The young man wasn't going to run, nor did he have a reason to.
He went to the dining room, where he had breakfast along with other low-ranking temple workers. He could eat to his full in a warm and pleasant atmosphere.
Later, it was time for work. He no longer had to worry about how to survive the next day. He had a steady job as a temple assistant and a chance of promotion after the Xochi Huetzi. After a year filled with emptiness, cold, and suffering, he felt he was no longer surviving but living.
***
It was time to collect flowers for rituals. He was accompanied by girls: Meya, Nenetzi, Xilonen, and Izel. He wouldn't even dare to ask for one of those girls. Let alone four. They listened to his music and danced to it at every opportunity. They themselves resembled whirls of flowers and butterflies dancing in the air. He really wouldn't dare to ask for something so great.
Right now, he listened to Izel.
"Tlacotzin, we offer only the best to the gods. This also applies to flowers."
She started pointing at dahlias.
"This one won't do. It's already started losing its petals. This one hasn't fully bloomed yet, so it's not ready."
Now, it was Tlacotzin who pointed out one of the dahlias in the garden.
"This one's perfect. Fully bloomed, with firm, soft, and full of life petals."
Izel smiled at him, admitting that he was right. Then he cut the flower.
"I got something firm, soft, and well grown too."
It was Xilonen who spoke. She leaned forward, and when her breasts were close to his face, she gave them a playful shake. He blushed and moved his basket to cover the growing bulge on his maxtlatl. She was very… open. As a man, he couldn't help but appreciate it… The floral scent coming from her filled his nose, making him blush even more.
"Xilonen, we have a job to do. We won't finish it because of you!"
Izel said that while chasing her friend away. Watching their interactions was like balm for a wounded heart. All the wounds his heart had suffered were healed by these wonderful girls.
"No one forbade us from joking."
"Xilonen!"
Tlacotzin cut one of the dahlias and put it in Izel's hair.
"Izel, Xilonen has a point. This garden belongs to the Flower Prince, the patron of joy. Showing him our joy is like a prayer."
Izel blushed and smiled.
"You're right, one mischief or two won't hurt, but we need to do our job."
"What about me?" Xilonen said.
"Xilonen, those flowers match you."
Tlacotzin pointed to red hibiscuses growing a little farther away. Then, Meya and Nenetzi passed by, carrying flowers.
"Yes, Xilonen is definitely like a hibiscus."
"A red, wide-open hibiscus."
Izel gave her friend a challenging look.
"If you're not careful, Tlazolteotl will choose a certain red hibiscus for her sacrifice."
All five of them laughed.
***
Cuathli stood at a distance from them. He watched these youngsters having fun. He had a sense of well-done duty. Tlacotzin had found his place. The man still didn't know what Xochipilli wanted from the musician, but it was certainly nothing terrible. He imagined a ceremony in which the girls danced to recited poetic prayers and music played by Tlacotzin. Such a ceremony, enriched by their mutual love and joy, would be a wonderful gift for the Flower Prince. Art, dance, music, and, above all, love. There was everything his divine patron loved.