Tea was finally prepared in one of the small, green gardens at the back of the palace. Blankets and pillows were scattered around the grass, flowers poured from the boarders and trees offered shade from the midday sun. The garden was attached directly onto the palace, the open wall of a room granting direct access into the palace, a balcony and walkway above that looked down over the garden.

Servants stood ready under the shade of the balcony with fresh drinks and food as Marie-Fey and Zaydan sat out on the blankets, Maire-Fey's gown pooling out around her like a shield and Zaydan leaning back against a huge cushion as content as could be.

Marie-Fey informed him that if he didn't wipe that silly grin off his face in record time, she would throw a mango at him.

Zaydan replied that he had never met a woman so ready to risk punishment for speaking her mind.

Marie-Fey's response was to throw said mango slice at him and remind him he had informed her himself he was not in the habit of hurting women.

That just got a laugh out of him and Marie-Fey promptly ignored him for the rest of the meeting and was thus subjected to his idle chatter.

He was purposely going out of his way to wind her up.

And she was inches from turning fangs on him when Gharam appeared.

Maanah's relief was palpable as she closed her eyes and thanked her god that she didn't have to intervene between her mistress and her young master as she watched Marie-Fey break every code of female behaviour around a man in under half an hour.

The sound of Gharam's chiffon voice was like a balm to her nerves and turned to the two young women walking into the room, their slippered feet soft against the tiled floor.

She opened her mouth to announce them then paused, noting how well the newcomer looked once she no longer resembled a feral cat,

She was somewhere between ten and twelve, a little above average in height for the age, slender but already in the transition stage to becoming a woman.

She had long auburn hair and huge blue eyes, a faint sun-kiss to her skin that might have been natural or from her travelling across the dessert.

The sight made Maanah hold her breath, that she could see what the girl would grow into, what attention she could garner from men already – from anyone.

Maanah's eyes flicked to Gharam, who was still speaking to the girl, arm around her shoulders and head bowed to her.

Maanah turned and drew in a breath before calling her lady's attention.

Marie-Fey flicked her eyes towards the newcomer without interest and held up her cup for a refill. One of the other servants rushed forwards to pour fresh tea and Marie-Fey beckoned to the girl, pointing to a spot five feet from her and Zaydan, in the middle of the grassy garden.

Gharam whispered reassurance and let the girl go, moving to stand by Maanah.

The girl, chin held high in defiance, swept to the spot Marie-Fey indicated.

And took one step closer than Marie-Fey permitted.

She eyed the obvious display of rebellion without expression, then turned her attention to the girl's face.

"What languages can you speak?" she asked simply, before switching to her native tongue. "Can you speak my language?"

The girl's defiance broke for a moment with surprise, then she quickly nodded.

"Have you miraculously gone mute since you almost screamed the hall down?" Marie-Fey asked, taking a sip of her tea.

The girl was quiet for a moment, then slowly shook her head.

"Are you asking me to strike you to get a sound out of you?" Marie-Fey asked, hand reaching for her fan that lay between her and Zaydan.

Zaydan's gentle fingers touched her hand and she knew he was trying to stay her hand but the girl answered fast enough.

"No," she said.

"No?" Marie-Fey said.

The girl hesitated. "No, M'lady?" she guessed.

Marie-Fey released her fan. "You'll speak my language from now on. It is the language of this palace. Learn the native tongue as well, you had better be a fast study."

"I want to go home," the girl said.

Marie-Fey glanced at her over the rim of her cup. "Yes, well don't we all?" she said coolly and felt Zaydan's eyes flick to her.

She took a long, slow sip of her tea, letting the tension build, then set her cup down.

"Maanah, Gharam. Here."

Her ladies stepped forwards.

"The rest of you. Get out."

The other servants bowed out of the room, leaving the food and drinks and vanishing like ghosts.

"Sit," Marie-Fey ordered and the girl sat.

Marie-Fey then took her time to examine the girl.

Now that she looked human, she was far more tolerable on the eye. She was dressed in a peacock blue gown of light satin, her hair pinned up and makeup touched to her face.

She was too young to be wearing such an adult face but Marie-Fey set that aside for later.

Her eyes fell to the dirty bag the girl still clutched and that brought up the image of the girl from less than an hour ago – wild hair, razor sharp blue eyes, torn gown from grander days, a lady in peasant's clothing.

She closed her eyes against the flash of memory that shot through her mind, of a collapsing cottage and endless anger and filth and unwanted eyes.

"Lady Fey?"

Zaydan's soft voice cut through and she opened her ice blue eyes, pushing her rich chocolate hair back over her shoulder and returned her attention to the moment at hand.

"I take it you have a name. Remind me."

"Chiara," the girl said instantly.

Marie-Fey looked at Gharam.

"Azeeza," her lady replied.

Azeeza rounded on Gharam, all trust in her gone. "My name is Chiara!" she snarled.

"Your name is Azeeza," Marie-Fey said and Chiara stared at her. She waved a dismissive hand towards her ladies. "You think they came with those names? Almost every woman here was renamed upon arrival."

"Why?" Azeeza snarled.

"Because they are slaves and thus property. Or pets. We name our pets at our will and they are no different to the man who owns them."

Azeeza looked ready to tear someone's throat out. "What did he name you?" she spat.

Marie-Fey flicked her gaze to the girl from under her lashes, before calmly reaching for the fan.

Azeeza winced but Marie-Fey just opened it to slowly waft it.

"My name is Marie-Fey. And that name was given to me by my parents. They could not decided between the two thus combined them." She added the little detail for the simple act of prolonging the time before Azeeza could start screaming.

Azeeza certainly looked at the edge of it.

But actually had the notion to not rise to the challenge.

"Why?" she asked instead through grinding teeth. "Why do you get to keep your name?"

"Because I was never a slave. I am a wife. A different type of property."

"Lady Fey," Zaydan muttered.

Azeeza watched Marie-Fey through narrowed eyes.

"Family name," Marie-Fey said; ordering, not requesting.

"Do I still have that?" Azeeza had the attitude to ask.

"No," Marie-Fey said calmly.

Azeeza's bottom lip trembled, belying her age. "Este," she whispered, looking down.

Marie-Fey raised her eyebrow.

"No small noble name," she said coolly.

Azeeza's head snapped up. "You know my family name? But we're so far from home!"

"I trust you have heard of the Leigh family?" Marie-Fey said, though did give enough to add, "Though at such an age I would let an absence of knowledge slide."

She didn't get to finish properly as the girl put two and two together and launched forwards on hands and knees, eyes huge.

"Leigh!" she cried, "You're a Leigh Lady?"

Marie-Fey waved her off. "Yes, I am a Leigh Lady. And you, I am assuming, are from a branch of the Este family as I only have the vaguest notion of a Chiara Este."

"But... but you know my father?!"

"Naturally. Though I haven't seen him since I last visited your homeland."

"But then you can reach him!" Azeeza cried, "You don't understand! Those men stole me! They dragged me all the way here! I was kidnapped! You have to help me get home!"

"I am not in the business of returning lost and found property," Marie-Fey said bluntly and Azeeza screamed at her.

Zaydan sat up straighter as the ladies itched to rush forwards to put themselves between Marie-Fey and the girl, in case the girl tried to attack her.

Marie-Fey didn't move and nor was she impressed by the girl's outrage.

"You're a child raised noble, of a rank higher than me and this is your behaviour. You're disgraceful to your family," she said.

Azeeza was trembling in rage, but seemed to decide on a new tact. She wrenched her precious bag around and yanked open the flap, digging through the content.

She finally wrenched out a letter and threw it at Marie-Fey, who did not move to catch it.

"My father managed to give me that before I was taken! Read it! I cannot! Read it and it will tell you what he will pay for my release and how to return me! I want to go home!"

"A young lady and you cannot read? Illiterate and vile in temper. My, my," Marie-Fey said, purely for the spite of it.

Azeeza saw through it and Marie-Fey silently commended her observation when she knew Rasha or Laiba would have fallen right into it.

"It is not in any language I have learnt," she hissed.

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow again at that, then calmly picked up the letter and turned it over.

Clearly curiosity had already got to Azeeza because the wax seal was broken. Marie-Fey opened the letter and understood why Azeeza couldn't read it. It was written in Zaydan's native language.

Now.

Why would a man thrusting a desperate letter to his daughter, who would be in the process of being kidnapped, write it in a language she could not understand, in a neat, steady scrawl?

And how very patient her kidnappers were to wait for the man.

How good of him to not attempt to fight them tooth and nail to get her back.

Marie-Fey, of course, only had experience of one father, and he was no longer in such youthful health that she would want him wrestling kidnappers, but she was in no doubt he would.

She eyes scanned her page, taking in the words.

Then read it again.

She resisted letting out a breath. Ignored the disgust in her heart.

"Lady Fey?" Zaydan asked gently and Marie-Fey offered the requested letter. He took it, first seeing the language, pausing and glancing at Marie-Fey, before taking in the content.

"You were not kidnapped," Marie-Fey said, not pausing to quell the pain she was about to cause, "You were sold."

Azeeza clearly did not comprehend the meaning of those words despite having an obviously expert grasp of the language used.

She just stared blankly at Marie-Fey.

"You were given to my husband as a gift and thanks in exchange for his help in your family's current financial struggle. You were not kidnapped. This letter was not for you. You are property to be handed off between men. You will be handed off to another man should my husband decide it. Or you will live your life here, a slave at first unless you have the talent or brains to get yourself up the ranks. You are old enough to be attractive, if my husband ever has the decency to come home and calls for you, you will go to him like any other woman here and do as you are told. This is the life you have been sold into. You father is not asking for you back. You are never leaving these grounds again."

Azeeza just stared at her.

As did the other three in the garden, gaping at Marie-Fey's ruthless honesty. It was almost as bad as Sobia's introduction, only minus the violence.

Azeeza had lost her voice.

She just stared at Marie-Fey, then to her letter in Zaydan's hands, then back again, and back again and again and again.

"You're lying," she whispered.

"Believe what you wish," Marie-Fey said with a dismissive flick of her fan. "Ah, but perhaps you are right. If you live long enough to one day become old enough and ugly enough, maybe you will be set free. There is something of a time limit I believe. Perhaps. Then you can run home to daddy and be welcomed with open arms – though he will likely be in his own grave by then. Until then, learn what you need to, survive and exist and be good enough in bed to earn favour – not that I see any trouble returning home soon."

"Lady Fey," Zaydan snapped.

"I don't understand," Azeeza choked out.

"Sex, girl, I'm talking about sex. Perhaps you're too young to know of it, it's hardly the topic for ladies. I don't know my husband's preference, but some wicked minds prefer them younger. Let us wish you luck he is not one of them."

"Marie-Fey!" Zaydan snarled and Marie-Fey glanced at him, "Mind your tongue about my brother. He is still your master and I am your superior. Do not dare make such suggestions in the same sentence while discussing my brother."

"Or you shall do what?" Marie-Fey asked with the charm of a throned rose, "Am I wrong in my words. She should know from the start what world she has stepped into. Just because your wretched brother never comes home does not mean this is not the fate for other girls in other grand houses. Tell me about the Sultan's collection. Have you seen them? Tell me how young they are before they get destroyed."

Zaydan was on his feet in a heartbeat and Marie-Fey was up a second later, rage flaring in both sets on eyes – ice blue warring against abyss black.

And then Azeeza's sob distracted them and they both looked down.

The girl was curled in on herself, hugging her torso like she might shake herself asunder as tears ripped from her throat and she started crying.

Marie-Fey was quiet for a moment, tapping her fan against her chin before looking at Gharam.

"Has a bed been prepared for her?"

"It is being prepared now."

"Have her settled. Run through daily life with her. Explain who everyone is. Least anyone worthwhile. Bring her something warm to drink and put her to bed."

Gharam bowed and swept to Azeeza who didn't fight her. She let Gharam guide to her to feet and walked her out, an arm around her, her cheek pressed to the top of the girl's head.

They waited until they were gone and out of sight before Zaydan rounded on Marie-Fey.

"Did you have to talk to her like that?" he spat.

Marie-Fey took two strides forwards, fast enough that her wide skirts banged into his legs and he took a step back but Marie-Fey kept coming until he held his ground and she slammed her chest into his with the force of any man throwing his dominance around.

"Do not dare turn such an accusatory tone on me when you and your country condone the slavery of a girl for sex and work at an age where innocence should still be the forefront of her life. That girl is not yet thirteen and the reality of her world is her father sold her like a cow and your brother accepted a gift and had it sent here, to waste away like all the other girls in this fucking prison, bored out of her mind until she gains rank, gets out or dies. You have the world at your feet, and no one needs to be cruel to you. There are no harsh realities in your world. There are limited harsh realities left in mine, but I remember those realities and wish someone had given me fair warning. She has not stepped into some cosy little marriage with a loving husband and content future ahead. She, like every girl here, is in for a hard, intolerant, ruthless upbringing where she will have to fight for her position and if someone tries to kill her, she'll be lucky if someone cries for the loss! So don't you dare try and take pity and coo, 'poor child, such a shame' for the five minutes your sympathy lasts when that does nothing for her survival! I am not her villain."

She slammed her hands into Zaydan's chest with enough force to knock him back.

"You are! And so help me, if you dare look at me like I am again, I will rip your goddamn eyes out!"

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Zaydan cried, gaping at her, "Have you forgotten who I am?! You cannot speak to me this way! What is the matter with you?"

Marie-Fey's answer was to hurl her fan directly at his face.

By the time he had ducked and straightened, she had grabbed her teacup, still containing hot tea, and almost rocketed it at him.

"MY LADY!" Maanah screamed in fright, diving at her, wrestling the cup from her hand as guards raced into the garden, weapons drawn, staring between the two heads of household before turning their weapons on Marie-Fey.

Marie-Fey heaved Maanah off and her strength shocked her servant, shoving her backwards.

And the next second the storm passed and Marie-Fey was settled again.

Her beautiful, haughty calm returned to her face and she eyed the guard nearest her.

He inched forwards, his sword drawn, eyeing her like he was just looking for an excuse to stab her.

Marie-Fey gave the blade an unimpressed look down her nose before returning her eyes to the guard.

"Lower that thing or I will gut you," she said, her voice so calm, the desert chilled. "You have five seconds. Five..."

Everyone remained frozen, too shocked to react.

"Four..."

"Lady Fey," Zaydan said quickly.

"Three..."

Whatever Zaydan was going to say, whatever he thought, he decided he wasn't going to take the risk to find out if Marie-Fey would actually do something. She had clearly managed to shake him up enough to make him pay attention and wipe that grin from his eyes.

"Two..."

"Lower it," he snapped and his guards sheathed their weapons in an instant and stepped back.

Marie-Fey glanced between them for a moment, then neatly folded her hands at her waist and glided out, leaving ice in her wake.