Marie-Fey did not sleep when that first night in the palace.

And she couldn't figure out why until the following morning.

It wasn't that her room were unpleasant. It had been styled to merge the two cultures together – a real clash of styles that somehow worked. Whoever Zaydan had called in to handle the interior design truly had an eye and talent.

So her apartments were comfortable.

The food was as good as the women's palace, unsurprisingly. Her food tasters had been brought over before dinner and breakfast and neither of them had keeled over yet.

The general atmosphere of the palace was calm, peaceful and quiet.

So Marie-Fey unleashed Mr. Larkin into the entrance hall and Barnaby into the gardens while Aya soared in and out of the open windows of the towers, shrieking as she and Mr. Larkin argued – they had a tenuous relationship that meant they knew they weren't allowed to kill one another but they were still aware of the predator/prey dynamic.

The scream that unleashed from a servant when Mr. Larkin tore out of the banquet hall settled Marie-Fey's nerves.

That was better.

It was far too quiet in this palace.

She would have to have the girls from the palace file in and out. As much as she couldn't stand them most of the time, they created noise and she wasn't used to a lack of it. The silence was almost more intolerable than their nonsense.

Lord, she already needed to go home and see her family.

Soon.

It would be good to finally get back and check on Rosalia and the pregnancy. She wondered if it would be twins again. Matthias and Marcas were already a handful, another pair would be a nightmare. What if it were more boys? Now that would be a noisy household.

"Good lord, look at that smile!"

Marie-Fey jumped – then cursed Zaydan and all his unborn children for getting the best of her and catching her off guard as she swept into the blue parlour.

He was sprawled on one of the sofas, a book open on his stomach – reminding her very much of Constantine and his complete lack of composure.

"Are you smiling because you are finally plotting my murder or are you smiling because you are actually happy about something for once?"

"I am smiling because I am happily continuing the plotting of your murder," Marie-Fey said, walking across to the door and opening them. "Don't be so naïve as to assume I haven't already plotted out at least three potential deaths that could be construed as accidents and four more that would be harder to explain away. Tell me, what's your thoughts out plain old stabbing?"

"Hmmm, very traditional. The great romantic death – up there with poison – but so very messy. You'd ruin the furniture."

"You make an excellent point."

Zaydan spun around so he was sitting upright, flinging his book aside and smiling that smile that could light up the sky – Marie-Fey almost flung the book back in his face, but that would require crossing the room and picking it up.

Instead she swept her skirts aside and took a seat at the grand piano, flipping open the lid.

"Ah! You're going to regale me with a serenade?" he said, beaming.

"I'm going to trap your fingers under the piano lid. Why are you here? You have two palaces to choose from in this complex. You have your own palace elsewhere. And you have the capital. Go bother someone else."

"But I wish to bother you."

"Trampled by horses?"

"Too hard to ensure I would stay put without tying me down and the ropes would raise questioning eyebrows and nosey investigations."

Marie-Fey sighed. "Maybe I'll just have you abandoned in the dessert."

Zaydan's smile flashed wicked and cold for a split second before returning to sunny-charm. "Now there's an idea," he said, his voice not quite matching his smile.

Marie-Fey narrowed her eyes at him and his next words were warm again.

"So, you're a pianist."

"As anyone of good breeding should be."

"Won't you please play me something? Sixteen bars?"

"No, I'm not talented enough to perform. You want my youngest brother for that."

"The infamous Beldon, yes, I've been told," Zaydan replied, though he didn't sound particularly interested. "Fine, do you sing?"

"Of course."

"Then can I persuade you to—"

"Ask Beldon if you ever meet him, he's an extortionary tenor."

She watched Zaydan purse his lips out of the corner of her eye.

"Away from music then," he said, "Your other accomplishments. How about art? Are you artistically inclined?"

"When forced. But if you wish to see true artistic talent, you need to see—"

"I swear, if I 'need to see' Beldon."

Marie-Fey looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "I was going to say Constantine," she said, "My second brother can't stay still for long unless you give him paint and canvas. Beldon's artistic talents warrant his hanging."

"Indeed... dancing?"

"Rosalia. She's an impossibly beautiful dancer. Even when she was heavily pregnant with her twins, she could dance like she weighed nothing."

She realised how inappropriate it was to talk about her sister's pregnancy in front of a man but perhaps it would make him uncomfortable and he would leave.

Which of course it didn't – she wasn't sure he could be made uncomfortable – and he just carried on.

"Then your airs and graces," Zaydan said, "How a young woman carries herself is paramount – all other accomplishments come second to a woman who cannot hold herself. And I have seen how you carry yourself."

"Yes, but I learnt that from Antoinette, my eldest sister. She had to quickly learn how to carry herself to ensure no one would second guess her. In regard to posture and aura, she is second to none."

She could see that something about the conversation was frustrating Zaydan – though she couldn't say what, as entertaining as it was. She was only telling the truth.

"Language!" he said, straightening, "That is another high accomplishment for those of good society."

"Valentine," Marie-Fey said, "He has an ear for them. Very useful for my father. He trades with so many countries and Valentine means they cannot gossip in a language my father cannot understand."

"Well what can you do better than your siblings?" Zaydan snapped.

She frowned at him. "Nothing," she said simply, "I am accomplished in everything and superior in none."

Zaydan narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't believe you," he said, leaning back and crossing his legs.

"What is there to not believe? There are six in my family. Someone has to be ordinary."

Zaydan just shook his head. "I refuse to use Marie-Fey and ordinary in the same sentence."

"You just did."

"Quick wit and clever mind, that's an accomplishment."

"Beldon."

"Uuuugh, I'm going to have to meet this man," Zaydan sighed, dropping his head back on the sofa.

"Beldon is—"

"I'm not interested in Beldon," Zaydan said, straightening again and Marie-Fey looked at him in near-confusion – she wasn't sure she'd ever heard that before. "I want to know more about you. You are accomplished in everything. I know language is a skill."

"I only ever speak one language, what are you talking about?"

"Yes, you speak your own flawlessly. You also speak fluently with Azeeza. And you understand mine."

"No I don't," Marie-Fey said, frowning at him. "When have you ever heard me speak your language?"

"I haven't heard you speak it. I've seen you read it."

Marie-Fey frowned, thinking. Before remembering Azeeza's letter from her father. She had read it before handing it over to Zaydan and translating the words for Azeeza.

That was careless.

"I haven't told anyone that you can understand us," Zaydan said, shifting towards the edge of the sofa, forearms on thighs, "You have your secrets and reasons for keeping quiet, I'm sure."

Marie-Fey pursed her lips. "Indeed," she muttered, "I suppose it will assure you do not talk about me behind my back while I'm in earshot."

"I never talk about you behind your back," he said, sounding remarkably honest, "At least I've never said anything bad."

"I can't imagine what good you have to say about the woman openly plotting your murder."

"She has a wonderful imagination."

Marie-Fey rolled her eyes and turned back to the piano, then jumped as Zaydan suddenly set himself down on the seat beside her – sitting on her skirts!

She wrenched them free and flowered at him.

"What do you think you're doing!?"

"Shall we play together? If you refuse to play alone for me?" Zaydan said, grinning and she stared at him.

"You play piano?"

"Yes. I sound like I'm murdering the poor thing but I play. I'll sing for you though. I'm awfully good at that."

"I refuse to hear it. I'm too used to listen to B—"

"Don't say his name!"

Maire-Fey gaped at him. "What on earth do you have against my brother?" she snapped, "if you have an issue with him, you had better tell me now so I can decide whether your presence is worth my time. I'll have you know people will resort to sabotage to be in his company and you refuse to hear this name?!"

"I have nothing against the man himself," Zaydan said, folding his arms and looking at her, "I've never met him, how can I judge when all I hear are rumours. I dislike the look that appears in your eyes when you talk about him."

"What are you talking about?"

"In fact I spied in each time you mentioned a sibling. It's unacceptable."

"What look? I have no look."

"You do. You look like you're talking about someone so much better than yourself. Like you're less than them. As if they're somehow better."

"But they are," Marie-Fey said, looking at him like he was an idiot and he looked at her like she had physically hurt him.

"How can you say that?" he said.

"You simply haven't met them," Marie-Fey said, turning, eyes closed even as she settled her fingers on the keys. "You'll understand if you meet them."

"I refuse to believe you are any less than they are."

"Believe what you will, you have not met them."

He was silent for a moment, looking at her. "If nothing else, I am quite sure you are the bravest."

Marie-Fey laughed at the idea.

"How can you not be?! You married into a culture completely removed from your own. You moved to a different country without any staff. You survived the palace and all manner of difficulties I have no doubt you've overcome. You act like you are not afraid of anything. How are you not the bravest?"

"Perhaps in any other family I might be considered the bravest," Marie-Fey said, "But some of my family have done far more than simply move into a life of lavish luxury a few miles from home."

"What? What could they have possibly done?"

"Well Beldon—" she started and Zaydan jumped up, covering his ears.

"La, la, la! I refuse to hear his name while you claim him better than yourself! No!" he cried, storming straight out of the parlour like a child.

Marie-Fey stared after him for a moment, then grinned.

"Beldon, you clever brat, you've become a weapon," she said, delighted just as Gharam walked in, regarding Mr. Larkin, and Marie-Fey gestured for her to join so she could learn something of the piano.