And so they continued for a week.

Every morning they breakfasted separately.

Then met for a challenge that was strung with tension and rippling tempers from their spectators.

Zaydan's men took personal offence to a woman matching their young lord.

Marie-Fey's hateful women wanted to see her take the dominance of the men down a notch as it was a moment of peace during the day where they did not have to feel threatened by the overbearing presence – protected behind a young five-foot-five lady with tiny waist, cumbersome dress and acidic mouth that spat fire at any solider who tired intimidating one of the other girls.

The first match had come back as a draw.

There had been no arrows missed after Marie-Fey's practice shots.

There were no arrows missed after either.

It became of game of who could break more arrows by driving their next shot into the previous.

A fantastic waste but it was Zaydan's time and resources for Marie-Fey to waste – so she wasted them.

The wins swung back and forth.

One the days Zaydan won, his men crowed and jeered in triumph.

When Marie-Fey won, the ladies remained silence and the sneering, arrogance of their eyes and mouths had much the same affect.

"Tell me something," Zaydan said on the seventh day, picking up his next arrow. It was, so far, his win that day.

"No," Marie-Fey replied without pause as she selected her next arrow as well.

"No, I literally mean, tell me something," Zaydan said, "Whatever you want. You told me about one brother. Tell me something else."

"No," Marie-Fey repeated, drawing her bowstring back. "I told you something. It is not my turn."

"Turn?" Zaydan said, looking at her.

Marie-Fey lined up her shot, the creak of her glove soft against her ear, eyes on the target.

Until she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, removing attention from target and firing, the new arrow slicing the previous clean in two and drawing her equal with Zaydan.

"I have no reason to give away anything to you for free," she said, lowering her bow and collecting another arrow. "I told you something in response to this gift. If you want something else, you pay for it."

Zaydan eyed her for a moment, then smiled and shot his own arrow.

It snapped his previous shot clean in two, but the shot wasn't as impressive as Marie-Fey's and she took the lead.

"What would you like to know?"

"Tell me about my husband."

"So much to tell."

"Tell me the foundation."

"Well what was your first impression?"

Marie-Fey turned on him and everyone tensed, though she didn't raise her weapon at him. "That is not amusing," she said.

Zaydan looked blankly at her.

"My first impression of my husband, since you deem it entertaining to force me to admit, is of a man absent from his own wedding," Marie-Fey snapped and Zaydan's shot went wide, slamming into the outer yellow ring as he gaped at her.

"What?" he said, staring.

Marie-Fey looked at him for a moment, then blinked, her anger receding into confusion. "You didn't know?"

"What are you talking about?" Zaydan said, dropping his bow and striding towards her as everyone tried to subtly press in to listen.

He grabbed her arm, yanking the bow from her hands and throwing it to Maanah before dragging her away from onlookers.

"Let go," Marie-Fey snapped but he looped her arm through his and pulled her onwards into the gardens where only Maanah, Gharam and two of Zaydan's closest men followed at a safe distance.

"What do you mean, absent from your wedding?" Zaydan said.

"What else would I mean? I'm hardly claiming he left his good senses behind – I don't think he had any to begin with."

"He didn't turn up at his own wedding?" Zaydan snarled and Marie-Fey stared at him – startled by his fury. "What happened?!"

"What happened? A proxy took his place – making his excuses like he was there to replace his master at a game of cards and my sister almost took the roof off the manor. Did you really not know this?"

"No, I did not know this!" Zaydan shouted, storming into one of the private gardens and planting her down on a stone bench before he started pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, their servants taking up posts beyond the boarder of the garden.

"Nor did you attend the wedding. You might have had something interesting to say about it, judging by your mood," Marie-Fey said, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on her thigh, her jaw on her palm.

"I was not permitted to attend the wedding," Zaydan seethed.

"Why is that?"

"I was called away to settle a skirmish on one of the northern fronts. I could not make it back in time to travel across to your country to attend and see you brought here. Now I see how my brother beat me back to the capital when he was the one in another country."

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the garden, staring at nothing.

"How could he?" he spat.

"You're remarkably irked by this," Marie-Fey mused.

"And you're remarkably not!" Zaydan snapped, rounding on her.

She gave him an elegant shrug. "This was two years ago. I moved on from the anger and humiliation. The proxy arrived in enough time to let us prepare for it. My older sister used our guests lack of your culture's knowledge to fabricate some wildly romantic tale that both bride and groom hide their faces during their wedding and do not see each other truly until the wedding night. Everyone found it all terribly dreamy and didn't think twice about the merger of two wedding cultures. So, no one saw my 'husband's' face, and no one is any the wiser – to that insult at least. Not even the man who married us. So, by the laws of marriage, in your country, I am married to your brother. While in my country, I am married to a random underling who passed away from an injury during a storm when we were crossing the sea the first time after the wedding."

She gave him a cold smile.

"How many women can say they are both a wife and a widow at the same time?" she sneered. "And how many husbands wield such power they can marry without being present?"

"Why did you go through with it?" Zaydan said, staring at her, "How could you stand the insult and still marry him?"

Marie-Fey looked at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side, then gave him a lovely smile. "My mistake."

Zaydan bristled for a moment, before finally letting out a breath and dropping down beside her, forearm on his thigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

"No wonder I was drawn away before I could attend," he muttered.

"Why should that play into anything?"

"Because I would have stopped the wedding and caused a scene in a rage," he said absently, "You wouldn't have married him."

"Well aren't you the charming one," Marie-Fey said rolling her eyes.

"I don't understand you."

"I'm not asking you to."

He was quiet for a long, long moment, staring up at the sky.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"For?"

"Him."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why are you sorry for him?"

He looked at her as she looked straight ahead, jaw still on her palm.

"Did you stop him from attending?"

"No."

"Did you know about the proxy?"

"No."

"Did you plan the action or the deception or maintain any knowledge of it?"

"No, you know this."

"Then why are you sorry?"

"Because... he's my brother..."

Marie-Fey straightened up. "My brothers have done awful things to people as well. One kills in the name of our kingdom. Another holds the power to destroy marriages and courtships without thinking twice. They do awful things. I will not apologise for their actions. They are reasoning adults who know what they do, whether they have a choice or not. That is their weight to bare alone. The shoulders of siblings are not there to take the blame of kin."

She pushed to her feet before Zaydan could speak and walked away to her ladies, collecting her fan from them, leaving Zaydan behind to stare at the ground.

He almost jumped when she sat back down beside him, snapping her fan open and cooling herself, displeased with the rising heat.

They sat in silence for a time, just waiting to see who would break it first.

It was Zaydan.

"So... have you... you've never even met him?"

"No, I have not," Marie-Fey said, "I have a portrait. I could not speak to its likeness."

"He looks like an older version of me."

"How disgustingly handsome."

That got a laugh out of him, relaxing the tension in his shoulders as he straightened up.

"I guess it's my turn twice now. What would you like to know?"

Marie-Fey thought about it for a time, watching a small bird that swooped through the air before landing by her fingers that were resting at her side on the bench.

"Tell me about Zaafira," she said.

He looked at her in surprise. "Not your husband?"

She waved that off. "He is of limited importance in my day to day life. Zaafira, on the other hand, might try to strange me one day."

"She won't."

"You're right. A snake bite is more her style."

"I promise, she won't hurt you."

"Too clever to do it directly."

He snorted. "I'll give you that. If she did want to get rid of someone, she would never be caught."

"You're not helping her as a suspect in my poisoning case."

"I thought she wasn't a suspect anymore."

"She's not, doesn't meet I won't change my mind for the sake of getting rid of a thorn in my side."

"Please don't."

"No?"

"She's one of my oldest friends. I would hate to lose her."

"What you love and hate is not my concern."

"I wouldn't be able to forgive you though. And you wouldn't want me as an enemy."

"You would not want me as one either," Marie-Fey said coolly, looking at him, "Is this a challenge you want to start?"

"No," he said, instantly backing down, "I know I do not want you as an enemy."

"Out of fear or some self-deluded desire to be allies?" she asked with a derisive tone.

"For the sake of your pride, I'll say fear and we'll leave it at that."

"You leave yourself on thin ice, Lord Zaydan."

"So do you but I constantly work to make it thicker so one misstep does not make you fall through."

"Your tolerance is admirable."

"So is your venom."

"You have not answered my question and I do not want to spend much longer in the sun."

"Zaafira is like you. Highly intelligent and highly aggressive. Life has not been fair to her and her hand has been forced too many times to leave her much room for kindness. She had to grow up in this palace, she grew up with women of my mother's era who made sure a girl of her beauty knew she was not worth the dirt she walked on. Rather than being cowed like many might have been, she came back at them fighting and rose to her rank through wit and power. We grew up alongside each other, both destined for futures we did not want and could not escape. She is antagonistic, manipulative and proud. She is also clever and loyal, and an ally that is once found is never lost. Of the ladies who possess factions within the palace, she is the first one I would turn to should I want someone at your side. Whatever your feelings to each other. She is a powerhouse to rival yourself and my childhood was made wonderful thanks to her presence."

Marie-Fey was watching the sky as he spoke, he watching the palace in the distance, across the gardens, shining like a jewel in the sunlight.

"That is what I can tell you about Zaafira before you grow too bored of the sun," Zaydan said.

Marie-Fey stood up and he glanced at her.

"Your loyalty to her is commendable. It is a shame she does not belong to you rather than your brother. You might have got your way."

He blinked at her. "It's not like that," he said honestly.

"Perhaps it should be," Marie-Fey said, flicking her fan closed, "Then you might take her away from me and I'll not have to suffer my existence. You can both return to your palace in the next territory over and leave me be."

"I wouldn't go," Zaydan said.

Marie-Fey sighed. "One won't come, the other won't go," she muttered, "Even Bel and Rose didn't suffer this much trouble with men."

"What?"

"I have grown tired of the heat and am walking away now," Marie-Fey said bluntly and walked away.