As they rode back to the palace, Eliana was beginning to feel quite self-conscious. Though she had been a focus of attention for hundreds of people over the course of the day, she only felt uneasy now, under Ashan's gaze. Almost every time she glanced at him, he was staring at her. As soon as she caught him, he would look away. She tried to read his face in the split second before he wiped it clean of emotion - there was a strange sort of hunger in his eyes that made her squirm.

He tried to stop himself from looking at her, tried to occupy his mind elsewhere, but his gaze kept sliding back to her, riding her fine pale horse as well as any man, shimmering in the sun like a gilded statue. Utu's rays reflected from the gold of her gown, her circlet and her hair ornaments, creating a bright halo; it was as if the light of a goddess emanated from within her.

His stomach tightened as he watched her, remembering the unearthly joy of being in her bed, her warm thighs wrapped around his back, pulling him deeper. His mouth pressed to hers, stifling her breathy gasps of pleasure and delight. The softness of her breasts under his palms. The way she writhed with arousal when he had kissed the tender skin of her neck. He had an almost unbearable desire to be with her again; it was all he could do to keep his hands from her, let alone his eyes.

He was becoming a danger to himself, he knew. He could not let his desire for one woman be the death of him; for it surely would be, if Samsu noticed.

It had been agony, standing there impassively, watching her stand at the altar and be bound to a man she hated, the man he had grown up with as a brother. Though she had belonged to Samsu in word before, she was truly his property now, in deed and in the sight of Marduk. The great god had witnessed the bond and blessed the marriage. To attempt anything with her now would be to risk his wrath... and Samsu's.

There were few things Samsu took so seriously as a perceived betrayal. Once, when they were children, Ashan had repeated a secret of Samsu's to his mother; always the better fighter, the older boy had beaten him bloody for it in their next combat training session.

Re-entering the palace through the magnificent north gate, Ashan couldn't help but notice the slight droop in Eliana's shoulders.

It was like an iron cloak being hung about her shoulders as they came through the arched gate, a great weight of sadness pulling her down. She had felt alive again, out in the city; she couldn't help but wonder how long it might be until she would be permitted another visit.

The Brute lifted her from her horse, setting her on her feet a little harder than necessary. Samsu beckoned - she went to him, and he took her arm and led her to the great hall for the marriage feast.

Eliana felt Kisha's absence keenly as she sat on a lower chair to the left of Samsu's great throne, a full head below him. An empty chair, smaller, but still a polished and carved throne, was placed to his left. Susa had snubbed the ceremony and the celebratory feast. She would have no part of it, she said. It shamed her husband's noble line for him to marry a whore.

With Asag on her other side, Eliana had nobody to talk to. Nerves and loneliness twisted her stomach - she could not relax, sat between these two men who had brought her nothing but misery. The banquet was less grand than the one for the emissaries, but there was still good food in vast quantities, an assortment of high-ranking guests draped in bright silks and glittering jewels, and a wild array of eclectic entertainments. She picked politely at the dishes that were set in front of her, but for once she had no real appetite; instead, she focused on the performers or watched the people as they drank and laughed, argued and flattered, danced and brawled.

Nobody paid her the slightest bit of attention, despite the fact that the feast was ostensibly in honour of her marriage. Still, she was on the dais - a vast step-up from where she sat at the last celebration. Kisha had never been accorded these honours. She supposed that Kisha had never earned Samsu's respect in quite the same way. Her ribs still ached when she breathed too deeply, or sneezed, or coughed, or laughed. The respect was hard-won.

The party seemed interminable. The wine flowed as freely as if the canal were suddenly flooded with it, and the empty jugs began to stack up against the far wall. Innumerable dishes of delicacies were paraded out - more food than a congregation twice this size could ever hope to consume. Her blood boiled a little as she thought of the starving children she had seen on her procession route earlier that day.

She had lost track of the hours by the time the last entertainment finished and the dishes began to be cleared away. Samsu, roaring drunk and telling some boisterous war anecdote in the midst of a crowd of his soldiers, did not notice as a pair of female body slaves came to take Eliana away.

They were to prepare her for the marriage bed, they told her. Eliana snorted, 'that's ridiculous! It's hardly going to be the first time he has had me.'

'We merely obey the great prince, my lady,' the girls said, softly, apologetically, as they guided her with insistent hands to the bathhouse.

She was washed, scrubbed, purified and perfumed all over again. They slipped a sheer gown over her head - she shuddered as it touched her skin, reminding her of her humiliating slave dresses. She should be used to them by now, she supposed, but she would never get used to the fact that her body was no longer her own property.

The girls decorated her, painting her eyelids with gold and using ochre to give her cheeks a maidenly blush, despite her scoffing at the idea. Leading her to Samsu's chambers, they helped her up onto his bed and arranged her prettily for him to find - straightening her skirts and smoothing her hair over one shoulder. They reclined her and placed a cushion under her ribs, forcing her to arch her back, creating an attractive line that emphasised the dip of her slender waist and the swell of her breasts.

When they were satisfied that they could do no more to please Samsu short of opening their own legs, the girls bowed and took their leave, and Eliana's wait began.

After around twenty minutes, a head peered tentatively around the doorframe.

'My lady?' Resu's gruff voice was a sound to soothe the ears.

'Resu! Forgive me if I do not stand to speak to you - those girls spent so long arranging me that I should hate to move and spoil all their hard work. I feel like a lump of clay that they have spent all evening moulding into shape.'

He smiled, 'and very well they have done their work too, my lady. I just wanted to offer my congratulations on your marriage. The prince had me clear away your cushions and your chain - I do not think he intends to keep you here again.'

'No,' she agreed. 'He has me bound in a different chain now.'

'I found some personal belongings under your bedding - I returned them to your chambers during the festivities this afternoon.'

'Oh, thank you! I had completely forgotten. I don't even remember what I had.'

He shrugged, 'just some odd bits and pieces. Herbs, and the like.'

Her smile froze in place, 'well thank you so much, I'm ever so grateful.'

'My lady,' he disappeared as quietly as he had come.

Her herbs! She hadn't taken them since the day before Kisha died, almost six weeks ago. Quickly, she began to count the weeks.

She counted twice. She should have bled more than a week ago.

A little spark of joy warmed her from the inside; any child she might be carrying could only be Ashan's - she had bled since Samsu last had her.

The spark quickly died, chased away by panic. Samsu knew she had bled - she must endure his attentions stoically for a couple of months before she could plausibly make him believe that the child was his.

But still, the realisation was enough to make her want to hug herself. She said a quiet prayer to the mother goddess that her courses were not merely late, as they sometimes were.

The door creaked open - Samsu's silhouette swayed in the frame. He walked heavily over to the bed, leering down at her, licking his lips wetly.

'So,' he slurred, 'I have freed you, married you, and honoured you far above what any concubine could ever dream of. Do you have any affection me yet - your new-wedded husband?'

'No,' she said quietly. 'I am not free - I am married. That is the same as being a slave. You forced me into this bondage as you forced me into the chain. I did not choose it, you have simply found a new way to bind me.'

He grunted. 'Ungrateful whore.'

Climbing unsteadily onto the bed, he reached out to touch her face. 'Beautiful whore,' he murmured, his voice thick with wine, eyes lit with anticipation.

Pushing her back, he tugged her gown up to her waist and clumsily pushed his way inside her. She squeezed her eyes tight shut against the pain.

'Open your eyes,' he growled. 'I will have you look at me - watch me take what is mine by right, as your husband, whether you will it or not.'

She did as commanded, her clear gaze locking with his. It seemed to arouse him more than ever - he gasped and began to thrust hard.

Eliana fought to keep her eyes as opaque as coal, to hide her disdain and disgust.

Still... she might be imagining it... it might be the drink... or it might just be that she was getting used to his ways, but the ordeal did not feel quite so rough as usual.

The wine sped him on his way, and he spent more quickly than she would have dared to dream. As he rolled off her and sprawled on the bed beside her, already asleep, her heart lifted with a painful twist of hope. She could be carrying Ashan's child - it was too early to be sure, but it was possible. Almost drowned out by the deafening snores, Eliana repeated her whispered prayer to the mother goddess.