It was a week following the letter to her husband that Marie-Fey glided out of her apartments one morning to find the palace in uproar.

It was a form of organised chaos as people raced through the corridors, slaves cleaning everything desperately, the kitchen staff hauling huge orders of food from wagons.

Fresh flowers appeared on every surface.

The girls who excelled in music were dragged away to lessons.

Girls who excelled at dancing vanished soon after.

Everyone looked a startling degree more beautiful that morning as well.

Marie-Fey was still for a moment in the centre of the grand entrance hall as she watched the girls race back and forth then frowned.

"What, exactly, is going on here?" she said, pursing her lips.

"He's coming!" one of the younger girls shrieked in excitement, running passed.

"Excuse me?" Marie-Fey said, raising an eyebrow.

"He's on his way! His letter arrived earlier! He'll be here this evening!" someone else cried.

Marie-Fey just stared at them until she spotted Nabeela running towards her.

"I find myself a little uninformed," she said.

"We must get you ready!" Nabeela gasped, grabbing her arm, "We have not had time to prepare you to receive guests! We must hurry!"

"Who is coming?" Marie-Fey snapped, though she could feel her stomach going cold with a sense of dread as Nabeela dragged her away from the hall and on into the depths of the palace. "My husband?"

"No, not Our Lord," Nabeela said.

Marie-Fey couldn't decide if she felt more disappointment or relief.

"His brother," Nabeela continued, "His younger brother is arriving in mere hours!"

"How does that concern us?" Marie-Fey said, no longer very interested, "Why are the girls in such a tizzy? They belong to the man's older brother, what are they expecting from the younger one?"

"That remains to be seen It entirely depends on the reason for his visit," Nabeela said as they entered the grand bathhouse. Marie-Fey grimaced as she looked around.

The bathhouse was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. With white and golden walls, waterlilies and candles drifting across the surfaces of the baths. The air was perfumed with numerous scents that made the head dreamy and relaxed.

And Marie-Fey hated the place. She had her own private chamber was bathing.

She did. Not. Share.

Nabeela, like most of the girls in the palace, did not much care for Marie-Fey, but she also had the good sense to not try and aggravate her by pushing her towards one of the main baths. She opened one of the smaller, private rooms, shooing her inside as other girls who worked in the department raced in to help undress Marie-Fey have her prepared. The whole process made the hairs on her arms rise. She couldn't stand that girls other than Mannah and Gharam were allowed to see her in a state of undress. It had taken her long enough to build trust in her own personal maids and they weren't prone to gossip and judge what they saw but she could see there was a rush. Nabeela was fidgety and harassed, the other girls seemed too worked up with excitement to care about what Marie-Fey looked like, so she left them too it, letting them rub oils into her skin and scents across her hair, scrubbing at her face until it shone flawlessly.

Once she climbed out, she was dried and perfumed, her hair dusted with real gold as her makeup was applied.

Gharam appeared finally with a white and blue gown, one from her own country that made her feel more secure.

It was almost a comfort to have the corset laced up tight and the huge hooped skirts swirling around her legs as they walked back into the main palace. She even opted for the flared-sleeved jacket that went with the dress, hot though it was, as it highlighted just how tiny her waist was when corseted. She was just hooking the clasps into place as she and Graham walked out.

Zaafira walked passed her as she left, a look of disgust crossing her face as she looked Marie-Fey up and down before disappearing into the bathhouse to be prepared herself. Marie-Fey refused to give her a first glance, let alone a second.

"What exactly am I supposed to do when this man arrives?" Marie-Fey asked as she and Gharam made their way out to the garden, straightening her sleeves as they walked.

Mr. Larkin jumped down to meet her and Gharam squeaked, shooing him away before he could leave dusty handprints on her white gown.

"You're the highest-ranking woman in the palace," Gharam said, fussing over her gown, "You simply need to greet him and entertain him until he is finished with whatever business he's come to handle. He'll spend most of his time in the main palace anyway."

Marie-Fey made to sit down on the fountain edge but Gharam stopped her, setting out a small, clean white sheet before allowing her to sit down with a sigh.

"Isn't this a good thing? Something different from the day-to-day?' Gharam asked gently, sitting down beside her.

"I suppose. I am out of the practice of hosting."

"You shall be fine. You need only be charming."

Marie-Fey gave her an incredulous look out of the corner of her eye. "Am I known for my charm?" she asked, rhetorically.

Gharam answered anyway. "You are very charming, when you wish to be," she said sincerely, "You are beautiful and very clever and unafraid of anything. Someone tried to kill you a mere week ago and you appear completely unfazed. You are not afraid to stand up to those like Zaafira and you shall earn respect from the main palace. I know you believe Maanah and Zaafira to be the most beautiful in the palace, but you are just as beautiful, even without finery. I believe you shall be fine."

She fell quiet for a moment, then seemed to realise all she had said and spun to look at Marie-Fey who was looking at her with a raised an eyebrow.

Gharam's face turned red and she covered it.

"Forgive me, I spoke out of turn!" she squeaked.

Marie-Fey laughed and patted her shoulder. "You are a wonderful supporter, Gharam," she said, standing up and turning, seeing Maanah stood in one of the doorways, watching them.

Maanah's dark expression cleared as Marie-Fey looked her way.

"He shall be here soon," she said calmly, sweeping down the steps, "It's time for everyone to get ready to greet him."

"Alright, let's get on with this then," Marie-Fey said, bidding Mr. Larkin goodbye and beckoning Gharam to follow her.

They made their way back into the palace and to the grand entrance hall.

There were too many women in the palace to all fit into the hall so the most distinguished were present, which were still a fair few.

Zaafira was stood at the top of the two shorts steps, directly opposite the doors, in the most prominent position, the most visible and important.

Marie-Fey and Maanah glanced at each other, both raising an eyebrow before suppressing matching smirks and Marie-Fey swept forwards, allowed her large skirts to bump into Zaafira's legs without actually invading her personal space.

Zaafira looked around, eyes startled before irritation darkened her pretty face.

"Step back, Zaafira," Marie-Fey ordered simply.

Zaafira opened her mouth to spit acid at Marie-Fey but Nabeela's soft cough nearby made her reconsider. She wasn't in the right after all and it was below her to openly squabble.

So she stepped away, a look of hatred on her face.

"Try not to let your anger get the better of you this time, I don't want another bout of poisoning so soon after the last, it's bad for the skin," Marie-Fey said with easy charm as she stepped into place and Zaafira turned black eyes towards her.

"I told you I had nothing to do with that," she hissed under her breath.

"Yes, indeed you did," Marie-Fey replied, turning her back on her, "And I believe you."

"Then why do you keep making those petty jabs?"

"I am a petty woman."

"Yes, indeed you are," Zaafira growled and everyone's attention turned away as the main doors opened and guards marched in, looking like a force to be reckoned with and Marie-Fey couldn't say she apricated their blatant attempt to intimidate a hall full of respectable women who didn't offer any threat.

It certainly worked however as many of them, especially the younger ones subtly recoiled away, anxiety crossing their faces.

Marie-Fey could understand.

These girls so rarely interreacted with men. The ones they did interact with were slaves and known to them. These men were strangers and an obvious threat with their broad bodies, imposing gait and weapons.

Marie-Fey felt a jolt of surprise go through her when she suddenly noticed most of the girl were looking her way, watching and waiting.

She was half tempted to look behind her to make sure it wasn't Zaafira they were looking at but she could see Zaafira off to her right.

They were looking at her.

Were they honestly waiting to take their cue from her? To follow her lead?

Well that was jarring.

But alright.

She hadn't felt particularly intimidated by the men – nothing more than the natural wariness of any woman who was faced with someone much bigger and stronger than herself. That baseline natural instinct that warned her to stay alert because she could be hurt, even if it was unlikely.

But she had been raised around men like this.

Her family had guards and staff.

She had lived amongst the royal family who couldn't go five feet without guards. She knew her brother's army colleagues.

These men were no different but clearly not everyone here had that instant comfort of knowing where she stood.

So she straightened her spine still further, lifting her with settled her expression into calm authority, so that everyone was aware that she knew herself to be above these men who were merely visiting her palace and the women who lived within these walls were above the threat of such people.

The move did not go unnoticed and there was a soft shift amongst the girls as they moved to copy her. She even spied an approving upturn of the mouth from Zaafira as she straightened her shoulders and looked down at the men – which was quite possibly the most jarring thing of the entire morning.

She was distracted however when, as one, the men all turned towards her, and bowed and two figures strode into the hall.

One was another officer, probably the head of the escort guard, the personal guard of the younger master of the state.

He stayed one respectful step behind even as he conversed with his lord.

His lord behind one, Zaydan Rias, second son of the family Marie-Fey married into.

It was the first time she had ever seen him, but he was much as she would have expected – though perhaps better looking than she would have assumed – and yet the sight of him surprised her.

Blessed with extremely good looks, he was tall and lithe, long legs carrying him with a surprising lightness, body moving with natural strength. His black hair had a slight curl to it, the waves bouncing around eyes as dark and sharp as night, so intense they stood out like jewels against his warm skin which was neither dark nor pale, but somewhere comfortably in between.

He was speaking to his guard, easy smile on his face, highlighting his sharp jaw and cheekbones as he spoke, his black eyes on Marie-Fey the entire time, eyeing her as he walked down the hall like he owned the place.

Marie-Fey hated him on sight.

Who the hell was this bastard to stride into her palace with the cocky arrogance a mother should have smacked out of a boy in childhood, watching her with that judgemental gaze like he was looking at vermin who had the nerve to be in his own home?

The fact that this was his home, having grown up within these walls, and that he wasn't judging her with any negativity but mere curiosity and Marie-Fey was more than a little scathing to her husband's continued absence even after her last letter and was thus taking it out on the unfortunate brother who happened to show up was neither here nor there.

The good looks and natural arrogance weren't what surprised her however. It was what he wore.

He wore a smart, tailored suit that would be at home in the gentlemen's clubs and high society parlours back home. And he looked comfortable in it. He was used to wearing such an outfit.

But it was as impractical an outfit for this country as her own gowns.

But she wore her gowns like a safety blanket. They made her feel protected and more confident.

That was unlikely the case here for him.

Why?

Why had he chosen to return home in that outfit?

She blinked.

He was wearing it to make her feel comfortable. Or to throw her off balance. Or both. Something familiar in a land that wasn't – though it was two years too late to be trying to make her feel at home.

He was greeting a woman he assumed was miserable and homesick – which was true. And he was trying to help. He was trying to take on the role of someone familiar and on her side.

He may be used to wearing such clothing, for whatever reason, but he wasn't wearing it because it was his usual state of dress.

How annoying.

She could feel her mouth beginning to twist in disgust.

But then decided on a different tactic.

She gave him a smile that would have hypnotised men into courtship like a switch was flipped.

The dazzling smile almost made both men falter.

Even the ladies around her raised an eyebrow, having not seen a smile like that before – or really any smiles.

"Lord Zaydan," she said, taking hold of her skirts and curtsying low, everyone else following her lead. "A pleasure to finally meet the man who is my brother-in-law. It is an honour to see you."

Zaydan Rais recovered himself and met her blazing smile with one of his own, which had far too much sunshine and beauty in it, before he bowed to her.

"Marie-Fey," he said – she wanted to instantly remind him that he had no right to use her first name without a single honorific but held her tongue.

He straightened, sweeping up the two steps until he was directly in front of her and she automatically took a step back, allowing her skirts to spring back into place, her personal space restored as she looked up at him.

"I'm glad to see you're looking so well," Zaydan continued, and he was examining her, his smile not reaching his eyes as he took in her eyes and skin.

"Yes," Marie-Fey said, "I recover fast."

"So I see," he said, before looking to his left and smiling. "Zaafira," he said, turning.

Marie-Fey looked around and Zaafira bowed low again, smiling as she straightened.

"It's wonderful to see you again, My Lord. How is the capital?"

"Well. Everything is well." He looked back to Marie-Fey as he said, "My brother is in good form."

"I'm glad to hear it," Marie-Fey said with flawless cheer, as if she really were. She wasn't sure if this man had read her letter to his brother. She had to assume he had. "Tell, Lord Zaydan, will you be staying here long, or shall you return to the main palace. You must be tired from your journey. Why not rest for a time?"

"I'll be staying here for a time."

Well damn it all.

"In fact my first and second order of business regard yourself."

"Oh yes?" Marie-Fey said, her tone wary.

"Indeed. First, I have a gift for you."

Marie-Fey's brow rose.

Not another bloody gift. She'd had to actually open this one.

Zaydan turned away, back towards the main doors and let out a shrill whistle.

Silence followed for a moment, then a shout of surprise and shock from men out of sight.

Everyone turned towards the doors in surprise.

Then a shriek rang out and Marie-Fey's eyes widened at the sound, right before a falcon soared through the doors, her blinder headwear hanging around her neck, her piercing scream echoing through the hall.

"For goodness sake," Zaydan hissed under his breath, his eyes shooting toward the doors where more of his men appeared, looking flustered and panicked, everyone forgetting that they weren't actually allowed to see the women present as they all watched the falcon whirl overhead.

"Aya!" Marie-Fey cried out in shock.

Her falcon looked down, spiralling towards her then taking off again when she didn't raise her arm.

She couldn't without her arm being torn up.

"Maanah. Maanah, my gloves," she rushed out.

Maanah was about to run back to her rooms when Zaydan stopped her, one of his men rushing forwards with a falconer's glove.

"Let me," he said, about to put the glove on when Marie-Fey took it from him. It wasn't her size but it would do for the time.

She shoved her hand into the heavy glove, ignoring Zaydan's surprised look before letting out a shrill whistle.

Aya circled high above before diving.

She landed on Marie-Fey's arm with all the contentment of a child taking residence on their favourite chair. With a ruffle of her feathers, she settled and Gharam rushed forwards to properly untie the blinder from her neck, gently slipping it back into place.

Marie-Fey smiled, brushing her other hand down the falcon's feathers, then finally returned her attention to the hall.

The women looked ever the same. They had known Aya for a while after all.

The men looked... less settled.

Marie-Fey looked at Zaydan.

"Thank you for returning her to me."

Zaydan only took a moment for silence, before nodding to her.

"I understand you were missing her," he said.

"Indeed."

"Understandable. And, in fact, that brings me onto my second order of business. To talk with you, Lady Marie-Fey."

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at him.

He smiled at her.

It wasn't exactly a nice smile this time.

"We have certain correspondences to discuss," he said and it sounded like a threat.

Marie-Fey stared at him for a moment then she gave him her own smile.

Unthreatened and unwavering as she met his gaze head-on.

"How intriguing," she replied through her grin. "Alright, Lord Zaydan. Let's talk."