'Sarr-eeeee!' Nisala wailed, chasing her sister across the room.

'Can't catch me!' sang Sarri over her shoulder, running for the nursery door. 'You can't – oof!'

She ran straight into Eliana and ricocheted back off her, catching her heel in her gown and nearly tumbling over backwards.

'Woah!' Eliana caught her niece under the arm.

Sarri steadied herself, laughing breathlessly as Nisala caught up. Eliana kept hold of the older girl's arm, asking 'what's going on here?'

'She's – got – my doll – AGAIN!' panted Nisala, bottom lip sticking out in a sulky pout.

Eliana gave her niece a stern look. Sarri rolled her eyes, 'oh alright,' she sighed. 'I was only playing!' She held out the doll; Nisala snatched it back and stormed off.

'Sarri,' said Eliana, softly. 'What am I going to do with you? Nisala adores you, you know. She idolises you. Must you always fight with her and wind her up?'

The girl shrugged, looking at the floor. 'I was bored. I only wanted a laugh. She's so easy to rile up – didn't you ever fight with my mother?'

'All the time,' smiled Eliana, 'but we were not princesses. You must learn to behave yourself. It's a lesson we've all had to learn.'

And some of us learnt it in harder ways than others, she thought, sending Sarri on her way.

Eight years had now passed since her arrival in Babylon. Sarri had grown into a precocious and mischievous beauty of eleven, with curls that cascaded to her waist and dark expressive eyes that tilted up at the corners – her mother's eyes. It still gave Eliana equal pangs of joy and grief when she looked at Sarri and saw Kisha's image reflected back at her. The girl had her mother's looks, and her father's sharp intelligence. She also had his sharp tongue, when it suited her; Eliana was trying to curb that at every opportunity. Sarri may be a princess, but she must grow up humble and sensible – Eliana felt a duty to her sister to make sure of that.

Kisuri, on the other hand, was as fragile and delicate as the day of her birth. She could not walk any great distance without tiring; while the other children ran about the gardens, she would sit under the shade of a tree with Eliana and watch with a gentle smile playing about her lips. She was almost ten years old, but her eyes held the wisdom of a much older woman. Where Sarri was flirtatious and coquettish, Kisuri was quiet and shy. The girl had a talent for the lyre and composing poetry, and she was always ready with a willing ear and soothing words if any of her siblings had a secret to share. She was already a princess to be proud of – Eliana prayed only that Kisuri would be married to a husband whose nature matched her own. She would never survive a man as robust as her father.

Though she loved her two nieces as dearly as her own children, the twins were Eliana's pride and joy. Now eight years old, they were strong and lively, with adventurous spirits and kind natures. It annoyed them that they were forced to spend more and more time apart as they grew, with Eshu's education being taken over by tutors who would mould him into the sort of prince that Samsu expected him to be.

Well, the tutors could mould him into Samsu's idea of a prince, but Eliana was determined that she would mould him into her own idea of a man. He was already showing signs of being a better man than Samsu could ever hope to be – the boy was stern with his sisters when they were being silly, but knew when to have fun, when to be serious, and, most importantly, when to be compassionate.

He and Ahat were thick as thieves, as close as Samsu and Ashan. Mari's son had been born on a stormy night two moons after Akitu. The gods had seen the boy safely into the world, and his mother had recovered quickly. He was not an especially attractive child, but his looks were not as unfortunate as his father's.

Asag doted on the boy. Now risen to be a commander in Samsu's army, he was more mocked than ever for his continuing liaison with a slave woman. But, to his credit, he did not abandon Mari; in fact, his love for her seemed to grow stronger than ever. More than once, Eliana had heard him lament the fact that he could not marry her while she was still enslaved. Samsu would not countenance freeing her – she was too good a guardian to the children, and too good a nurse to lose from the palace staff.

For all that had changed, Samsu had not. After her harsh lesson that first Akitu in Babylon, Eliana had learned to be constantly alert around her husband, giving him the words he expected to hear, making her ideas seem like his own, and giving every appearance of being the dignified and acquiescent queen he wanted. It had been difficult, at first, suppressing her own nature to gratify his, but it soon became a force of habit. If it kept the children safe, it was worth it. She had no regrets there.

In fact, the only regret that she could call to mind... was Ashan.

She had kept to her word – they had never been alone together since that awful day she had arrived in the palace. For all the long years that had passed, she had never managed to get over her love for him – only to bury it, smother it beneath other concerns. And for what it was worth, she could not be sure that he no longer loved her – he had never taken a wife, despite much pressure from Samsu, and a good number of eligible court beauties hanging around him at every opportunity.

If she could change just one thing about her time in Babylon, it would be to allow Ashan to spend more time with his children. But it had never felt safe, and their wellbeing had to be her top priority.

Still, Ashan was now responsible for his son's military education – it warmed Eliana's heart to watch them cross wooden swords in the practice arena or to see their identical black-haired heads bent over a map of the empire, discussing strategy.

Military strategy was becoming an ever-more important feature of Eshu's education. There were rumours of rebellion in the empire. A man named Rimsin had risen up, proclaiming himself the heir of the troublesome city of Larsa, and the revolution was spreading fast.

Asag burst into the room, intruding on Eliana's thoughts.

'My apologies, Your Highness, but the king would see you in his audience chamber immediately.'

'Is it so urgent?' she could not help feeling a little alarmed.

He nodded gravely, and she followed him quickly through the sprawling halls and passageways of the palace to the audience chamber.

Samsu stood at a great table set in the centre of the room, in intense conversation with Ashan, the Brute and three of his most trusted commanders.

He looked up as she entered. 'Ah, there you are. It took you long enough.'

'Apologies, sir,' she bowed. 'I came as soon as I received your summons.'

Waving his hand impatiently, he said, 'I am leaving – it's war.'

She froze, momentarily speechless with the shock. After a moment, she managed, 'War, sir?'

'War,' he nodded. 'Rimsin has rallied twenty-six cities across the empire – from Rapiqum in the north, right the way down to Ur in the south.'

She gasped – truly the whole empire had risen against Samsu's rule. Though she did not care for Babylonian rule, Samsu's kingdom was her son's inheritance.

'I have to leave immediately – within the week. There is no time to make detailed arrangements. Asag will be left behind with a small guard – my generals and I will march south to quell the rebellion in the most troublesome cities. I will do whatever it takes to preserve the empire my father built.'

'Of course,' she said, weakly.

'You and Eshu shall be left as joint regents in my absence,' he continued.

This time, her jaw dropped in visible shock. 'Regents?'

'Yes. Your judgement is second to none in this palace, and no-one's interest is more closely tied to the boy's than your own. You will teach him the ways of ruling, keep up the weekly audiences for as long as you deem them safe, and make the minor decisions regarding the wellbeing of the people. I shall have a document drawn up before I leave to outline the extent and limits of your powers.'

'Yes... sir.'

'Very well, you are dismissed. I won't have time to see you before I depart. I shall send a messenger to let you know precisely when we intend to leave, and you will dress in your finest and bring the children to see us off. The city will turn out to see the procession, and I want a full display of the might of the royal family – a glimpse of their next ruler with the sisters who will make grand dynastic marriages to strengthen their house.'

She bowed, still mute with the unexpectedness of it all, and allowed Asag to escort her back to her apartments to break the news to Eshu.

The boy was thrilled at the chance to play at being a king. Eliana did not think he fully grasped the truth of war, the fact that Samsu could die, and the play might easily become reality. The king took little interest in daughters, but he had always been tender towards Eshu, and the boy revered him as a god.

She did not wish to put a dampener on his excitement; she would cross that bridge if she reached it. If Samsu survived the war, and there was no reason to suppose he would not, it would only cause Eshu unnecessary distress. He was a clever child, but not yet ready to rule – it was difficult to imagine any eight year old boy who would be.

The week seemed to fly past – hours and days all melding together, until the moment of the army's departure was upon them and Eliana and the children stood on the royal balcony overlooking the palace gates, dressed in their finest silks and jewels.

The crowd gathered below them roared and cheered as Samsu stood in his saddle and stabbed his dagger up in salute, the sun glittering on his blade. Eliana, Eshu and the three girls raised their hands in response.

Samsu wheeled his horse around and set off through the gates at a smart trot, surrounded by his personal guard, the Brute to his left, Ashan to his right.

Even after all these years of marriage, Eliana cared nothing for Samsu's safety for the man's own sake, but she said a silent prayer to Ishtar to bring her husband and her love both home safe. Samsu's death could spell disaster for Eshu at a time when the empire was threatened and disintegrating; it needed a strong hand on the reins. And Ashan's death simply did not bear thinking about. A little part of her would die with him. She still harboured a secret hope that she would one day be able to reveal the truth of the twins' paternity to them, however unlikely that was.

As a cloud of red dust kicked up by their horses' heels obscured the army, Eliana turned to go back into the palace. She felt freer than she had since before Samsu's invasion of Nippur, and her heart positively soared at the thought of weeks, maybe months, without her husband's oppressive shadow smothering her.