"My Lady, you have a letter from Our Lord."

Marie-Fey snapped her reading material down on the table with a strike, making Maanah wince, a rare sight.

"What does he want?" Marie-Fey said darkly.

"He wishes to know how you are faring."

"Fine," she spat, turning to her writing desk.

"My Lady?"

"What?"

"You may wish to read the letter this time."

Marie-Fey looked back at her. "Oh yes?"

Maanah walked over and set the letter down in front of her.

Marie-Fey glanced at it, then sighed. "I don't have the energy for this," she muttered, her fingers pressing against her forehead.

"Shall I bring it back later?" Maanah asked, "When you feel stronger? It's only been two days."

Marie-Fey eyed the letter for a moment, then sighed and leant back in her chair. "No, better to get it done with now," she said and snatched it up.

She didn't read these letters anymore, they always said the same thing. If they ever said anything different, Maanah or Gharam would make a note for her to register the difference in her reply.

For Maanah to decide that she needed to read it herself this time peaked her interest, just a little. It was too early for him to know about her attack, so she couldn't guess what he might want to say.

'To my dearest wife,' it started, and she snorted.

"An optimistic start," she muttered before starting again.

To my dearest wife,

I pray this letter finds you well. Work keeps me ever busy, but I am honoured to hear you liked the gifts I sent for you. I'm afraid I agonised over them somewhat as I still cannot make guesses at what you may like to receive.

Two years and I still do not know my wife.

I know this blame lies with me. And your letters continue to grow shorter and shorter as the months go on – I fear I may never hear from you one day.

So, before that happens, I would ask you write me a reply.

A real reply.

Tell me how you really fair.

Do not hold back. Do not fear of insult or backlash.

Tell me.

Tell me something of the woman I married.

Your ever-faithful husband.

Marie-Fey pursed her lips at the letter, her cheek on her knuckles as she reread it. Flicking her eyes up to look through her lashes at Maanah, she raised an eyebrow.

"What, exactly, has spurred this man on to take an interest?" she asked.

Maanah just shook her head with an elegant shrug.

"How honest should I be?"

"However honest you so wish to be, My Lady."

Marie-Fey looked down at the letter, then smiled – though it wasn't a particularly warm smile.

"Alright," she said, leaning forwards and picking up her quill, "If he so wishes to know who his wife is, let us show him."

To my absent husband,

You take me by surprise with this letter. I did not think you cared for any real honesty when my original letters two years ago were always met with such detached disinterest.

I do hope this is not a mere passing curiosity, to feign interest every couple of years so your pretty little wife is assured she is not forgotten. I can do well without such mindless communications.

But, since you requested that I tell you how I really am, this one time, I shall tell you.

Currently I am sat in my rooms recovering from an assassination attempt some two nights passed. Seeing as I am writing to you, I am clearly still alive and I do not need your concern. There is little you can do from the capital as it is.

It was a poisoning, we believed consumed through a tea I drank before sleep. According to my doctor, I should be dead but I am clearly made of stronger stuff than my would-be-killer anticipated.

Currently an investigation has been launched through my palace and the main palace to uncover what we can about where the poison might have come from and who might be involved. I think their hope was to incriminate one of my maids as she brought the drink to me.

The issue is being handled.

As for your gifts. Well frankly, I could not tell you which have and have not pleased me, I have not opened them. I have enough material products to amuse me, perhaps I shall open them when the rain eventually comes and I cannot go outside.

On the subject of gifts, however, why did you send me a camel? What am I to do with the wretched thing? Race him? Eat him? I currently have him plodding around the gardens scaring the other ladies if they wander too close.

And on the subject of wildlife – desired or otherwise – return Aya to me this instant. I have been in the country long enough that she should be returned home.

I am also too hot. This damned country is so unforgiving, I don't know how you and your people stand it! Surrounded by sand, unable to escape without an entire caravan to help, it makes for a miserable prison.

Especially when that prison hosts numerous women who do not care for your company.

Make no mistake, I have not tried to make friends with these ladies. I grew tired of them dismissing me within the first three months on my confinement. I almost delight in making them dislike me, it is better than arrogant dismissal as they turn their noses up at me.

I do miss your mother, however. She was a truly good woman. Clever and gone long before her time. I wish I had known her for longer. Much, much longer. She would find my apparent killer within the week.

I also miss my family. I hate being here and I want to go home every time I have to return. I dislike being so far away. I already live in fear that my youngest brother will be killed in battle. I resent that I shall not be home should the news come. I am miles and miles away, awaiting a letter only to discover he was killed three months before and the funeral has already passed. It's a ridiculous superstition but if I am home, I can somehow stop him from being taken from us.

I hate that I am here while the others are readying for the birth of another nephew, or possibly a niece.

My eldest brother might be falling in love as we speak and I do not know anything of it.

My eldest sister is hosting so many grand events this year during the season and I shan't attend a single one.

My middle brother can no longer regale me with his ridiculous, shameless escapades that I shall never approve of though they will always make me laugh.

I am, in essence, lonely.

And bored.

And homesick.

And humiliated that I have been abandoned by the man I unwisely chose to marry.

I hope this letter comes as something of a shock and I do not care for you to do anything about it. I am not interested in your pity. Continue with your work in the capital. Keep your territories strong and impressive. Let me boast that I am married to one of the most powerful men in the country.

But do not shower me with false concern and passing interest.

I am no more interested in you then you are in me.

So stop asking me how I am faring because I shall not tell you the truth and we both know you prefer it that way.

Your wife in legality alone,

Marie-Fey.

Marie-Fey signed off and leant back, rereading the letter.

She laughed slightly and handed it to Maanah to read.

Maanah's brow rose so high it almost vanished under her fringe.

"You wish to send something so blunt?" she asked, startled as Gharam walked in, carrying some recently cleaned dresses.

She handed Gharam the letter, who read it quickly and dropped the clothes in shock.

Marie-Fey laughed and took the letter back, sealing it.

"Why not? He asked. I am in a spiteful mood – near death can do that to a lady – let him read something honest for a change. I haven't written my real feelings to him for months."

"But... but what if this angers him?" Gharam asked, "You have admitted to ignoring his gifts. To disliking him! You're questioning him. What if he punishes you?"

Marie-Fey chuckled. "Well, at least it will tell me something of my husband."