Marie-Fey's feet were bleeding by the time she got home. Her dancing heels were not designed for long walks. Her golden gown was not designed for dusty streets. Her very being was not designed to be out without escort on dark, rowdy nights.

Whatever those around her saw on her face as she walked however had her felt alone and no one spoke a word to her until she was into the quiet streets that surrounding the family's estate. No one approached her until she was spotted by the gate keeper at the end of the manor drive and he launched from his post to drag the smaller side gate open for her.

"Ma'am!" he cried, horrified.

Marie-Fey went straight past, not stopping, not slowing, eyes fixed on the lights of the manor ahead, moving in one of the parlour windows proceeding the doors flying open as one of her maids appeared, gaping at her.

"Miss Marie-Fey!" she cried in horror as Marie-Fey limped up the steps, "What happened?! Where is your carriage? Your family?"

"I left early," Marie-Fey replied, walking past, finally stepping out of her shoes as she went and she heard her maid's cry of shock.

"Miss! Blood!" she started but Marie-Fey kept going, past the marble entrance hall, through the house, out the doors into the garden and on towards the lake.

She didn't stop until she rounded the corner to the gazebo where she'd sat with Zaydan and froze.

She had expected Zaydan to still be out with friends.

She had expected quiet and silence.

Instead Zaydan was sat in the gazebo, several lamps set out around him, a telescope pointed toward the sky, star charts, quills and inks lying around him as he peered up at the starry skies, quill posed to add something knew to the chart in his hand.

"Zaydan," she gasped and he launched into the air in fright, spinning to stare at her before grabbing his pages and shoving them aside.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, capping the ink pot at his elbow so he didn't spill it. "I didn't expect you back until late!"

"Why are you here?" Marie-Fey snapped in reply, "Why are you already back!?"

Zaydan opened his mouth to answer, then paused, his brow creasing at her looked at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"" Marie-Fey howled and clamped her hands to her mouth to silence the sound that echoed across the empty, quiet grounds.

Zaydan stared at her.

Then pushed his work aside, freeing up all the space on the cushioned benches and gesturing for her to step into the gazebo.

Marie-Fey just shook her head.

"Did you return alone?" he asked.

She nodded, the movement sharp and harsh.

"You can't have been gone more than a couple of hours. Did you enjoy it?"

She shook her head.

Zaydan's brow creased and he looked genuinely so concerned over her obvious distress she almost wanted to start crying again.

"Shall I leave?" he asked, "Do you want me to go away?"

Marie-Fey looked at him for a long, long, long time, then flicked her eyes to the telescope. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Zaydan glanced to the telescope, and the lamplight revealed his skin around his cheeks darkening slightly. "I... ur... was just studying the stars."

"Why?"

The flush across his skin deepened. "Just... because," he said lamely.

Marie-Fey was silent for a moment.

Zaydan was silent in return, waiting to take his lead from her.

"Show me," she finally said.

He blinked, tilting his head to the side as she stepped up into the gazebo.

"Show me your work, teach me something new," she said.

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"Because I need to learn something new," she replied.

He just frowned at her.

"I need to learn when my head won't settle" she said, as she took a seat near him, "I need to learn something, something that makes me think, something that focuses my attention. I need to learn, teach me something."

Zaydan opened his mouth to ask.

To ask why her head wouldn't settle.

To ask what had happened.

Only he didn't.

He paused, then reached down to one of the large sheets of paper at his feet, spreading it out between them and moving the lamp over.

"I don't know much that I can teach you, I just track what I can see, then remember what I write," he said.

"Why?" Marie-Fey asked.

"Because then I always know where I am," he said, "And if I know where I am, I can find my way back home."

"Have you been lost before?" Marie-Fey asked, glancing at him.

He thought about it for a moment as he brushed his fingers along the star chart.

"I think I still am," he muttered.

She lifted her head to look at him properly.

"The stars can't help me," he continued without looking up, "But it makes me feel a little less adrift."

Marie-Fey frowned at him then they both looked around at the sound of soft footsteps proceeding a maid as she appeared, carrying soft cloth, bandaging and a pair of Marie-Fey's slippers.

"What's this" Zaydan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Forgive me for intruding, but I thought it better to attend to The Mistress's feet sooner rather than later," the maid said as she bobbed a curtsy.

"Feet?" Zaydan asked, confused and Marie-Fey grimaced.

She reached down and pulled her skirts up a little, just to see how bad they actually were and Zaydan choked back a gasp.

He shoved to his feet and strode to the maid, smiling gratefully at her.

"Thank you, I'll take care of her," he said.

The maid gaped at him.

"B— but," she stammered.

"Really, I will, thank you," Zaydan said, taking her burdens off her, "Please continue with your other duties, I'll see that the lady is well."

The maid darted a look at Marie-Fey, waiting for her instructions.

Marie-Fey almost suppressed a sigh, then let it out and waved her away. "Leave him to it, if he wants to play medic," she said.

The maid hesitated a moment longer, then bobbed again and hurried away.

"Lady Fey," Zaydan growled, spinning around, almost spilling the water.

"Oh shut up," Marie-Fey grumbled.

"What the hell happened this evening?" he said, stalking towards her and setting the bowl down hard on the ground, slicking the cloth across her lap before folding himself to the floor, crossing his long legs and holding out a hand.

She glared at him.

"Foot," he ordered.

"Go away, I can do it myself."

"Give me. Your foot."

"I said. Go away."

"If you don't give it to me, I'll reach under there and find your foot myself."

"If you stick your hand up my skirt, I'll punch you so hard you won't be able to find your way into next week, let alone find your way home."

Zaydan glowered back at her for a moment, then grabbed the end of her skirt.

She made to kick him, he grabbed her ankle and caught her other foot when she went after him.

"This isn't funny!" she snapped.

"I'm not trying to be funny," he replied, "This is important. Your feet hurt, you've had a bad night, let me deal with it."

"They're my feet! I can do it!"

"Just let me take care of you, Marie-Fey," he said, his voice so soft, so gentle it shot up her spine like lightning, making her want to choke and freeze.

Zaydan released one foot, pulling down one of the cloths and soaking it, before gently pressing the warm water to her swelling heel.

The sob Marie-Fey almost released shocked her. It came without warning and she barely managed to choke it down, hands flying to her mouth again as she bowed her head.

Zaydan glanced up but didn't say anything, looking away again and continuing to slowly, carefully, wipe away the mess on her feet, wrapping them in warm cloth and ever-so-softly massaging the pain, working steadily and quietly, somehow giving her her privacy even why inches from her.

Eventually he dried her feet, picked up the soft slippers and slid them into place before getting to his feet and taking the bowl away, tipping the content out and returning, neatly folding the cloth and setting it all aside.

Then he dropped back down to the floor in front of her, crossed his legs and folded his arms on her knees, chin on his arms as he looked up at her.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Everyone knows my husband has abandoned me," Marie-Fey whispered, her head bowed so low it almost touched Zaydan's.

"How so?"

"Zaafira," she replied, twisting the name, making it ugly, "There are ladies... people who hate me. I haven't done anything to them more than be born a Leigh and marry into great wealth. But they still hate me. I'm the worst, you see. The worse of the Leigh Siblings. The least beautiful. The least talented. The least intelligent. I have a mean personality and nothing good to make up for it. But I'm still revered because of my name. I haven't done anything to earn my status in society. I didn't do anything to earn the marriage I achieved. But I still have it all. And they hate me. I think they hate us all, but out of all of us, they can't forgive me for being a Leigh, I have to fail. I have to fail in a way that sets me below them all, not just my siblings. And Zaafira told them he didn't want me. That he has no time for me. The reason he never shows up... the reason he never comes here... it's not that he's busy, it's not that he's caught up with the Sultan, he just doesn't care... at all. And he never did. And all this time... Those two years, I managed to deflect their prying, pull away, hide that I was a failure in marriage. Everyone suspected but no one knew anything. No one could prove anything. And then Zaafira... a lady from his court... she just... she just tells them, so easily. Bringing it all down in a second... so now they have their proof. Now they know, for certain, I'm just... I'm nothing... nothing special... no one of worth or merit. They did it, they're better than a Leigh and I'm just... to them... I'm nothing at all."

Some distant part of Marie-Fey's mind gaped at what she'd just said, all of it, said to Zaydan without any real hesitation. Every pause there for nothing but a gathering of words, to find the right thing to say, but not to stop. Why did she had to tell him all that?

But it was a distant part of her mind.

The rest was torn between the memory of Lashby starting to laugh, looking down on her with such disgust and joy, and the moment, with Zaydan watching her, his chin on his arms, his arms on her lap.

"And... what are you to yourself?" he asked slowly.

Marie-Fey lifted her gaze to look at him as he looked up at her with eyes that never seemed to end.

"You said that to them you are nothing. What are you to yourself?"

Marie-Fey's brow creased as he tried to think, to answer, to pull that self-knowledge from somewhere deep inside her.

But no matter where she reached, the answer didn't come.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Zaydan gazed up at her, a ridiculous sadness drowning his striking eyes. If he had looked at her with even a gain of pity, she would have struck him then and there.

But he didn't.

There was no pity.

No sympathy.

Just sadness.

Like her pain truly, truly, hurt him, as if it was his own.

Marie-Fey looked away, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked at his star charts scattered on the floor.

"I'm not much to most either," he muttered.

She looked back at him but his eyes were downcast, looking at the bodice of her gown but not really seeing it, his gaze turned inward, tugged into memories she wasn't privy to.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"I didn't meet my brother until I was seven years old. I didn't know him until I was old enough to start knowing my place in the world – to understand. By the time we met, he was already fourteen, bound for greatness, ready to rule. He was told he had to know his brother because I would always be by his side. I was going to be there to support him. But I could also take from him. if he was weaker than me, I could take it all from him. Sons steal from fathers. Brothers steal from brothers. If the bonds weren't strong enough, betrayal was all that was left. So he needed to know me, needed to secure my loyalty. Needed to know I would never step beyond him."

He was quiet for a moment again, thinking, drifting, that same sadness growing heavier around him, shrouding him.

"I didn't meet my brother until I was seven years old," he murmured, "And the first thing he told me was that I wasn't worth the ground I stood on."

Marie-Fey stared at him, her eyes widening.

"What?" she breathed.

"There are two ways to gain loyalty in this world. Earn it. Or force it. My brother doesn't know how to earn loyalty, so he forces it. At seven years old, it didn't take much to batter that loyalty into me."

"But... but your mother," Marie-Fey said, stunned, the memory of her mother-in-law flashing in her mind. That powerful, brilliant woman. "She wouldn't... I can't imagine her ever allowing... how?!"

"She wasn't there," Zaydan said, shaking his head, "Most women would never leave the palace, they're not like you. They don't leave. She couldn't leave. My father died when I was young. When we were both young. My brother didn't stay, he was mostly raised in the Sultan's palace. The sultan is a good man... but those around him are not. And my brother is... well he's not..."

His brow creased as he tried to think.

"He's different from us. He's not really—"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off because Zaydan suddenly reared away, eyes wide, hands flying to his throat as tumbled backwards, gagging like something was choking him.

"Zaydan!" Marie-Fey shrieked in horror as he collapsed to the ground, eyes almost rolling back in his head as he struggled to breath, hands like claws at his throat, like he could pull something loose but there was nothing there. "What's wrong?" she screamed, falling to the ground beside him, hands flying to his, "What's happening?!"

His head slammed into the wooden deck as spasms rocketed through him, lips changing colour before her eyes as she grabbed him, hauling him against her and holding tight as he thrashed and kicked, protecting his head because she didn't know what else to do!

As suddenly as it started though, it stopped.

He collapsed against her, limp and trembling, sweating and gasping, chest heaving and nails digging into her arms and he curled into her, breathing deep and stuttered.

"What was that?" Marie-Fey cried, holding him closer as his entire body shuddered.

"Nothing," he coughed out, arms sliding around her waist, holding tight, "I was nothing. Just... just a fit... it happens... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I scared you. I'm alright, I promise I'm alright."

"We should call for the doctor," she said but he just shook his head against her.

"No, I promise, nothing can be done. It doesn't happen often. Not anymore, it was a fluke. My mistake. It's fine now. Let me just... just give me a moment and then... we'll go back to the house. I'll carry you, so you don't have to hurt any more. We'll get something to drink and you can tell something... anything... we'll just and wait for your family and the girls. It's fine now... everything's fine just... give me a moment."

Marie-Fey stared down at him as he held on tight, eyes closed, muscles twitching throughout his body, the sadness from before swept away now and replaced by pain and despair.

So she gathered him closer, holding tighter, pressing her cheek to his head as he squeezed back in return.

And it felt like an age before he spoke again.

"You're not nothing to me."

She looked down, confused. "What?"

"You're not nothing," he muttered, his voice muffled against her gown. "You're everything."