The news of Samsu's accession threw the Red Palace into uproar. The comfortable routines of the last weeks and months were blown away in a heartbeat, and suddenly every servant from the most senior steward to the lowliest kitchen maid had a role to play in packing up the place for the move to Babylon.

Samsu was determined that they would arrive in Babylon in time for Akitu – the fortnight-long harvest festival that celebrated Marduk's victory over the water demon Tiamat. On the fifth day of the festival, the Babylonians had some traditional ritual in which the king must submit publically to Marduk, and so it was vital that he be enthroned before then.

Life for Eliana had never been so hectic – there were still the four children to look after, and now she had to supervise the careful packing and transportation of all their clothes and belongings, as well as her own. Mari was less and less mobile, and Eliana was beginning to think that Samsu had forgotten his promise to send her two more maids, though she supposed there would be a whole army of staff when they reached Babylon.

On top of all that, Samsu insisted that she have a wardrobe befitting a queen when they made their entry into Babylon – she was plagued by dressmakers and goldsmiths, bowing and scraping to her as they measured and fitted and plied their wares.

More than anything, what she could not get used to was her new honorific. Whenever somebody called her 'your highness', she failed to answer – it just did not seem natural that they might be speaking to her.

One thing stuck in the back of her mind in the midst of all the preparations – her father. He would be left in charge of Nippur, as he had been before the conquest, but now subject to Samsu. Adab would be expected to send regular reports to Babylon, but unless they contained stories of rebellion and trouble, they would no doubt end up buried in the vast mountain of reports that must pour in every day from all over the empire. It was with a bitter pang of sadness that Eliana realised that she was going to Babylon as queen; it must become her new home, and she might never see Nippur – or her father – ever again.

Though she had not had more than a handful of glimpses of him in the three years since her arrival in the Red Palace, it was painful to think that she might never speak to him again. She would so like to say goodbye – to speak to him, and show him that she had matured from a proud and headstrong child into a daughter, a queen, to be proud of.

She confided this to Ashan when he visited to congratulate her on her new status, and ask if there was anything he could do for her. They both knew the real reason for his visit – he held both his children, kissed them fondly, gave them his blessing, and looked longingly at them when it was time to leave. Still, he had said nothing when she expressed a wish to see her father – she supposed it was impossible, and he did not want to upset her by saying so.

The days passed in a frenzy of activity, and before she knew it, she was waking up in a near-empty bedroom on the day of their departure.

The royal party were to meet at the north gate an hour after sunrise. When Eliana stepped through the huge thick wooden doors at the front of the palace, from cool dim passageways into dazzling sunlight, the forecourt was alive with noise and frantic activity. Her appearance did not go unnoticed.

A steward banged his staff as she stepped out, 'Her Highness, Queen Eliana of Babylon,' he called.

All activity stopped, and every servant of high or low estate paused to bow to her as she passed. She tried to greet old friends, people who, just a few months ago, recognised her as an equal, a slave as much as they were. Now they all averted their eyes, murmured deferential nothings. It infuriated her.

Spying Resu amongst the crowd, she stopped before him. The old man kept his head bowed, showing her his thinning hair instead of his gruff face.

'Resu,' she smiled. 'I hope you are accompanying us to Babylon?'

'No, Your Highness,' he muttered, uncomfortable with the attention.

'Oh,' her face fell. 'Well I wish you all the best here in our absence.'

'Thank you, Your Highness.' He did not raise his eyes, did not dare, lest he be seen behaving disrespectfully towards the queen.

Eliana did not want respect, she wanted her friends. Thankfully, Mari had not treated her any differently. Eliana had watched the Brute slay Mari's brothers during the conquest, still saw them in her nightmares, and that bound them. They had known each other when they walked the streets of Nippur together in search of problems to solve – it felt like a lifetime ago, but Mari would never forget that they came from the same place, and Eliana was glad of it.

She gave up trying to speak to Resu. She genuinely wished the old man well – he had been kind to her in her hour of need, and that was not something to be taken lightly inside the Red Palace. She walked on. Servants cleared a path for her as she approached until she reached Samsu, already mounted on a great black war charger.

He nodded in greeting, his face clearly approving of her choice of attire for the grand departure. She wore a flowing silk gown of peacock blue, a heavy sapphire collar at her throat, and her arms moved with a pleasant tinkling music as her dozens of thin gold bangles bounced off each other. Atop her curls, fresh-washed and bouncing blue-black in the sunlight, was set a blue-feathered gold headdress. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her cheeks dusted with gold powder. She looked like a queen, even if she did not yet feel like one.

Asag appeared beside her and gave a deep bow, as though the last time he had seen her had not been when she was sprawled half-naked on the bed, at the mercy of the Brute and in the early stages of labour.

He lifted her up onto the mare she usually rode, and after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the assembly was ready to depart.

Eliana rode at the head of the cavalcade, just half a horse behind Samsu. Mari followed behind with the children as the party wound its way through the city to the docks, where the royal ship waited to take them up the canal, northwards to Babylon. Citizens cheered them as they passed through, though Eliana was sure they were simply cheering Samsu's departure. Things could never be as they had been before the invasion; indeed, many people no longer remembered the time before the conquest, but for those who did, some semblance of normality would return.

Whether the good days of peace and prosperity could come with it remained to be seen.

A pleasant breeze blew off the canal as they approached and dismounted. Her horse was led away, and Eliana was left gazing up at the vessel that would take her to her new home. The ship that was like nothing she had ever seen – a huge wooden craft that almost filled the width of the canal, its railings and bow decorated with boughs of leaves and flowers. She had never been on a boat before, let alone a ship – the sight of this floating palace, the anticipation of riding in it, took her breath away.

A quiet cough behind her caught her attention; she turned to find Ashan smiling down at her. He said nothing, only bowed and stepped aside.

Behind him stood her father.

Her eyes filled with tears as she threw herself into his arms, heedless of who was watching. He embraced her tightly, stroking the curls that spilled down her back.

'I've missed you,' she choked.

'And I you,' he said, quietly. 'Don't cry, darling. You are queen now – you must not cry in public.'

'Of course,' she shook her head, blinking back the tears. It would not do to smudge her paints.

'I'm proud of you, Eliana. Your natural capacity for kindness and goodness has won you the acclaim of the people and the respect of the most ruthless man I have ever known. You have outgrown your childish stubbornness and impetuosity to become a strong and clever woman. I'm certain you will thrive as queen, and leave a legacy that all the people of Nippur can be proud of.'

She bit her lip to keep from welling up again. 'Thank you,' she whispered.

Her father kissed her hand, bowed and walked away.

She turned to face Ashan, her eyes still shining. There was no need for words.

Samsu called her over; taking her hand, he led her up the gangplank and onto the ship's deck. It swayed a little beneath her feet. It was all she could do not to giggle at the sensation – she kept having to remind herself that a queen did not do this, or that, or the other, but must be proper and circumspect at all times.

It was certainly a challenge.

Stood on deck, she breathed in the distinctive smell of the city – dust and spices, people and animals, incense and herbs – took a last look at Nippur as the rest of the party boarded and the ship's crew prepared to cast off. The canal was sufficiently wide here for the oars to start them on their journey; where it became narrower, ropes would be thrown to the banks, and oxen and slaves would pull them on their way.

A great cheer went up from the crowd on the wharf as the oars emerged from the sides of the ship and dipped into the water; the deck lurched beneath Eliana's feet as they began to move. Tears threatened again as she said a silent goodbye to her home, her childhood, her family, and looked forward to an opaque future as queen.

Scanning the crowds with her eyes, she sought one last glimpse of her father. She found him – stood slightly apart, a sad smile on his face, hand raised in farewell. Half-obscured behind him stood a skinny child, a little boy of no more than seven years, stuffing a date into his mouth. With his clean clothes and impish grin, he was almost unrecognisable – Kenu, the little boy from the parade on Eshu's name day.

Adab laid his free hand on the boy's head and ruffled his hair, just as he used to do to Eliana. Her spirit soared – he would not be alone; he had a child to take care of again. More importantly, he had a child to take care of him as he grew older. A huge burden felt lifted from her, and she said a silent prayer, thanking the mother goddess for bringing the two together.

Now it was with a lighter heart and a more optimistic mind that she waved goodbye to all she had ever known, before following a steward to the rooms that would be hers during the voyage.