"My Lady?"

Marie-Fey and her ladies stopped at the call and looked back down the hall. Her brow rose in surprise at the sight of Natheer, one of the male slaves who was allowed to pass freely between the two palaces.

He handled many of the affairs of the palace and the state and, when he needed to, he would call on the advice of the women's palace.

But he never approached Marie-Fey, for conversation or advice.

"Yes?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I hoped I might seek the advice from the lady of the palace," he said, stopping in front of her and bowing low, his dark skin shining in the heat.

Marie-Fey's brow rose even higher in surprise. She flicked her eyes to her ladies, Gharam and Maanah returning her look with a sidelong glance.

"Advice on what?" she asked, looking back at Natheer.

"It is a matter of state, in the absence of Our Lord, I hoped you might advise. Perhaps illuminate or elaborate on ideas already in place."

Marie-Fey stared at him.

"Two years and you're only now asking my advice?' she asked, folding her arms.

She didn't miss his wince and she tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes locked on his black ones, waiting for him to make his excuses.

"You were new to our land, My Lady," he said, "Our Lord's mother handled everything and then, with her passing, you were still too new for us to put such pressures on you. But you have been here two years now, you must know something of your state and we wish to hear your opinion on the matter."

"Is that so?" Marie-Fey said slowly, her eyes narrowing.

A lovely laugh suddenly rang out behind them and they turned to see Zaafira walking towards them, her maids trailing behind her.

She was dressed in peach, her light brown hair tumbling down her shoulders. She was one of the few women in the palace who Marie-Fey thought could honestly give Maanah a challenge for the most beautiful – though Maanah had the better personality which always helped improve one's appearance.

When Marie-Fey had first arrived, The Lord's mother had still been alive. Marie-Fey had never guessed the woman's age, she had already been dying and looked skeletal and repulsive – and being cooped up in a dark room so she could rest constantly hadn't helped her complexion.

But Marie-Fey had adored her.

She had expected to be rebuffed or hated by the woman, an outsider daring to set foot on her domain, (despite her having played a hand in the marriage). Someone who had not been trained in the palace did not really have a place there. She had expected the same response that had greeted her from the other women.

Instead Sahla had been kind and gentle, clever as anything despite her dying state but she had taken Marie-Fey under her wing from the second she had walked through the doors, warning her that she might never truly be welcomed by the ladies of the palace but to always remember that she was above them. Marie-Fey had needed to take that advice to heart because she could not have been more correct.

Sahla had only lived six months into Marie-Fey's residence before succumbing to her illness.

If her son returned from the capital to attend his mother's funeral, Marie-Fey didn't know. She never heard from him and she did not attend.

She said her goodbyes in the palace and prepared herself to face the world without her guide as, suddenly, the most powerful woman in the state.

Before she had arrived however, Zaafira had been second only to Sahla.

She had been the hand of power that controlled the palace with an iron fist and she had not taken kindly to the Foreign Princess appearing out of nowhere and tearing her power away from her – not when she had been counting down the days to Sahla's death so that she was in charge.

Marie-Fey wasn't convinced the girls liked Zaafira anymore than they liked her but at least with Zaafira they pretended that she was a goddess made human.

"Natheer," Zaafira now said, her voice like sunshine, "Why bother Our Lady with trivial nuisances of state? I shall handle them as always. Our Lady has better things to do with her day."

She smiled a smile that made Marie-Fey want to smack her with her fan.

Then Zaafira held up her own fan to her lips – a beautiful one illustrated with peacocks and water that Marie-Fey always regretted gifting to her in a vain attempt of a peace offering. She always looked like she was looking down on Marie-Fey every time she looked over the top of her fan.

"I wouldn't want Our Lady's head to hurt with all those boring, complicated issues the men might throw our way."

Marie-Fey smiled at her. "You're truly so very kind, Zaafira," she said, delicately, and trained casualness, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she spoke, "But you're already so busy. Natheer, walk with me as we talk."

Zaafira's eyes turned to ice over her fan and she snapped it shut, her smile not quite so pretty.

"I think it would be better for someone who has a vested interest in the state to handle things," Zaafira said through her tight smile.

"Well you can discuss it with my husband when he calls on you," Marie-Fey said as she sailed passed, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. "Not that he ever will."

Zaafira's eyes narrowed.

"Tsk."

The hiss was all the reply she gave, for which Marie-Fey commended her. She could have lashed out by saying Marie-Fey would never be called either, but she restrained herself. A proper lady of the palace.

Marie-Fey left Zaafira behind and Natheer fell into step beside her.

"So, why exactly are you coming to me rather than Zaafira?" she asked calmly as she turned towards the gardens.

"Because you are the highest-ranking lady in the palace," Natheer said.

"So? No one cares what my opinion is."

"You're mistaken."

Marie-Fey glanced at him.

Natheer let out a breath. "Our Lady Sahla asked us to wait."

Marie-Fey stared at him. "Sahla? Why?"

"She explained that you were too new to a land that you didn't understand. She wanted to let you settle in."

"So you said. But She has been dead for over a year. How long was she expecting you to wait?'

"You've never exactly displayed any interest in the affairs of the state," Natheer said in a brazen display of honesty.

Marie-Fey's mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. "And here I thought this kingdom didn't care about the opinions of women. You're no better than my country."

"We care when it's behind locked doors."

"Egh," was Marie-Fey's reply. "So? What do you want? What advice can I give you that will disappoint you and send you crawling back to Zaafira?"

"There's a food shortage in the northern villages."

"So?"

Natheer glanced at her as they stepped into the garden – Mr. Larkin hopping down onto Marie-Fey's shoulder as they walked.

"Do you not care about the people of your state?"

"Give me a reason to care," Marie-Fey said simply as they reached one of the main fountains. She spun around, her skirts whirling around her and sat down on the fountain wall, crossing her legs and leaning back on one hand, opening her fan, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him.

His dark brow creased slightly, his robes rippling in the breeze as he stood before her.

"Go on," Marie-Fey said, waving her fan at him, "Give me a reason to care. I've been to the northern villages. I wasn't exactly greeted with joy, or even mild interest. Disgust was a better turn of phrase. Superstitious of the stranger girl with the blue eyes and the russet hair. So, go on, give me a reason to care?"

"There are women and children struggling, My Lady."

"Uh-huh, there are women and children struggling in my home kingdom as well," she replied, looking at her nails, "people living in gutters. Villagers so poor the roof over their heads is barely thicker than chiffon. Whole families who exist day to day, never knowing when they'll next eat." She looked up at him. "Why should I care?"

"My Lady," Natheer sighed, moving to kneel in front of her, "I realise you have never known the hunger these people suffer."

Marie-Fey's lip twitched as she narrowed her eyes then snapped her fan shut.

"No, maybe I haven't," she said coolly. "But I do know no one comes to the rescue of the poor and suffering."

"I understand, My Lady," Natheer muttered.

"Maanah, do you have my writing equipment?"

Maanah stepped forward, pulling forth a sheet of parchment, quill and inkpot from the small bag she carried across her shoulder that contained little trinkets Marie-Fey kept with her outside of her rooms.

Marie-Fey settled the parchment on her lap and Gharam unscrewed the inkpot, holding it out.

"One cannot expect entire villages to simply share their food because Mother Nature has turned her back on a location for a time," she said as she started to write.

Natheer nodded slowly. "I understand, My Lady," he muttered again, getting to his feet, "Then I must take my leave of you today to reply to—"

"Our Lady is not finished," Maanah said calmly, looking at him.

He looked at her in surprise.

"The fact is this year suffered bad harvests due to a change in weather," Marie-Fey continued without looking up from her writing. "The water supplies in the north dried quickly and what little they have has to be given over to thirst."

Natheer stared at her. "I... didn't realise you were aware of the draught," he said.

"I read. A lot," Marie-Fey said bluntly. "It was obvious that a bad harvest was approaching ages ago. If they did not save for such an occasion, that is their own fault. These are villages of so-called experienced farmers. They should know to prepare for the worst when bad years are approaching – whether there is warning or not. Every village, town and city has struggled this year. The north more than others. The fact that not everyone suffered so badly will work in their favour however. For a time. This is not a long-term solution, merely an immediate response to hold back the end."

Signing her name, she held the parchment to him.

"Every household from here to the north must donate a small portion of supplies. Something sustainable and something that is within their means, so it will vary between house to house. My palace will donate a great deal more than the slums. If a family cannot afford anything, we shall not take anything. I won't have one family suffer for the sake of another. By the time you reach the northern villages, you will possess an exorbitant amount of food. It will have to be rationed so it lasts but it will keep the problems at bay for a time."

Natheer stared at her as he slowly took the parchment.

Marie-Fey leant back, dropping her head back and looking up at the clear sky.

"And you needn't worry so much, rains are on their way," she said, closing her eyes at the cool breeze that drifted across her face.

"They are?" Natheer said, startled.

"They are." She opened her eyes and looked at him without lowering her head. "So, will you be turning to Zaafira for advice?"

Natheer looked at her for a moment, then smiled. "I think this response shall do wonderfully, My Lady," he said, bowing.

Marie-Fey closed her eyes again. "You already went to her, didn't you?"

Natheer looked away, not meeting the gaze of Maanah and Gharam as they looked at him.

"Her suggestion was to bring the villagers to the city for sanctuary."

"What a drain of resources," Marie-Fey sighed.

"That was the overall thought."

"Well, see how you do with my proposal," Marie-Fey said, dismissing him with a wave of the hand.

"Sahla was right to have us wait for you to settle, My Lady. Your husband will be proud."

Marie-Fey's eyes opened and she lowly looked at him.

"Isn't that nice?" she said through a smile and clenched teeth.

Natheer barely hid his pity before he bowed and walked away.

Her ladies watched him leave for a moment, then Maanah looked at her.

"Do you care about the northern territories?" she asked.

Marie-Fey opened one eye, looking at her. "Are you from there?" she asked.

"No, of course not. I wouldn't be a slave if I came from this land," Maanah said, her voice only slightly cold.

"Do you care about the Northern territories?" Marie-Fey asked.

Maanah's brow furrowed.

"Do you care, Gharam?" Marie-Fey asked, looking at her second maid.

Gharam seemed to seriously consider it. "Yes," she said and Maanah looked round at her.

Marie-Fey smiled. "Tell me why."

"Because humans exist there and we much care about fellow humans less we lose yourselves," Gharam said and Marie-Fey laughed.

Maanah looked like she was about to snap at Marie-Fey for laughing at Gharam but Gharam just smiled slightly, stopping her.

Marie-Fey held out a hand and Gharam took it, kneeling in front of her as Marie-Fey straightened.

"You are rare and valuable," she said, squeezing Gharam's hand. "Do not let anyone in this world taint that sweet little heart of gold. People like you shouldn't be like everyone else."

Gharam smiled slightly, looking down.

"And you, Maanah, you haven't replied."

"I don't know," Maanah said, her voice tight.

Marie-Fey smiled. "Well," she said, looking away across the gardens, "that's alright. You needn't know, there's no reason for you to know."

"You didn't answer either, My Lady," Maanah pointed out.

"I don't really care," Marie-Fey said, releasing Gharam's hand and stretching, dislodging Mr. Larkin who slid down onto her lap. "I've never much cared where other humans are concerned. It is a flaw of mine. You would require my siblings if you wish to find caring souls."

"And how are your siblings, My Lady?"

Marie-Fey blinked and looked around to see Zaafira gliding down the steps from the palace, walking towards her, fan open as ever.

"They are quite well. And yours?" Marie-Fey asked.

Zaafira's eyes turned to ice before warming again. Marie-Fey gave her an innocent smile.

"I am sure they are well," Zaafira replied. "Are you finished with Natheer?"

"Yes, we're finished."

"I do hope you know you can come to me for any advice, should you find yourself lacking," Zaafira said.

"Thank you, that is most generous."

"In regard to today's query, you'll find it best to—"

"Not to worry," Marie-Fey cut in, "Natheer decided my idea was logical and has gone to the counsel. Assuming they like it, they shall be proceeding soon."

Zaafira looked at her for a moment. "They're proceeding with your idea?"

"If they accept it."

Zaafira just stared at her.

"Is something wrong, Zaafira?" Marie-Fey asked, getting to her feet, Mr. Larkin in her arms.

Zaafira seemed to snap out of her daze and smiled at her.

"Of course not, My Lady. This is wonderful news. You are settled enough to take on the responsibilities I've had to shoulder for so long in your stead."

"I'm sorry you had to suffer."

Zaafira gave her a laugh, closing her fan. "Your husband would be proud," she muttered, looking away.

"So I've been told," Marie-Fey said, frowning as Zaafira turned and swept away.