"What is the point of this palace?"

Maanah looked around from where she was clearing away the plates from Marie-Fey's dinner.

Marie-Fey was sprawled on huge cushions that littered the floor, a book in her lap.

"My Lady?" she asked, glancing at Gharam.

"What is the point?" Marie-Fey repeated, "From what I know of such palaces, they are places where powerful men collect women so that they have the best opportunity for successful offspring. Such women are slaves – excluding the wife, if he has one. But for there to be any offspring at all, the man must at least show up to get the job done. He can't well send someone in his place for that."

Gharam had gone red with the topic.

"And yet from what I can tell, our dear old 'Master' has never set foot in this palace. What's the point in collecting women? We're not ornaments. I'm at least married but what of all the other ladies here – you two included. You could marry, have families. If you have any luck you could possibly travel. The women of this palace are not stupid. They are all highly educated, talented and pretty and can do something with their lives. But they're stuck here, waiting on a ghost of a master to make them pregnant."

"My Lady," Gharam squeaked and Marie-Fey rolled her eyes.

"My point is, what is the point of having a collection if the man never uses it?" Marie-Fey said, flipping her book up again to turn the page. "Is he not interested in women? Perhaps he favours men."

"My Lady!" Maanah snapped, spinning around, "You cannot speak of your lord and master like that!"

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at her. "And who is going to stop me? Him? My phantom lord?" She laughed. "Maybe that's it, he prefers the company of men to women and we are an elaborate coverup. I must say, there are cheaper ways to do it."

"How can you speak so freely of such things?" Maanah cried, staring at her.

Marie-Fey looked up.

"Questioning your husband! Talk of pregnancy. Such... such forbidden relationships between people! How can you talk so freely? Aren't you ashamed?"

"What, exactly, do I have to be ashamed of?" Marie-Fey asked, frowning at her, eyes dark.

She threw her book aside and pushed to her feet.

"M-My Lady," Gharam stammered as Marie-Fey looked at Maanah who stood stiff and trembling, though not from any sense of fear.

"I am a wife who will never produce children," Marie-Fey said calmly, "I am neglected and forgotten by my husband. Me and all the other women in this pretty little prison. Do you realise what an embarrassment that is to me each time I return home and am faced with the new, horrible little offspring of my friends and their partners? To them, it means I have failed somewhere. I have a mind sharp as any man but in both this kingdom and my own I may not use it because I possess this body. This body is designed to bear children and I discuss it in the company of women, there is no shame in the discussion of pregnancy when it is the foundation of this species. I am denied the use of my head and my body. What do I have to be ashamed of when I resent the fact that I am being wasted here? To feel ashamed implies that one has done something wrong. I am not ashamed because I am not the one who has done any wrong."

Maanah had no reply to that small speech. She just glared at her until Marie-Fey spun away and swept out onto the balcony.

Flinging herself onto the lounge, she blew out the soft lanterns, bathing herself in moonlight, eyes travelling to the sandy sea beyond the city.

The clinks and chinks of her maids finishing cleaning away echoed out to her and she was glad that Maanah didn't try to continue the discussion nor come grovelling out after her.

Zaafira would have had Maanah dismissed on the spot for speaking up like that, or worse. An outspoken girl might not walk away. But then no one would snap at Zaafira. No one would dare.

No one would dare sneer at her or question her or be confounded by her.

She watched without seeing as the moonlight wandered across the balcony, her thoughts turning homewards, to those private moments when she had been allowed to use her mind to its fullest in the company of her father and siblings, during debates through dinners or discussions over tea. How she had argued the finer points of business with Valentine, creating scenarios and actions and seeing who could build their empire and bankrupt the other first. How Rosalia and Constantine had poured over works of literature for hours, wrapped in their own bubble of discussion. How Antoinette and Beldon had travelled so deep into the psyche of the human mind, the others became concerned they were planning the downfall of their social rivals by psychologically crippling them.

How their father had encouraged their ever-expanding knowledge. Over the years, he had become stricter and more traditional, but knowledge had never been something to turn away from. So what a waste to not be able to frequently use that and also not be able to use her body for her biological purpose and then be told she should be ashamed of her own thoughts and opinions.

"My Lady?"

Marie-Fey blinked and her eyes flicked to the little clock on the side table she kept at her elbow when out on the balcony.

Two hours had passed!

She looked around to see Maanah stood in the doorway, eyes downcast.

"What?" she said.

"Night is drawing on. Would you like to retire?" Maanah asked.

"No, I don't think I shall," Marie-Fey said, turning away. "Light the lamps for me again."

Maanah disappeared inside and returned with a flame, lighting the lamps before stepping back and standing there, not leaving.

Marie-Fey finally sighed and looked at her. "What?" she asked again.

"I'm sorry," Maanah muttered.

"Why are you sorry?" Marie-Fey asked.

"I didn't realise you felt that way," Maanah said.

"And why are you apologising for that?"

"Because I should have noticed."

"Why? You're just a slave."

Maanah looked up.

"It's not your duty to be concerned with the emotional wellbeing of your mistress. You just do as she says. You cannot do anything about it."

"But I am concerned," Maanah said.

"Well I appreciate that," Marie-Fey said, turning away, "It is good to know someone cares."

"I do care. It is why I worry when you speak so brazenly. Even if it's just to me or Gharam. I do not when the women of this palace to have any more reason to dislike you and they will find reasons, whether they are just or not."

"Don't worry about me, Maanah," Marie-Fey sighed, "It doesn't bother me."

"I just don't want you hurt."

"I know."

Maanah seemed to struggle with what to say next.

"Would you like some tea, My Lady? Gharam asked softly, coming to the rescue, sticking her head out of the archway.

Marie-Fey was silent for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "Why not?" she said, standing up, "I suppose it is late. I guess it would be wiser to retire for the night."

Maanah smiled slightly and stepped back, allowing Marie-Fey to pass.

She helped Marie-Fey change while Gharam went to collect fresh tea and was just climbing into bed when she returned, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

She grimaced slightly, looking at the tea.

"Is it alright?" Gharam asked quickly.

"Yes, fine. A little bitter... I miss the tea from home tonight, it seems," Marie-Fey said, settling back against her pillows.

"I shall see about ordering in tea from your homeland," Gharam said.

Marie-Fey nodded, her eyes drifting to the windows at she took another sip.

"Maybe I'll bring you two with me when I next travel home," she said and her maids looked up, startled. "Seems only proper to bring my personal staff. The girls back home really just don't have your way with my hair, Maanah."

Maanah hid her smile with a bow of the head.

"Go on then, you may retire for the night," Marie-Fey said, waving them off.

"Good night, My Lady," both girls said, bowing to her before they dowsed the lights and slipped away to their own quarters.

Marie-Fey finished her tea and set the cup aside, blowing out the final lamp beside her.

She settled back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.

She didn't know when but, at some point, she must have fallen asleep.

Because the next moment she was waking up to cold moonlight illuminating her room.

And a man stood in the shadows of one corner.