Rainah stepped out into her oasis of autumn colours. Trees of which she owned the only ones in all of Scoria swept with the refreshing coolness of a breeze coming from the bay. The star-shaped flowers were finally in bloom, and here and there deep carmine was starting to colour the berries she grew for Sahabi's morning pot of brew. The harvest was upon them, which meant mere days or hours of serenity before the musky scent of the Suhrian desert clashed with the salty waters of the Jade Sea.

The sky, pure crystalline but moments ago, was colouring tangerine. A golden hour during the moon of gold.

Outside the thick palace walls, Alburkhan had woken up from its half-slumber. The streets bustled with people, crowded but never aggressive. Order in the chaos of merchants meeting their consumers halfway in the endless game of supply and demand.

The black and orange fur of her two four-hundred-pound babies brushed against her hip as they slipped past her and into the refreshing waters of the lily-covered pond. Taika grunted as Shari stuck her head under the fountain. The more slender tigress shot him a reprimanding glance. There was no negotiating with her; Shari was a real Queen.

"Patience is a virtue," she told Taika.

The tiger uttered a pitiful mewl before scampering off to the side, where he could lie in the shade of the sycamore trees. Shaking her head, Rainah smiled to herself and walked up to the gazebo covered in vines and tiny white flowers. Taika had more patience than she had ever possessed. 

Her earliest memory was that of her tossing a thick book of dull classical stories at Raja Zafira's head because she would rather read fairytales from the North, even though the Raja had promised they would after she had finished her assignment. That evening, her Abbah had made her sit on her knees for hours on end until she had muttered enough prayers to the God of Virtue. 

It hadn't helped. Nearly forty years later, the Heavens were still silent.

From the table, she grabbed the bow Alizah had prepared for her afternoon archery session. Her servant had been diligent, as always. The golden limbs and rearing stallion on the grip polished until they shone; a new reverse-twisted string from the hair of her own horses. Black fletchings on the arrows, unscathed. The puppet resting underneath the wide canopy of the olive tree had been restuffed with straw and scraps of old cloth, not a trace left of the wounds she had inflicted on its hemp skin.

Arrow nocked, she took her stance and drew the bow, aiming at the heart. She let the arrow fly. The black shaft streaked through the air, hitting the hemp figure so hard it wobbled on its wooden feet.

Her fingers were already reaching for the second arrow. 

Better to shoot at a lifeless doll than to unleash Wrath's fury on the Khans and Rajas that kept her awake at night, as though the growing number of deaths caused by the drought in Al Jafaf was her fault. She had also plainly refused to spend money the crown was yet to receive in order to further finance the steam-powered ships that would make the army less dependent on the mercy of the fickle, capricious wind. The idea was good, but the results weren't enough to warrant yet another tonne of gilded asses to disappear into Raja Salem's sweaty hands. Not during peacetime, at least. Scoria had hungrier mouths to feed.

Her next shot struck the middle of the target. Sahabi may be cursing her now for filling her days with math, finance, and economic models, but one day her eldest daughter would be standing where she stood and be grateful that she could distinguish a bargain from a trap. To be Queen was to be the country's first and best accountant.

Rainah exchanged the bow for the silver stars, which combined the strength of the scimitar with archery's precision. She pinched the star between her thumb and index finger, then brought it to her ear. A real challenge would be to slice the arrows she had shot at the puppet.

Her wrist in position, seconds away from flicking the star at the target, she startled. Almost simultaneously, Taika and Shari leapt up from the water and bound through the lotus-shaped archway. Their growls were those of recognition and her husband' voice answered. "Yeah, yeah, I would never eat keftas without thinking of you."

Rainah kept the star in her hand but refrained from throwing. Cyrus hadn't come here to feed her babies leftover kefta. For the past few hours, he had shared brew and hookah with Master Wilson, the Greenlander ambassador. Twice a year he crossed the Jade Sea to confirm which of the tall tales from the harbour were legends and which were actually true. The tales of the summer moons had been so gargantuan, she had almost wanted to join her husband. That was until she had remembered her Ummi's wisdom that one can take a Greenlander out of The Greenlands, but never The Greenlands out of the Greenlander. The ambassador's stories were juicier when there were no women around.

"How was Wilson?" She asked.

"Wilson—the usual." Cyrus came into the gazebo with Taika still licking the leftover lamb juice from his fingers. Goddess of Lust, those black layered silk robes and baggy trousers he wore perfectly concealed the fact the Black Panther of Alburkhan was turning into a domesticated cat. "But what that man had to say—the north has changed, Rainah."

Enticed by more than his words, she twirled the star around her fingers. "Miserly Alder dances with the Bear and the Dragon in the eternal cave of abundance?"

"And succeeded by his son River. I've already asked Kifah to arrange two horses for the new royal couple." Before she could say anything, he added, "And a collection of the finest cashmere shawl for the Dowager Queen, excellent for the cold Ician winters."

"That's why I married you."

A short cackle. "You married me because your father ended the deal with William."

After King Bill had paid the dowry of shame so the Scorians would never reveal his eldest son was a wizard. "I wouldn't have you," she told Cyrus just to rile him up. "But I would have been Queen of Scoria and The Greenlands."

"A beautiful doll in the north, and a fierce tiger in the south," he teased her back.

A warm glow radiated through her body. She leant towards him, scratching the star over his cheek. She drew a thin line of blood. "Am I only beautiful in the north?"

"You're no doll here." Lust blazed in his incandescent blue eyes as his teeth grazed his bottom lip.

"Am I not?" She cocked her head, batting her eyelashes. Her mind shifted from politics to games in the bedroom, a play where Cyrus would dominate her. Be a King instead of her Alafin, and she his slave.

Taika's growling yawn ruined the moment. He stretched, then tiptoed back to his spot in the fountain, underneath the trees. Shari already laid there, her head on her paws. But there was enough room for the two of them.

"Wanna make other guesses?" Cyrus asked. There was a distance between them again.

"The pirates bickering among themselves is also true," Rainah replied. Too many Jade Islanders had entered the harbour sharing the same story.

"Aye." He prolonged the word. "But Wilson added a nice detail. Thomas has struck a deal with a handful of bands—they're working for him now. Like mercenaries."

"Why would he do that?"

"Initially, to deal with Caracal's increasing threat of war."

"Caracal—so Ariel has passed away too."

"Yeah, but before we send horses and expensive garments to Silvermark, there is an interesting twist." Cyrus raised an eyebrow to pique her curiosity even more.

She waved her hand. "Skip the murders if there are any—they ruin my appetite."

"To summarise an hour worth of theories and nitty-gritty details I'll never remember because I smoked too much hookah, Storm seized the throne."

"The Ician?"

Cyrus nodded. "A wizard too."

Curse the Seven Gods of Sin.

"Jealous because his brother took the crown intended for him," Rainah guessed.

"Actually, Wilson was quite certain Storm hasn't yet been informed of the death of his father. According to the ambassador's calculations, it is likely Storm sent the ravens to announce his assumption even before Alder drew his final breath."

"So Greed?"

"Or an opportunity he couldn't pass." Cyrus shrugged.

"But Storm can't just snatch the throne and call himself King, not under the treaty of Auger," Rainah remarked. The treaty was one of the rare international conventions. It prevented usurpers from even trying to take down their sovereign.

"With his family in Bigtown, and his sister in Sundale, Storm must have thought it to be easy to gain recognition as the new ruler of Silvermark. River agreed, mostly to keep his brother away from his borders. But Crystal has kept her lips stiff, and—"

"Storm isn't pleased."

"To put it mildly." Cyrus grinned. "First, he flooded the northern Greenlander villages with poor Silvermarkers, careful not to send witches and wizards. Then, the mages started to seep through the cracks. Big and small fires popped up from Porthby to Burnfirth, leading to dozens of civilian casualties and a few hundred soldiers. Thomas has had the smaller villages evacuated to the bigger, fortified towns."

"So, they're at war."

"Wilson didn't dare to use that word—bad for business. But he has asked Scoria's stance in case of extended period of conflict." Cyrus put his hands to his hips. Scoria and The Greenlands had been allies for over three hundred years. A wizard throwing a tantrum from Moondale would only strengthen the Scorian alliance. "I brought David's marriage back to table, but Lana has already been promised to some blind boy—I don't understand—he has no ties of any of the great Greenlander families."

But she was of no importance, not anymore. For the longest time, she had reminded Thomas of the grief his family had cost him, and that one of her children would wed one of his. When her son had been born, she had even given him a Greenlander name, bait for her almost-husband to take. But that was until Sebastian had officially been presented as heir. Sahabi had already been promised to Musa's boy, Idris, to appease the Markurdyians, but she had another daughter. "Forget David and Lana. Jhara must marry Thomas' nephew."

"He's twelve years old."

"Jhara's fifteen. They don't stay small." She also made a mental note to accept Raja Salem's proposition for the steamships. Peace would be over by the time those ships were ready to sail—if they would still call it sailing.

"My daughter will become a doll," Cyrus said, grimacing.

"She already is. The Greenlander parties and pretty dresses will be Jhara's heaven." Sure, she would throw the occasional star like her Ummi, but it was nothing the garden of Sunstone Castle wouldn't be able to hide.

Cyrus hummed. "I don't want her to marry into war."

"You'll have to pull the right strings, bring the boy here for the wedding." She leant in and lightly bit his lip. No tiger to disturb them now. "Convince Wilson Sebastian will be safer in Alburkhan than in a wartorn Sundale. He'll refuse—for now, but perhaps in a few seasons..."

"I'll see what I can do."

"You must."

"Must I?" Cyrus pulled her closer to his body, then as he kissed her, his hands glided down her back to settle lightly at her waist

When she spoke, it was against his lips. "Not now, but soon."

His tongue slipped past her teeth, tangling with her own. Fate sprinkled with a dash of magic had prevented her from becoming Queen of the Greenlands, and perhaps that had been for the best. Her youngest daughter was far more suited for the role. Time would make Jhara a mother, and the son born out of that union would be next in line to sit on the obsidian throne.

Rainah gave into the sin of Lust. One day, perhaps forty years from now, her grandson would rule as a content tiger underneath the leaves of the sycamore tree.

Perhaps Patience was a virtue, after all.