Marie-Fey blinked, taking in Kilan's words for a moment before shaking her head. "What?" she said.

"Those dead women. Their clothes. They came from different cultures, different time periods, centuries between one dress and another?"

"Yes."

"And Lord Zaydan asked this ghost to confirm which mother she was referring to. This goes beyond our lifetime, Marie. This has been happening for much longer than Lord Zahir's current span at life. Those women died a lifetime ago, dozens of lifetimes ago. I don't know who Lord Zahir is or what he's doing, but he has been doing this time and time again. Lord Zaydan has been alive time and time again alongside him. Some of those women back home in your palace, some of them have probably lived through this time and time again. Not as victims to his murder, but victims to the loop where he comes back, in different families, different cultures, different centuries. I'm speculating, yes, but I will bet you my Collection this isn't his first life and, unless Lady Shala knows something about your role in his fate that we don't, this won't be his last."

Marie-Fey gaped at him. "B— but he... what? What do we do?"

"I need to think. I'm guessing. I'm putting the story together as best as I know how. So, first—"

"Lady Rais."

The voice from the doors turned their attention to a servant bowing low to them.

"What?" Marie-Fey snapped.

"Pardon to intrusion, My Lady," the maid said, "Lord Rais has requested your presence at a private dinner. I have come to collect you, so that you have time to get ready."

"Private? Just the two of us?" Marie-Fey said, suddenly horrified by the idea.

"I believe so?"

Marie-Fey spun to Kilan and he stopped her words by pressing the key into her hand.

"You need to attend this dinner," he said, his voice low. "You need to see what you can learn. Take the subtle or the direct approach, I don't care, but you need to get more information from him. Share what I have speculated with you, fish for information, watch his reaction. This is no different from court. No different from the women's palace. It's an information game."

"I don't feel remotely ready for this," Marie-Fey muttered as Kilan rose and helped her stand.

"You're more ready than you realise, trust me," Kilan said. "I'll be around when you finish. Call for me whenever you want. I will stay in the palace until you leave the capital. We'll dissect what he tells you together. I will help you figure this out."

Marie-Fey grimaced, looking down at the key in her hand.

"Remember, Marie, do not be scared of him," Kilan said and Marie-Fey gave him an incredulous look. "Don't forget your importance in this world, do not fear him yet, not tonight."

"That is easier said than done," Marie-Fey said, frowning, looking down again.

"I know, but Marie-Fey don't forget."

Kilan gently took her hand as he spoke, squeezing tightly.

"He may be a fairytale, but you are a legend."

Marie-Fey looked up and Kilan smiled at her, then released her hands, stepped back and bowed.

She released a breath, then swept out, tucking the key away and returning to her rooms to dress for dinner.

~~~~

You stand before the doors of hell and you have no idea of the devil within.

Beldon had said that to Marie-Fey once. He had been describing an early dinner when he had dined with The Beast. He had said the only thing that ever trumped those early days was when he walked to the doors of the War Council in the army, because he never knew what assignment he might be undertaking.

She glanced down at the jewellery she wore around her wrists, then touched the necklace at her collarbone – the one Zaydan had boldly asked her to wear when she saw her husband. She still didn't care to be playing the role of a piece of territory for men to lay claim to, but the necklace had its benefits for her.

Her husband held most of the cards.

She needed anything to throw him off balance.

Her arrival had been a start.

The key was another blow.

The necklace would be the third.

She would see what she could do from there.

She took a breath, then lifted her hand and flicked her fingers. The guards at the doors reached across and pulled them open for her and she folded her hands at her waist and swept in.

Then stopped, blinking.

The room was a large, circular dining room, with large windows to one side to allow in masses of light during the day and, as now, a view of the stars. Dozens of torches illuminated the room, glancing off the crystals and silks that decorated the ceiling and walls.

The round table in the middle was much too big for just two people dining, which made sense seeing as there were seven men currently at it.

Zahir was one of the men, sat across from the doors so he was the first to see her. Zaydan was only other one she knew.

The other five men turned to see her with varying looks of confusion and annoyance on their faces. Marie-Fey took in their faces one after the other, then looked at Zahir, who was watching her in a calm, measured way – like a cobra who was considering whether it could be bothered to strike the mouse obliviously standing within kill-distance.

He was trying to throw her off balance much as she was him.

Marie-Fey stared back at him for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. Fine, touché. But she wasn't a mouse.

As Zufar al-Saleh had told her on their trek back through the desert together only weeks before – she reminded him of a vixen. She wouldn't be outfoxed here.

Zaydan almost shoved to his feet when she stopped at the threshold but Zahir reached out without looking, gripping his wrist and holding him down, as he should.

Marie-Fey had no idea who these men were. She was not going to reveal that she and Zaydan's relationship was closer than the distant, polite detachedness of in-laws to them. She would not let them soil her reputation.

"My Lord," she finally said, her voice strong and clear as she strode forwards, watching her husband. "You and I have very different understandings of what constitutes a private dinner."

Zahir eyed her for a moment, then smiled. It was a soft, handsome smile – reminiscent of Zaydan's gentler smiles. There was just none of his fondness for her in that smile.

"I hope you'll forgive me, My Lady, I had been attending a meeting and, as you can see, it has overrun a little," he replied.

One of the men banged his fist on the table, glowering between the couple before fixing on Zahir.

"What did she say? Can she not speak our language? I will not tolerate such a display of cultural ignorance in the royal palace. Your wife is too arrogant if she sees herself beyond—"

"I can speak your language," Marie-Fey cut in, her voice soft. Everyone looked at her and she finally lowered her gaze to the man who had spoken. "I am not so vile a person that I would presume to barge my way into another's country and dismiss their language."

The man just narrowed his eyes at her, then addressed Zahir.

"Didn't one of your women report that she never bothered to learn our language?"

Marie-Fey's eyes darkened at that, then she looked at Zahir.

"That was reported to me," Zahir acknowledged, "Yet I see she was mistaken."

"Hah," Marie-Fey said lightly, "The awful things people will say in front of you when they think you cannot understand them." She smiled, walking forwards, stopping behind the man who was still glaring up at her and switched to her own language. "And the awful things people can wilfully say in front of you when they know you can't understand them," she said.

The man rounded on Zahir. "What was that? What did she say?"

"She's calling you an idiot who is letting his temper and distaste of women blind him to someone who can play him for a fool," Zahir said bluntly and Marie-Fey started laughing, putting a hand to her lips as she glided away from the man, dismissing him even as he roared to his feet.

"Setting me up to fall so quickly, Husband. Now, now, let's not be cruel," Marie-Fey said without pause, walking around the low table until she reached the last seat that was empty.

Whether it was for her or not, she didn't care.

"What are you doing!?" the man no opposite cried and Marie-Fey smiled at him.

Then she looked at Zaydan, who sat to her left.

"Hello Lord Zaydan," she said, and he bowed his head.

"Lady Rias," he said, politely, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for her. She took it and he helped her take her seat on the floor cushions, sitting again once she was settled between him and Zahir.

Zahir watched them for a moment, then leant back.

"As we were discussing before," he started when the same man slammed his hand down against the table.

"Lord Rais, I must protest! We shall not continue discussions of such sensitive subjects in the presence of a woman!"

Zahir fell quiet, watching him for a moment, then slowly raised an eyebrow. "We... shall not?" he repeated, as if he didn't understand the command, his voice low.

"Husband, maybe some introductions are needed?" Marie-Fey said, gesturing to one of the servants who hurried over with a drink, setting the glass at her side.

"This is not the place for a woman," the man spat instead.

"Lord Dar," Zaydan said softly.

"Hmmmm, you rule a state to the north, not large but a key defensive stronghold for The Sultan's forces. Aren't you falling out of favour with him, though?" Marie-Fey said, absently adjusting one of her bracelets. Zaydan kept his eyes down. Zahir glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. The other men gaped openly at her.

"You keep your wife well informed," another man muttered.

"I am lucky enough to not be married to a fool," Zahir replied simply, his eyes flicking to Zaydan then away again.

"Gentlemen, please continue your discussion," Marie-Fey said simply, "I am happy to merely sit and listen. I shan't interfere."

"Absolutely not," Lord Dar snarled.

"You're beginning to sound unnecessarily loud," Zahir said, his voice low.

"We're almost at the end of the meeting, and she has promised not make comment. It will do us no harm to let Lady Rais stay," another of the men put in quickly, gripping Dar's arm.

He was practically trembling in disgust at her presence and she settled back in her seat with a small smile that was just shy of an arrogant smirk.

"I hope he doesn't return home much, I would hate for his poor wife to suffer this creature," she muttered to Zaydan, keeping her voice down in an honest attempt to not disrupt as Zahir moved some parchments aside to pick up where they'd left off.

Zahir was just starting to talk when Dar launched in again.

"What did she say?" he shouted, "This is why it is unacceptable for a woman to be present outside of her quarters!"

Zahir's eyes flicked up, a darkness starting to flicker in them as he looked at Dar.

"Brother," Zaydan started but Zahir held up a hand, not looking away from Dar.

"While I tolerate your loathing of women that is so strong it verges on madness, I tolerate it because we are not usually together in the presence of women, meaning it does not disrupt work. If you continue to harp and howl however, my tolerance shall deplete at a concerning rate. We do not want that."

"Then why won't you dismiss her?" Dar cried and the other men winced. "Get rid of her!"

"This is why he's falling out of favour with The Sultan," Marie-Fey muttered, taking a sip of her drink before switching language. "I'm curious, have you ever had cause to speak of The Sultana like this in the presence of her husband?"

Dar looked ready to self-combust.

"He's mentioned her... unfavourably, a time or two," one of the other men said.

"Hmmm, and why were you insulting your queen in such a manner?"

"She dared to talk to The Sultan on matters of state! The nerve. The arrogance! That a woman such as her would dare think herself capable of understanding or comprehending such issues! Woman do not have the mental capacity or emotional fortitude! Women are too weak! They're too breakable!" Dar slammed his fist to the table, making the glasses tremble.

Zahir calmly opened his mouth to interrupt then stopped at the scrape of glass on wood. He looked around to see Marie-Fey pushing her glass to the centre of the table, drawing all eyes to it.

"Sir, I believe you're confusing women with a fine wine glass," she said calmly.

Dar stared at her, and her eyes flicked up as she smiled.

"Or perhaps your ego," she added, and Dar roared to his feet, blood pouring into his face turning him scarlet, Zaydan jumping to his feet as well, his hand out in front of Marie-Fey.

Marie-Fey just smiled at Dar, gently lowering Zaydan's hand.

"Dear me, is that a crack I see?" she asked, "And here I thought us ladies were the emotional ones. I don't see myself screeching over you insulting half the human race and yet you're bellowing over such a little jibe."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"Oh my, perhaps you're not fit to cope with such meetings."

Dar was trembling with rage, his fists clenched so hard his skin was turning white.

"Zahir!" he snarled, "Get this goddamn woman out of here! She's like all the rest! Opinionated and useless!"

"I guess you and I have something in common then," Marie-Fey replied.

"Get out."

Silence fell as everyone turned their attention to Zahir, while Zahir's attention was locked on Dar.

His eyes were like thunder, storm clouds rolling through the dark abyss as he watched Dar without even bothering to lift his head.

"What?" Dar muttered, his voice wheezing.

"Get out," Zahir repeated.

Dar opened his mouth and Zahir lifted his chin by an inch. It was like he had struck Dar across the face. He flinched and struggled back past his seat, still staring at Zahir.

"But I—"

Zahir planted his hands gently but firmly on the table and slowly rose to his feet, eyes never leaving Dar nor blinking.

"Five," he said.

Dar blinked, momentarily confused.

"Four," Zahir said and Dar's eyes widened.

"Lord Rais," he spluttered.

"Three."

One of the other men jumped to his feet, bowing his head first to Marie-Fey, then Zahir and Zaydan.

"Two."

He grabbed Dar's arm and forcibly hauled him towards the doors, throwing them open.

"One."

The doors slammed on Dar's pale face and the man spun back, leaning against them with a forced smile.

Zahir eyed the door for a moment, then retook his seat, neatly stacking the papers.

"I take it no one else has any issue with my wife attending?"

"Not at all."

"Hmm. Well, despite that, I promised my wife just a few more minutes until I would join her for dinner and that time is now passed. We shall continue this meeting another day. Inform Lord Dar that his presence is no longer required, I shall handle his decisions myself. You are all excused for the evenings."

The remaining men hurried to their feet, gathering their parchments and bowing and retreating, vanishing through the doors almost silently.

Zahir picked up his own papers and handed them over to Zaydan.

"Handle these for me," he ordered.

"I'm not staying?" Zaydan asked, taking the pages.

"No," Zahir replied, the answer final.

Zaydan grimaced, then got to his feet and bowed his head to them, before stepping away from his seat and sweeping to the doors.

"Inform the staff that we are ready for dinner," Zahir added.

Zaydan just nodded and exited without another word.

Silence settled on the room for a long, long moment, then Zahair set his elbow on the table, his cheek on his knuckles, and turned his dark eyes to Marie-Fey.

"You, Lady Rais, are a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for."