"What?"

The word for unanimous, from Zaydan's friends, to Antoinette and Ringbart, to Rosalia and the man who was helping her take a seat, to Robert, Antoinette's husband, and Braydon as they walked into the room, stopping short in the doorway as everyone stared at Marie-Fey.

She and Zaydan, meanwhile, ignored the lot of them as Zaydan took the letter and began to read.

"What death?" Braydon asked as he strode into the room, unconsciously waving Rosalia's helper away so he could untuck where her skirt had caught a little awkwardly under her and carefully slip a small cushion behind her so her back didn't get tired after walking then sitting in the hard seats.

Marie-Fey eyed them while she waited for Zaydan to finish reading, watching as Braydon neatly slid a lock of hair back from Rosalia's face and she gestured for him to bend down so she could neaten his cravat, mouthing something to him and making him grin.

Then she looked at Zaydan as his arm absently slid around her waist, his eyes still trained on the letter.

"What happened?" Antoinette demanded, taking the seat her husband pulled out for her. "Who's died?"

"A death? That's a mild way of pulling it," he muttered to Marie-Fey.

"Fine, three is you want to be precise," she replied. "But I didn't like two of them."

Zaydan gave her a look, then finished reading the letter. "I don't understand why I'm only getting this news through you. Who's getting it through Azeeza."

"Do you think this is part of the reason Zaafira's been called to the capital?"

Zaydan looked blankly her. "She's what?" he asked.

Marie-fey raised an eyebrow. "She didn't tell you? I thought she'd have told you after the ball last night."

"She didn't say anything. What do you mean she's been called to the capital?"

"My h—" Marie-Fey started and almost rolled her eyes at herself.

"Rise and shine, love," Zaydan said, a smirk slipping past his general shock.

"Your brother called Zaafira to the capital, she got the letter last night," Marie-Fey replied.

Zaydan's arm tightened around her waist and he looked at the letter again.

"Do you think Azeeza's still alive?" he asked, his voice dropping further as they turned their back of their audience.

"She had better be," Marie-Fey snapped, taking the letter back and looking at it. Azeeza had written the letter in her own mother tongue. A daring move to begin with, and Marie-Fey couldn't imagine how the girl had managed to sneak such a letter out of the palace.

She also couldn't believe the child had taken her role as a member of Marie-Fey's inner circle as seriously as she had. She was a child, Marie-Fey hadn't really expected anything from her when she'd ordered her to keep watch while she was gone, and yet here she was, playing informant... and at greater risk than Marie-Fey had predicted.

It was one thing that someone had attempted to kill her.

The girls of the palace should have been safe.

She sat down, pressing a hand to her forehead as she read the words again, Zaydan taking a seat beside her.

Lady Marie-Fey,

I can't say much because I don't trust anyone here. Everything unravelled soon after your left. I can't say what happened; either no one is sure, or they refuse to say. Aymelek is dead. She was in perfect health one day then dead the next. There are rumours that a poisoning meant for you had to be used on someone else because you left and the killer needed to be rid of the content, but it's just rumours. I do think she was poisoned though. As with Tirsa and Nijaa. I do not know why, but the palace is scared. They're wondering when you will be back. I think some are hoping that if you come back, whoever is targeting us will finally succeed in killing you and leave everyone else alone. However, there are others that I know want you back because they feel safer with you here. You may scare or anger them, but clearly you left an impression by recovering from an assassination attempt without seeming to care.

I admit I am one who hopes you hurry home. I have an idea of who might be behind this, but I cannot be sure, nor do I know why. And I shall not risk naming someone in this letter when I cannot be sure it will ever reach you without others seeing it. Writing in my own language is the most I can do, in hopes it is passed on and not understood, but without the assurance I'm at a loss.

I also think I might be targeted next. Perhaps I wasn't subtle enough, or asked the wrong question, or simply too many. I realise you are unlikely to care, but won't you come home? I'm scared and would feel safer with you home to handle this, whatever this is.

There's also that two other girls have been called to the capital. The Master called for Zaafira, but her ladies have been stalling to hide that she is not here. Everyone is talking about the girls if they were sent to their deaths.

There is an air of sanity unravelling in the palace that was not here when you were here. I don't know if you will, but I hope you come home soon.

I hope you are well, and you are happy now.

I'm sorry to call you back.

Azeeza, (Chiara).

That dash of rebelliousness, signing with both names, amused Marie-Fey, but not as much as the rest of the message bothered her.

Part of her admittedly did consider leaving them to whatever fate that palace now faced. Maanah and Gharam were both with her, meaning they were safe. If only she could replace Zaafira with Azeeza. But if something did end up happening to Zaafira, it was probably break Zaydan's heart.

She glanced at him as he reread the letter over her shoulder, his eyes dark and distant.

"We have to go back," she muttered.

He blinked, then looked at her. Appeared to really look at her, study her almost before his gaze dropped. "We should go back to the house, discuss it there."

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at him. What was there to discuss?

But she nodded anyway and took his hand when he helped her stand.

"What is happening?" Antoinette asked.

"I'll explain later," Marie-Fey said, "For now we need to leave. I'm sure we've outstayed our welcome."

"But—" Antoinette started but Marie-Fey and Zaydan hurried by, Zaydan's hand firmly locked around Marie-Fey's as she sped through the halls, Rosalia, Braydon, Antoinette and Robert hurrying to keep up.

~~~~

"You should have said something," Zaydan was saying as Marie-Fey waved one of the maids out of the drawing room once she'd brought the tea. She curtsied and left, firmly closing the door behind her.

"It was hardly the time," Zaafira replied from where she sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and cheek on her knuckles.

Zaydan raised an eyebrow at her. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

Zaafira narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why is he calling for you?"

"As if I would know," Zaafira said with an annoyed breath, "I managed to stay under his radar for this long, my luck was bound to run out."

Zaydan threw up his hands and turned away, throwing himself into the seat beside Marie-Fey and folding his arms. Zaafira smoothly rose to her feet and strode to the door.

"Where are you going?" Zaydan snapped.

"To inform Maanah and Gharam of what is happening back home," Zaafira snapped back, yanking open the door and storming out, slamming it behind her with enough force to make Zaydan wince.

"Damn her and her attitude," he grumbled under his breath, slouching lower in his seat and dropping his head on Marie-Fey's shoulder, long legs stretching across the footstool in front of him.

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at the top of her head. "She seems much the same as always to me."

"To you maybe but not me," Zaydan said. He fell quiet for a moment, then sighed. "She's scared."

"Of what?"

"That's the problem, she doesn't know. No one wishes to be called to the capital by my brother because no one comes back. They invent the most awful stories to tell each other and have succeeded in terrifying each other."

"And yet you spend most of your time with your brother, why don't you correct them?"

Zaydan went quiet again for another moment. "Because I don't know either," he muttered.

Marie-Fey sighed, dropping her head back., "Excellent," she said, tipping her head towards the window.

Zaydan sighed and straightened. "I'll have to go back. Right away. My brother will not handle this, not until it starts to impact him at court."

"He won't look into the deaths of multiple women under his care? One of whom could possibly be his own wife?"

Zaydan grimaced.

"Did he even know about my close encounter with the other side? Or did you just read the letter and jump into action?" Zaydan glanced at her, then his eyes slid away and Marie-Fey shook her head, shoving to her feet. "Fine, I'll have a ship secured to depart as soon as possible."

"You don't have to come back."

Zaydan's low voice made her pause, before she looked back. He was still seated, forearms on his thighs, hands clasped, head bowed.

"Excuse me?"

"You could stay here?" Zaydan said, looking up at her through his hair, eyes startingly dark. "You could stay. Not return home— or... not go back there. He wouldn't come after you... there's nothing to force you to come back."

Marie-Fey eyed him for a moment. "I'm surprised you should suggest such a thing."

Zaydan lifted his head properly, giving her a smile. "I would have you come back with me. What will I do without you? But since I'll technically always be without you, I think it may be best to stay here." He looked away, eyes turning to the window. "I would say I know you'll be happier here, but I'm not convinced you'll be happier in either society. But here is your family, and you'll happier here with them than back there with us." He got to his feet and turned to her. "You should stay here."

She stared at him.

Stay here?

He was giving her the way out she needed.

As much as he probably wanted her to come back with him, back with them, he was giving her the chance to stay.

His eyes cut away from her. "At least, I don't think he'll come for you," he added, "I would try and stop him if he did."

Marie-Fey sat down, thinking. It would be so easy. Just stay there, with her family and never think about that country again. About the heat and the boredom and those irritating girls who were so bored and miserable with their lives they barely knew how to interact with each other, let alone someone they would always consider an outsider, regardless of the fact that they themselves had come from around the world.

Damn Azeeza.

If that child hadn't arrived when she had, Marie-Fey may well have just stayed.

They were hardly close. It wasn't the same as Maanah asking her to come home because she was scared.

But the child was in her inner circle, and she probably wasn't wrong in fearing for her life. And Marie-Fey did so want to throw her in her father's face one day, just to see the guilt or shock in his eyes. She wanted to see if he was capable of such emotions. And then she wanted her own father to run the man into dept. She could hardly do that if Azeeza was dead.

...Besides, it didn't change that the girls were scared, and it was her palace. Her mother-in-law would have handled this issue, so she had to as well.

It didn't change that as soon as she could, she would return home again.

She sighed heavily and stood up.

"We're still leaving as soon as possible."

Zaydan's head snapped up, staring at her. "What? Why?" he asked gaping.

"I need to make sure that kid isn't dead," Marie-Fey replied, heading for the door. "And if she is dead, I need to attend to whoever made her so."

Zaydan's caught her hand as she passed him, yanking her back so fast she stumbled and fell against his chest, gripping his shirt to steady herself as he slid his hands over his waist and up her back, pulling her against him as she looked up at him, startled.

The darkness was back.

The darkness in his eyes that she'd spied on the ship at the very beginning of her trip home, before he had announced he would travel with her.

There was something under there, under his charm and smiles and general easy attitude, there was something under it all and Marie-Fey wasn't sure what it was.

She didn't feel unsafe seeing it. He had scared her back on the ship, but she didn't feel outright threatened. But she felt that was because that darkness wasn't actually directed at her, even if it was her he was looking at.

"What?" she asked, her voice cautious.

"Someone tried to kill you. Three more women have died. You cannot just waltz back in there without risking someone actually succeeding in harming you."

"I have no doubt they will try," Marie-Fey replied and Zaydan's grip tightened.

"This isn't something you can take lightly!" he snapped, "You don't understand the palace you live in. The family you married in to! You shouldn't come back. This is the perfect opportunity to stay here. To stay away! No one will force you back."

"You yourself said you weren't completely sure he wouldn't come for me."

"I'm assuming he won't because of who my brother is!"

"And what if he does anyway? And what if you can't stop him? Do you think you can stop him? You've proved your control over him so well already."

Zaydan flinched at that, looking away, one hand releasing her, the action automatic, unconscious as it flew up to his throat.

Marie-Fey grabbed his hand, her other hand shooting up to his collar making him jolt in surprise, the darkness snapping from his face as he stumbled backwards. But he didn't release her, so she staggered with him, her foot catching her hem, pitching her forwards as Zaydan wrapped his arms around her to try and save them both.

They toppled over in a wild flare of skirts and squeals and Marie-Fey flattened Zaydan to the floor, making him groan.

She recovered faster and latched her hands back onto his collar, yanking it open.

"You let Beldon see whatever you're hiding there! Let me see!"

"It's nothing! It's nothing!" Zaydan cried, scrabbling to try and pull her hands away.

"I refuse to let that idiot be privy to something I'm not! I'm your wife, aren't I?!"

"What?" Zaydan asked, the question throwing him for a precious second and Marie-Fey managed to drag his collar aside.

Zaydan hurled her off him.

Literally threw her as he shoved backwards across the carpet, his hand to his throat.

Marie-Fey landed hard but she wasn't hurt, and she was distracted by the image of his throat.

He had a scar around his throat, it looked like it ran the full circumference of his neck. But it wasn't just the knowledge that someone had tried to strangle him. She could actually see the details of the weapon, the links of the metal, the memory of a near death.

Someone had wrapped a chain around his throat once and pulled so tight that it had left a discoloured phantom in his skin, the chain links perfectly captured long after the chain had probably been dug out him.

Zaydan was rushing to button his collar up again, straightening his waistcoat, neatening his cravat and stumbling to his feet, sweeping his hair back from his face and smoothing his clothes again and again with trembling hands before he hurried over to her and pulled her to her feet, straightening her gown.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked quickly.

Marie-Fey eyed him as he repositioned the small ornaments in her hair.

"Did you get that scar in war?" she asked, her tone level and cool. "Is that why you let Beldon see? And why he discussed the scars on his back?"

Zaydan flinched, backing away from her, not meeting her eye.

"Answer me, Zaydan."

"No," he muttered, "No I didn't get it while in war. It's... why it was brought up. We were just talking... discussing..." He let out a shaky laugh, running fingers through his hair, messing it up again. "Saying how we would rather be elsewhere... Beldon was joking, saying he got himself just as battered off the battle field as on, I agreed... he described his... his back... he wanted to see my neck and I... you're right when you say we can be alike... he didn't tell me how he got his scars, I didn't tell him how I got mine."

Marie-Fey watched his hand that was still in his hair while his eyes were train on the floor. It was trembling again, his voice sounded thick and unsteady.

And his eyes had a glassiness to them.

It was a jarring sight.

In fact, it was downright disturbing.

His gaze suddenly snapped up to fix on her, eyes bright with emotion that was trying to claw its way to the surface.

"Please don't ask me more," he whispered, "I've never spoken to anyone about it, about what he did... please don't ask me right now..."

His lips, usually so ready with a smile, began to quiver, and Marie-Fey stepped forwards. He drew back, eyes darting from side to side as if to seek out an escape and Marie-Fey caught him before he could collide with the wall.

She gently tangled her fingers through his and tugged him forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Despite being such a lean young man, he was still so much bigger than her, and yet in that moment, he felt tiny and fragile in her arms as he stood frozen.

"It's alright," she said softly, running a hand over his hair.

The tension in his body crumbled and he slumped into her, arms sliding around her waist as he pressed his face to the crook of her neck, holding her so close he lifted her up onto her tiptoes.

"It's alright," she repeated again, even softer, "It's not something we need talk about. We all have our secrets we don't want to talk about." Her eyes flickered to the side, his soft hair brushing her cheek before she sighed and closed her eyes, titling her head against his. "Though it is generally considered better to."

She felt his nails dig into the bodice of her gown and she stroked his hair again.

"In time. One day. When you tell me what he did to you... I'll tell you what he did to me."

Zaydan's head kicked back, his body suddenly steady and solid as his own disturbance was shoved aside for concern for her.

"He? Who is he? You don't mean my brother."

Marie-Fey smiled slightly. She couldn't help by love that instant shift. How did this man so easily put her before everything else? She hadn't done anything to deserve it. And yet here he was. Looking at her like he was ready to go charging off after this mystery man who had done her harm in some way – without knowing any details.

She just smiled at him and wriggled until he set her back.

"As I said, another time."

She pulled out of her arms, his fingers gripping for a moment before he let her go. She smoothed her gown, then gestured for him to make sure her hair was all still in place – which he just used as an excuse to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear then stroke her jaw with his thumb.

"I'm going to send a message on ahead to warn the palaces we are returning home. I will then have a ship prepared so we can leave as soon as possible." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "I will handle this," she said firmly.

"I would rather you didn't," he muttered.