Everyone was trying to speak at once.

Surging forwards, crowding Marie-Fey's space, shouting and crying and trying to be heard until they were in danger of knocking her back down the steps.

"ENOUGH!"

Her snarl rang over the clamour and, as one, everyone drew back.

Marie-Fey glowered at them as she straightened her gown and ran a hand across her hair.

"I have not even stepped through these damn doors," she seethed at the crowd. "Is someone, at this second, in the process of dying?"

"No but—" someone started.

"Then there is no immediate emergency," Marie-Fey replied. "Those who are dead are dead. Those who are alive at present are not in immediate danger. Hollering and howling at me is not going to fix anything. I am first going to have a bath drawn so I can wash the desert from my skin. I shall then change. Then, and only then, shall I discuss what has been happening with each and every one of you. You will all have your say, I shall not ignore your concerns, but no one impede my schedule. Where is Azeeza?"

The women before her glanced at each other, suddenly quiet.

"Oh, now you won't speak?" she sighed, then snapped her fingers in the direction of two girls who were her roommates. "Answer. Where is she? Is she still alive?"

"She's alive," one muttered, "But she's been comatose for some weeks now. She's not... dying, it seems... but she's not waking either."

Marie-Fey didn't draw in the sharp breath she wanted to take; she didn't show a response to the news. Instead, she nodded as if this was of no concern and looked at Gharam.

"Have my bath and change of clothes prepared," she ordered. Gharam nodded and glided back out to head around the palace to Marie-Fey's personal palace. She then looked at Maanah. "Collect Azeeza and her things and have her placed in one of our rooms."

Maanah bowed her head and strode into the palace, people getting out of her way as she passed.

Marie-Fey looked at Zaafira. "I assume I can leave you to handle yourself?" she asked and Zaafira laughed at her.

"As if I need your concern," she said, snapping her fingers. Her ladies rushed out of the crowd to greet her and she tossed her outdoor clothes to them before sweeping away to her apartments without a backwards glance.

Once they were all gone, Marie-Fey returned her attention to the women who waited and watched.

"Think carefully about what you wish to say to me," she said, her voice low, "I am aware that there have been deaths. I am aware that some of you wish me back to protect you, while other wish me back in hopes that I die first and you are all left be."

That statement caused discomfort to ripple through the audience and Marie-Fey folded her arms.

"So, think carefully about what you wish to say to me," she said, "I returned to find whoever killed members of this palace. I returned to deal with my absent husband. I do not want to be here and yet here I am, with the intention of trying to protect you. So do not waste my time. You have until I have changed."

She took one step forwards, over the threshold and, as one, everyone drew aside, forming a path for her. Without another glance, she passed them by, heading through the palace, out the other side and onwards toward her own.

~~~

Two hours later and she stood in the bedroom Maanah had assigned to Azeeza, now clean and refreshed and dressed in blue and gold, her gown made of the lightest of fabrics to combat the heat.

Azeeza appeared to be doing nothing more than sleeping, but she wasn't waking up. Marie-Fey couldn't begin to fathom why. She certainly couldn't understand how the girl, who could not be fed, was not wasting away.

She pursed her lips for a moment, then looked over to her ladies.

"Anything?" she asked.

"No," Maanah replied from where she was dismantling one of Azeeza's little lock boxes to see if any hidden messages had been left regarding who had been killing the women of the palace and left Azeeza in her current state.

"Tch, she could have at least left us something of use," Marie-Fey muttered, chewing on her thumbnail for a moment, irritated. "If she had an idea as to the identity, she should have left us a hint before she bowed out of the narrative."

Maanah shot her a disapproving look and Marie-Fey shot her a look in reply that dared her to voice her thoughts.

Maanah stayed quiet and looked over to Gharam as she riffled through Azeeza's writing set.

"She has made a few notes in her own language," Gharam said, handing several pages over.

Marie-Fey sat on the edge of the bed to scan the neat sentences – the girl had a beautiful script. The pages mainly consisted of diary entries of her life since she'd arrived however and nothing useful.

Marie-Fey slowed her speed and actually took a moment to take in the words.

"Is there anything else like this?" she asked.

"Not that I can find," Gharam replied.

"Hmm," Marie-Fey mused, before standing up and smoothing her gown. "We're done here. Gharam, make me some tea. Maanah, call the first girl. I want to speak to Azeeza's roommates before anyone else."

The two ladies bowed and hurried out and Marie-Fey looked down at Azeeza's sleeping form. She neatly folded the pages and slid them into her pocket, before reaching down and smoothing the bed covers, pulling Azeeza's arm back onto the mattress where it had slid off to let the fingertips brush against the floor. She took a moment to examine the girl's hand.

"I see you actually followed my advice and took care of your hands," she said absently, setting the hand down by Azeeza's side. Glancing at her face, she watched as Azeeza's eyes moved behind her closed eyelids, shifting the way of dreams.

Marie-Fey straightened up and walked out, closing and locking the door behind her before striding away to one of her reception rooms.

The girls Azeeza's roomed with arrived soon after she had taken a seat and she pointed them to one of the sofas, waiting for them to cram in together as Gharam returned with tea.

The girls stared at her, wide eyed and pale and Marie-Fey left them waiting as Gharam prepared her tea and handed it over, moving to stand behind her seat. She took her time taking a small, careful sip, then set the cup down and looked at Gharam.

"Would you fetch me my book, pen and ink from that cupboard?"

Gharam quickly collected the items and arranged them on the table by Marie-Fey's tea. Marie-Fey picked up the book, opening to fresh page and held out a hand. Gharam dipped the pen in the ink and handed it over and Marie-Fey made a note of the three sat before her who were starting to fidget.

"Now," she said, and they sat bolt upright and rigid. "What do you want to say to me? And if you all start speaking at once I'll have you gagged until it is your turn to speak."

They wisely, and silently, picked the first to speak with nods and the first girl started to explain that she feared they would be next.

"And why is that?" Marie-Fey asked, making a note in her book.

"Someone was... I'm not sure, doing things already before Azeeza collapsed," she said, "we would find threatening notes, warning us all that if we did not get rid of Azeeza soon, we'd be caught up in whatever she was involved with."

"Do you have the notes?"

"Yes. We kept them to show you."

"Good. And do you know what Azeeza was involved with?"

"No. We asked her, but she said there was nothing to tell and it was someone playing a cruel joke. But then..."

"It's certainly one hell of a punchline," Marie-Fey muttered. "Did Azeeza keep a journal?"

The girls look confused for a moment, then surprised.

"Yes, she did. She does. It's a leather-bound book, she requested it from some of your servants a while ago. She wrote in her own language though so we couldn't read it."

"And where is her journal?"

"Where? It... should be with her stuff that Maanah collected."

"I see," Marie-Fey said. She glanced at Gharam who confirmed that there hadn't been a diary seen when they'd moved her and searched her things with a tiny shake of the head. "Alright, what else would you like to tell me?"

And so, it went from there. Women filed in throughout the day, well after sunset, to make their complaints and voice their concerns. Most had nothing useful to say, they were just scared. Marie-Fey couldn't blame them for that.

The interviews continued the next day and just when Marie-Fey thought she was finished, Zaafira walked in and took a seat.

"You want to voice your fears about a serial killer in our midst?" Marie-Fey asked coolly, raising an eyebrow and indicating to Gharam to pour Zaafira tea.

"No, I'm not interested in this murderer," Zaafira said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"How brave."

"I was never the target. And I never will be."

"Then why are you here?"

"Believe it or not, I'm here to say goodbye."

Marie-Fey stared at her. "I do not believe it."

Zaafira shot her a sneer, but the power of it was lost because it didn't reach her eyes.

Her eyes... she looked so sad.

"You're leaving for the capital?" Marie-Fey asked, her voice low.

Zaafira looked away, nodding. "I cannot hold it off any long. I'll be leaving tomorrow. I won't be coming back."

"You're so important in this palace, you're too valuable to simply vanish," Marie-Fey said and Zaafira shook her head.

"I've been here since I was a child; I've seen women greater than me vanish overnight."

Marie-Fey looked at her for a moment, the blinked and frowned. "Wait," she said, straightening, "What do you mean you've seen this happen since you were child? These women vanishing isn't just related to my husband's reign?"

Zaafira blinked, then looked up at her.

And she suddenly looked confused.

"I... no, it must have been before, women always vanished. Before I even came here. They used to talk about the Night Girls, when I was young. Girls who vanished in the middle of the night. They said they were taken to this palace and simply vanished within its halls."

"Excuse me?" Marie-Fey said, gaping at her.

"It's just a story," Zaafira said, frowning at her, "A ghost story. They were supposed to be hidden in some tower with no door, but you can explore this entire palace with ease. There are no secrets here."

Marie-Fey stared at her for a moment, then her eyes flicked away, towards the bright gardens, gleaming with sunlight.

She was quiet for a moment, then turned to Gharam.

"How many windows would you say there are in this palace?"

Gharam looked blankly for a moment, then thought. "Around... five hundred? From the tiny ones to the balconies."

"Contact the laundry and clothing departments. I need five hundred, and spare, white ribbons made up as soon as possible. They needn't be neat."

Gharam gave her another blank look but didn't question her. Marie-Fey appreciated that faith in her commands and turned back to Zaafira as Gharam left.

"What are you planning?" Zaafira asked, frowning at her.

"A game," Marie-Fey said simply. "I'll have you overseeing it for the next few days."

Zaafira glared at her. "I just told you, I'm leaving, and I won't be coming back."

"You're not leaving," Marie-Fey said simply and Zaafira gaped at her. "How dare you presume to attend to my husband before I have even met him. I am his wife and I shall be attending court before you. You will stay here and do as I say with the ribbons. You shall not be leaving and if anyone commands you, you shall send them following after me. Warn them that their head will be carved off in the kitchens for attempting to defy me."

She got to her feet, smoothing her gown and picking up her notebook.

"W-wait, you cannot just decide this," Zaafira said, scrambling from her seat to follow Marie-Fey out of the room as Marie-Fey made her way through the palace.

"And yet I have," Marie-Fey said.

"You don't understand what this man is like," Zaafira said, grabbing Marie-Fey's arm. Marie-Fey kept walking and dragged Zaafira along with her as they stepped out into the sunlight.

"No, you're right. I do not. I think it is time I find out," Marie-Fey replied.

"Marie-Fey, I am serious. We don't know what he does to the Night Girls. What the tradition is! What if he kills you?"

"He's more likely to kill you than me," Marie-Fey said, stopping and turning to Zaafira. Zaafira gave her a helpless look. "If I vanish, he will have one of the world's most notable families coming after him. Wouldn't it be awful if he brought war to his sultan's doorstep because he was so careless as to lose his wife – who happens to be the sister of one of the finest generals her home kingdom's army? Or would he like to risk all the trade deals and wealth I secure his state and kingdom when he misplaces the sister-in-law to one of the royal family's most valued advisors? I hold a lot of power by being alive, but I will hold a lot more by being dead. I have a family who will look out for me. Who do you have?"

Zaafira's anguished expression was somewhat surprising but Marie-Fey didn't show or feel any sympathy as Zaafira slowly released her sleeve.

"Who do you have, Zaafira?" she asked again.

Zaafira looked down, hands and shoulders trembling. "You," she muttered.

That did catch Marie-Fey off guard and she gaped at her.

"I have you," Zaafira said.

Marie-Fey stared at her for a moment, then blinked and looked up at the pure blue sky. "Yes," she finally said, "You have me." With that, she turned on her heel and strode onwards, Zaafira following quietly behind her until they reached the point at the side of the palace where Marie-Fey had stood with The Black Rabbit and they had noted the lack of a white handkerchief from one of the tower windows. The tiny window at the top of one of the smallest, narrowest towers.

She pointed it out to Zaafira.

"There," she said.

Zaafira looked up, scanning for what Marie-Fey was pointing to.

"That window there. The tiny one."

"Yes?"

"While I'm away, you're going to have the girls go through my palace and tie a sash at every window. We're looking for the entrance to that window."

"Why that window?" Zaafira asked, frowning.

"Because I don't know where the door to that tower is," Marie-Fey said simply and Zaafira looked at her, eyes wide as Marie-Fey gazed up at the small window, too dark and too high to see anything.

Except maybe the faintest, quickest flash of white behind the glass before sunlight shone from its surface, blocking the view.