Night fell over Alburkhan. 

Old Scorian legends spoke of a stallion that galloped across the sky to drape the world in a curtain as dark as Scorian brew—it was the only explanation for the speed with which the sun set. While Alex, Lana, Sahabi, and the other dancers swirled and leapt to the beats of the mehterani, servants carrying long iron sticks lightened the garlands of ornamental hanging lanterns above their heads.

Sebastian took a forkful of cake, sweet yet spicy. Except for a few bite-sized nibbles, he had seen little opportunity to eat. Greenlander Lords and Ladies were notorious for claiming his attention, but the queue of Scorian nobles congratulating him had far exceeded anything he had experienced back home. Those that hadn't kissed his boots offered well-intentioned though quickly repetitive and irritating advice. Of course, he would treat his wife like a princess. Of course, he was aware that Scorian women could do anything a man could—he had grown up alongside Alex and Lana. Of course, he would remember all the Scorians were doing for him.

The memory clenched his jaws. He finished the cake to the last crumb, then returned the plate to the servant guarding the half-eaten tower of sweetness. The Alafin and a Wafarian nobleman with a purple turban were discussing improved irrigation techniques on olive trees. Jhara stood by and nodded at regular intervals; she was smiling, though her eyes dulled mid-conversation.

Sebastian walked up to her and whispered, "I've come to rescue you."

He raised his eyebrows as she glanced at him, confused.

"Gentlemen, I must excuse you," Jhara said stately. She then followed Sebastian for a few steps before facing him and saying, "What?"

"You looked as though you were falling asleep instead of listening to those two men."

"I wasn't. I'm very interested in..." She pursed her lips in thought before stammering. "... Wa... Wafarian... m... matters."

He chuckled. "Very interested, indeed."

"Fine, but I was not in distress. I didn't need to be rescued." She pushed her tiara back, then crossed her arms in front of her body. The ruby dangled against her forehead.

Sebastian didn't know how to respond to her sudden defensiveness. He fidgeted with his fingers behind his back. Had she caught him staring at the dancers, thinking he was ogling Alex? 

"I apologise if I have upset you," he said.

"You didn't."

Her eyes left him. She was playing with the silver bracelet around her wrist.

"Do you—" they said simultaneously. 

He beckoned her to speak, but so did she. Just as he feared this would go on for a while, she blew out a noisy breath and said, "Do you wish to have more wine?"

"Actually, I wanted to propose we dance."

"Oh." She gaped at the dancers, still spinning her bracelet. "Don't you think it's too soon?"

"Too soon? In The Greenlands, people wouldn't have dared to tap their feet until you and I had danced the first dance. By now, we would have been surrounded in our chamber by a dozen gawking noblemen and women witnessing us consummate the marriage."

"Goddess of Kindness, that barbaric practice has long been abolished here. Another reason Scoria reigns supreme."

Sebastian shrugged. "Well, we have the largest military power. You'll have to forgive our occasional eccentricity."

"Largest army," Jhara mused. "Yet you come to us for aid."

"Because we acknowledge your technological superiority, Sayida Jhara, Princess of Scoria." He offered his arm to her. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

She sucked her cheeks in, then darted a look at her mother, who gesticulated at the servant guarding the cake.

The man informed a woman in red, who hurried towards another woman. A few heartbeats later, the mehterani received instructions from a fourth servant, and the music faded.

Pirates whistled disapprovingly, their behaviour riling up the younger Scorians too. The shouts of protest disappeared instantly as Sahabi and Alex ordered the men and women to move aside. "Hurry. Make room for Princess Jhara and Prince Sebastian."

Jhara hooked her arm in Sebastian's as the guests created a corridor of people leading to the patch of grass. He fixated his gaze on the palm trees as his steps followed the rhythm of the drum. He didn't have to overthink; his army years had drilled that practice into his muscles' memory.

The flutes and the sitars had joined the drums, the beat slow. 

All eyes were on them.

Jhara laid her hand on his shoulder. He reached for her back, then grabbed her hand. Her movements were gentle and gracious as she took the lead, preventing him from quickening his step when the rhythm didn't ask for it. Oh, what a blessing that Aunt Crystal and Lady Victoria weren't here to see him ruining their efforts to teach him the noble dances.

He shuffled back and forth as the sitar player sang,

"I met a girl in spring with flowers in her hair, and I declared her my love.
I saw my love in summer with sunlight in her hair, and I declared her my bride.
I kissed my bride in autumn with leaves fall'n on her hair, and I declared her my wife.
I loved my wife in winter with moonglow in her hair, and pray that in the heavens,
I find her again with flowers in her hair."

Jhara leant closer to him. "Your cousin informed me your Greenlander waltz isn't half bad. I took a few liberties with the song."

The music shifted to triple time but kept the same melody. Though the grass made it hard to slide, Sebastian felt more at ease with the kind of footwork than the awkward shambling of the slow dance. Sahabi picked out a young Scorian nobleman, and David brought Lana to the grass as well. A few others joined, when, suddenly, the white-haired Captain and Alex emerged next to him. She was faltering, so he had to hold her close. Whenever he spoke, she giggled. A victim of the peach wine.

Jhara touched his cheek, jerking him back to her. "Don't gawk like that. Did nobody tell you it's rude?"

"I'm sorry."

She hummed in disapproval. 

"Perhaps, after this song, we should retreat," he suggested. He found himself leading her. One-two-three. One-two-tree. Swing around. Bumblebee. He could hear Lady Victoria repeating the steps.

"Retreat as in..."

"Go to your chamber." He twitched his eyebrows. Consummating the marriage was the part of the wedding he looked forward to the most. At last, he would lie with a woman, and be able to brag to his fellow Lieutenants the next time they saw each other. A man both in age, military accomplishments, and the bedroom.

Jhara showed no emotion as she nodded. "It's what's expected of us, isn't it?"

"They'll talk for sure. So how do we do this—I scoop you up and carry you inside?"

She glowered, making a rare mistake by stepping on his toes. "Do that, and it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."

"You'll carve me open?" he joked.

"I'll have Dana do the dirty work for me."

"If not burnt in a magician's blaze, I'll die by a tiger's bite—I'm not sure which is more painful."

"Definitely Dana, he likes to chew." She was in the lead once more.

The tension between them ebbed and flowed like the Jade Sea. As long as humour could turn the tide, they were alright. The God of Patience would take care of the rest. 

Or so he hoped.

When the song ended, they bowed to the applauding crowd before taking their leave, hand in hand. The tiger padded beside them as Jhara's loyal feline guard.

Once inside the palace, Jhara squirmed out of his grip. Here, she didn't have to pretend that matters between them were not as comfortable as the leaders of their respective countries wished them to be. She let him wait by a storage room, then returned with a deep green bottle. The label showed a hooded snake, black as a moonless night.

"Poison," he said. "You realised Dana chewing me to death isn't painful for you, so you want to kill me with snake poison."

"It's venom," she said, not hiding her annoyance.

"Yeah, and the Greenlander apple is green, and the Silvermarker is red. They're still apples."

"Think again. A poisonous creature kills you when you eat it, whereas a venomous creature kills you as it eats you. I would never give you poison, but the fermented venom used in this snake wine is exquisite. You'll never drink anything like this."

"So why wasn't it served at the feast?"

"Your pirate friends are already wild enough," she said.

Jhara's chamber was red with orange murals on the wall, the style from centuries ago but the volcanoes, tigers, and horses as bright as though they had been painted yesterday. Dana leapt onto the divan by the standing mirror. In the middle of the room stood a fourposter bed, thin red lace concealing the mattress and pillows.

"You have a private cave," he said.

Jhara took two miniature glasses from a drawer, then set them and the bottle on a small table by the bed. She poured the green liquid into the glasses, then gave him one. "What else did you expect—a hammock?"

"No, it's just that." He wasn't going to mention yet that he hadn't slept in a bed since he was a boy. "Forget it, it's not important."

"Taste it." She beckoned him.

"You first."

She rolled her eyes. "You're serious about this."

"Yeah, I never drink or eat anything unless someone else has tasted it—comes with being the only heir of a powerful kingdom."

"The only heir that isn't a bastard and a sorcerer, or a woman."

"As I said, the only heir," he snapped.

"That was uncalled for—I apologise. I meant nothing by it," she said.

"So why say it?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because you and I wouldn't have wedded if Princess Alana were heir, or if your half-brother were your full brother and no demonic sorcerer. Then, you and I would be dancing at a feast in Sunstone Castle, honouring our siblings or cousin. I wouldn't be—" She cut the sentence short to tilt her head backwards, then downed the drink in one gulp. Her eyes turned big as she shuddered. "Gods, this is revolting."

Sebastian peered into the glass. He sniffed, but the wine had no peculiar odour. "What, you've never had it before?"

"I've only seen Abah drink it—borrowed it from his secret stash."

Not so secret, after all. Sebastian took a careful sip. Sweet, then came a hoppier aftertaste, like a dark beer fresh from a tavern's tap. He drank the rest. "I like it."

"I don't," she said, but that didn't prevent her from pouring her glass full again.

He pushed her glass next to hers, so she refilled his too. They clinked to their wedding night and downed the liquid. Biting her lip, she gazed at him. He stared back at her.

Far away, in the garden, two different rhythms danced around the typical Scorian melody of flutes. A third instrument joined the song: a timid shaking of the tambourine.

Jhara murmured something. Next thing he knew, she had removed her tiara, and her long black hair swooped down elegantly just past her shoulder. She turned her back to him. "Go ahead, undress me."

His cheeks grew hot. Whether from the nerves or the snake wine, he couldn't tell. There was a buzzing in his ears as his vision blurred, making it harder to find the white buttons on the white fabric. His fingers fumbled over the knots.

"You want more wine?" she asked.

"No." He could hear himself talk like someone was echoing his words back to him.

She set the bottle to her lips.

"Why do you keep drinking if you don't like the taste?"

She didn't answer, or if she did, he didn't hear it. Her wedding dress dropped to the floor, and she faced him. She wore but a gold bra in the shape of a butterfly and a short, equally golden underskirt adorned with pearls and diamonds. As with a snap of her fingers, an ochre veil draped her legs. Her hips already swayed to the music, as she kicked off her heels.

"You told me you wished to see belly dancers at our wedding. You'll see but one, but she'll be just for you."

She danced like a snake, mesmerising and alluring him with those sensuous movements. Her body twisted in ways he did not think was humanly possible, and when she looked at him, her eyes were so intoxicating, he would drown in them if that were possible. Whenever she touched him, teasingly yet determinedly, he forgot all time and space. Who cared if a tiger was napping a good ten feet from him when Jhara was in the room.

She shook her bosom as the drums rattled in a high in pitch. The ruby on her forehead didn't budge. Gods, he wanted to touch her, feel her skin beneath his fingers. The Goddess of Lust had him under Her spell, but it couldn't be Lust now that he and Jhara were husband and wife; he wasn't committing any sin.

He unbuttoned his jacket and threw it behind him, not paying any attention to where it landed. Mimicking her motions, he moved up to her, wanting her to take off his shirt so he could press his bare skin to hers while kissing her to oblivion.

To his surprise, she ducked underneath him. She reached for the bottle of snake wine, took a swig, then offered him some. He was already drowsy enough; he'd get drunk on her instead.

He pulled her towards him, his hands gliding down her back.

She stiffened.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

There was a grimace on her face.

He took a step away from her. The flutes and the drums still played in the background. "Did I ruin your performance?"

"It's fine." She jiggled her hips as she, once more, reached for the bottle.

Before she could take another swing, he lurched forwards. Despite his feet moving quicker than his hands, taking the bottle from her was easy.

She pouted. "Sebastian, I'm thirsty."

"No, you had enough. I barely fathom anymore what I'm doing, and I had less than half of what you had."

"You're jealous because your weak, Greenlander stomach can't take it."

"I'm over a foot taller, and easily fifty pounds heavier. Jhara, I know what you're doing—you're trying to dull your senses."

"But I have to. Otherwise, I'm not sure if I—"

"If you—what?"

She scratched her forearms until she found her bracelet and began to fidget. "I don't know if I can do my duty as your wife."

"There's nothing to be afraid about. It's not like my cannon will invade your castle." He frowned, cringing at his description. "Forget I said that—that was the wine speaking."

Instead of smiling, there were tears in her eyes. "I'm not scared. I just... everything about this is foreign, alien. I feel not at home in my own chamber, like nothing is the same anymore since you arrived. My duty tells me to love you, but I can't, and then you say you won't, and then you said you wanted to be my friend, but how can we be friends if I barely know you, and..." She shook her head. "Gods, I don't know what I'm saying anymore."

As she wobbled on her feet, he supported her back. He guided her towards the bed and helped her sit down. "I don't want to sleep with a woman who's high on fermented snake venom—doesn't seem right. I doubt there's a Scorian law that dictates the marriage should be consummated today. You're my wife, not my possession."

"You must be so disappointed in me." She banged her wrist against her forehead, hiding her face.

He breathed in deeply, his eyes landing on her bosom before looking at her. "Yeah, I would be lying if I said I wasn't. But that's not your problem."

"But it is. I should ask Abah to find you a good concubine—it's my duty."

"Please, don't. I'll wait until you are ready to have me."

"But what if that never happens?"

Sebastian ground his teeth. They couldn't annul their marriage. The political alliance between their countries was too important to fall. Moreover, he needed to produce an heir. Without a son, the Greenlander royal family would perish with him. But that was no reason to force himself onto her—the Goddess of Lust would smite him for all eternity if he did.

"I don't know," he said.

She stared at her lap, scratching her arm. Black tears rolled down her cheeks, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. "This is so embarrassing."

"I doubt you're the first wife in history to turn her husband down on their wedding night. We all have our preferences and quirks, some more humiliating than others."

She sniffed. "Like mentioning a female friend during a wedding ceremony."

"Or be wildly unprepared for today, even though a beautiful woman gave him the necessary instructions prior to the wedding."

She lowered her hands, hiccuped, and swallowed. "And cursed him for being a backwoods baboon."

"Backwoods baboon—sounds just like an apt description." He waited for a reaction, then said, "I grew up near the forest of Lane—climbed more trees than I have fingers to count them on. The beds were hard, and the water was cold, but I was the luckiest and the happiest boy in the world."

"And Boyar Alex was there with you," she mused. "I've heard the tales of your hardship, of your courage and persistence, and how the Gods failed you when you needed them most. In Scoria, we believe that one must fight the Seven Sins to find the Seven Virtues. It's why we have Fourteen Gods and not Seven."

"Which is why we sometimes act like backwoods baboons."

There came a brief smile. She decided to lie down. As he got up to retreat to his own chamber, she said, "Stay. Sit with me."

He crawled through the veil and entered a sleeping area that resembled a bigger version of the forts he built at home on his window sill. The mattress was hard, the pillows plentiful, and in all sizes. He sat at the foot of the bed, cross-legged.

"It saddened me when you told me a few days ago that you didn't know if you could ever love me. I understand your answer now, and I'm finally beginning to understand your vows. And what Boyar Alex means to you. I agree—let's try to be friends first, and then we'll talk about love."

"I would like that very much."

Though Jhara fell asleep soon after, sleep did not come for him. While in the garden, the mehterani played a song for each of the stars, his wife breathed in and out, stirring when Dana purred and yawned. The guests sang and danced until deep in the night. Let them enjoy the feast. He was enjoying the solitude of the night, the peace inside his mind as the weight of expectations ebbed away.

When the music stopped and the voices slowly faded, Sebastian finally nodded off. 

He was strolling alongside the River Faith, all alone, with a bow and quiver on his back and a dagger hanging from his belt. Laneby rose behind the trees as though it had never been destroyed. Water splashed up as children jumped into the stream, giggling as they swam away from each other. 

A sudden breeze spun the blades of the windmill. They turned and turned, faster and faster as dark mist chased away the sheep-like clouds floating in the sky. 

Lightning sizzled and snapped, then struck the tavern. Wood burnt as men and women fled to the river. Children cried.

Sebastian ran into the water. "Get to the other shore—run!"

When a little girl threatened to go under, he grabbed her and tossed her into the reeds. As he swam towards Laneby, the mist turned into a wall of smoke. Breathing hurt, but he had to go on. He had to save Father—this time he wouldn't be too late.

He clambered ashore, through the ashes and the fire, on his bare feet, all arrows disappeared from his quiver. The tavern was gone. The barn gone. Houses collapsed around him. The only building standing tall was the windmill, its blades now roaring and creaking.

He darted up the hill, his dagger firmly gripped in his hand.

At the top, two shadows were fighting. A sword of iron and a sword of fire clashed.

"Father!" Sebastian shouted.

His toe hit something hard. He stumbled, then fell. As he looked up, a wave of marbles came over him. Hundreds of clay marbles with faces and figures painted on.

Sebastian clambered up just in time to see the burning blade pierce his father's chest. The man slumped backwards and rolled down the hill.

"No!" he yelled.

Just as the windmill crashed down, the body came to a standstill. Not Father, but Uncle Tom reached out for him as blood bubbled up from his mouth. "Sebby."

"No, you can't die. You mustn't die—I'm not ready. I'll get help." 

He darted a look around.

The smoke had lifted. Where there had been the trees of the Forest of Lane laid crumbled rocks and fragments of broken glass. The hill had turned into the obsidian stairs of the throne room. Children were still crying, but he was no longer in Laneby.

On top, the magician removed his hood as he sat down on the throne. The fiery red of hair showed but a few streaks of black. His eyes as green as venom.

Sebastian woke up with a start. "Sundale is burning."