(A/N: This is the first update. If you received a notification for this chapter again later, but couldn't see the second half of the chapter, try restarting or reinstalling the Wattpad App.)

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The light of new dawn shone upon the Jewel of the Desert. Manservants held their breath as Lady Hyacinth led her entourage into the Great Hall. Well, to be honest, they were nervous every meal, so it wasn't a strange sight. Even when she emerged in a mellow mood, which she did not, her temperament could swing in the opposite direction once she received her letters and heard her agenda for the day.

A high-ranking official handed a stack of letters to Healer Hasif once she had assumed her place on Amoriah's right hand. Amoriah snatched herself a slab of unleavened bread, then poured a pond of olive oil from a pitcher over it.

"So, Kellis. Have you found any connection between Healer Hasif and the brothel?" She asked, shooting a dark look at the still-freeloading Hadrians with beady blue-black eyes. Baroness Sylvia glared back.

Coris closed his eyes and took deep breaths to compose himself. Cleygar and Lors were his father's men, and they'd been lying blind and mindless for days because of Amoriah's negligence. A decent ruler would have been ashamed visitors had been harmed under his watch and would do all in his power to help. Just how much quality seed was Amoriah promised from the king? On the other hand, Zier was toying with a tomato and did not seem to be paying attention. Father remained calm, apologetic even, as he shook his head.

"None so far, but we shall continue to investigate. My men are worse than dead, Amoriah. Their families will demand answers. I hope you'd let us impose on you for a while longer."

Before the Lady could do more than huff out a sigh of exasperation, one of the great doors opened a sliver. In edged a guard who came scurrying down the aisle.

"My lady, a delivery from Jaise." She reported after a bow. The news brought a grin of triumph to Amoriah. The Hadrians knew enough not to react. Like his parents, Coris simply kept a wary eye on her as he swallowed a bitter carrot dice. His taste buds protested. He shushed them. He might become a father soon. He must at least become healthy.

"Fresh seed!" Amoriah cried, throwing up her hands in jubilation, "Bring them in and unmask them. They'd better not be dregs this time around."

The guard bowed and hurried back up the aisle. She heaved back both doors, revealing five chained, masked and cloaked figures led by another similarly obscured figure. The guard escorted the warden and his prisoners towards the Lady. At her nod, he obligingly stripped them of their masks, revealing five pairs of glowing green eyes on olive-skinned faces.

Gasps and murmurs rose from other occupants of the main table—Amoriah's three hulking daughters, her wards and some high-ranking officials. Castle workers on the long tables craned their necks and stood up to see what the commotion was about. Amoriah was temporarily lost for words, then her cheeks darkened from an influx of boiling blood.

"Greeneyes?!" She screeched, banging a fist on the table, "As if we need more Greeneye seed diluting our pure blood! Off to the Needlehouse they go! I'll have Winterwen answer for this!"

The warden, to his credit, didn't flinch. He produced a ring of keys from his sleeve then slotted it into the manacles on his nearest captive. Once the man was freed, he gave him the key so the man would free his fellows in turn. He turned to the seething Amoriah. That was when Coris noticed the pair of lips behind the metal grille. They were thin and beautiful, painted in shiny black.

"You are in luck, it appears." The warden spoke in a familiar deep, serene voice. Coris's heart leapt.

"Winterwen?" Amoriah exclaimed over a chorus of gasps, eyes bulging, as Lady Jaise unmasked and lowered her hood, revealing her beautiful, high-cheekboned face, freeflowing black hair, and one glowing green eye. An ornate circlet with tassels of glittering jet shrouded her empty eye socket from view.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Amoriah.

"I heard my convicts are subjected to punishments my bereft hadn't called for." Winterwen glided gracefully down the aisle then up the steps to the main table, her eye never once leaving Amoriah, who strove to look unfettered,

"Before being sent to repent in the man-brothels, convicts you deem unfit to impregnate your women would be sterilized in the Needlehouse, which is not in their sentence. Greeneye convicts would also have their eyes taken out, making them mindless dolls. Also, not in their sentence." She stopped before the table, across from Amoriah, frowning in contempt,

"How would they repent if they could not remember their punishment? How would they repent if not given a second chance at life? What is your answer to that, Amoriah?"

Silence. Lady Hyacinth was likely forming her retort; Coris noticed the furrow of rapid thinking between her brows. Instead, Winterwen turned to Healer Hasif. She had stood up at Amoriah's side, pale and tense.

"I believe Healer Hasif is in charge of the Needlehouse?"

"She is." Amoriah answered, shrugging as Winterwen turned back to her, "Still, you have no right to blame me for what was not stipulated in our contract, Winterwen. You loaned your convicts to me. I have the right to make use of them as I please. I paid for them. You delivered them to me. Time is up, I return them to you the way they arrived. Even the sterilization is reversible, is it not, Hasif?"

"Yes, my lady. Perfectly reversible after some time off the potion." Hasif nodded vigorously. Winterwen tilted her head,

"True, I can't demand compensation for foolishly assuming you have basic decency." A vein throbbed in Amoriah's temple. "However, I can withhold future deliveries until I have investigated those brothels. See if they are up to Jaise's standards."

Amoriah darkened once more.

"They are up to Jaise's standards for convicts who are up to Hyacinth's standards!" She snapped and slammed yet another fist. Coris could've sworn the roasted goat leg jumped half a foot into the air.

"My city. My rules! I was foolish myself to assume you have common sense. You want standard treatment? Don't send us sub-standard seed. No Greeneyes. Or cripples. Or retards. Or straight to the Needlehouse they go. If you agree, then we ink it down here and now."

"Fine. But I'm here for a more pressing issue." Winterwen accepted brusquely, sounding annoyed for the first time. Coris sensed her disgust. Perhaps Winterwen was uneasy with Jaise's practice of sending rapists to Hyacinth's man-brothels, especially now she'd seen what would become of them, but she couldn't deny the Right of the Bereft.

"I heard Greeneye visitors to Hyacinth are being kidnapped for their eyeballs and thrown into brothels, to be used as pleasure dolls. I've no doubt some of them are innocent Jaisians."

Amoriah shot his whole family a glare, grinding her teeth. It was difficult for Coris to not look too pleased with himself.

"Their eyeballs are then sold to your trusted advisor, who uses it to fuel an alchemy project commissioned by the King."

Amoriah cracked a nasty smile. Behind her, Hasif stood wide-eyed and petrified.

"So, you've heard, you say?" She drawled, her eyes sliding towards Baron Hadrian, "Why do I have a vague idea which tattling little bird it was you heard that codswallop from?"

"Hadrian is grateful for your friendship and hospitality throughout these years, Amoriah. So long as you don't harm my people." Father stood from his seat, facing wrath with ice.

"You have no evidence connecting Hasif to those brothel Greeneyes." Amoriah threw out her arms, "The eyes she used are all donations. Those Dolls you found in the brothel are all rapists."

"You fool! Are our yeomen rapists, too?" Mother snapped, exasperated at that sheer idiocy.

"I never said that. I said they ran into the wrong crowd and got their eyes stolen, didn't I?" Amoriah retorted, "I offered my women in compensation, remember? You insisted on whipping up a sandstorm out of some dirt in your eye! Your oh-so-precious men could've been found anywhere. It's the word of your son that they were found in that brothel. Your son, who aided and abetted and spent his days in that cell, rolling in shite sarding that Greeneye—"

Amoriah called Meya a name reserved for loose women that was so insulting, a collective gasp tore through the hall. One of Amara's sisters covered the poor girl's ears and cried, "Mother!", Coris's sword was halfway out of its sheathe, but Mother was faster—

"How dare you!" She screamed and launched herself at the foulmouthed Lady. Father stepped between the lunging women, fist clenched around Amoriah's beaded necklace. He leaned close to her, so they came eye to eye.

"You insult my family or my men again, Amoriah, and there will be war." He warned through gritted teeth. Amoriah glowered but sealed her lips. He freed her, but didn't retreat,

"We also have the testimony of Dizadh and Lady Agnesia of Graye. And your son, Ahmundi. I could have them summoned here to speak before this audience. Or you could save yourself any more disgrace than what you have already brought upon the name of your ancestors, and order an investigation on your advisor and that brothel now."

Amoriah trembled with rage and desperation, eyes bulging, veins throbbing at her temple. The long silent Winterwen then offered her cold ultimatum,

"Until I have made sure no innocent Jaisian is in that brothel, consider all trade between us suspended, Amoriah."

Silence fell. Hasif had eyes for none but her Lady, her most ardent patron, who was glancing between Baron Hadrian and Lady Jaise. Fear and pride battled in her eyes. At long last, her shoulders sagged and she deflated. Amoriah hung her head, calling dully to her subjects,

"Guards, prepare transport to the Pleasure Lane for Lady Jaise, Baron Hadrian and I. And detain Healer Hasif for questioning."

Not a soul moved to carry out her command. There was a pause of shock only Hyacinthians of the court could fully comprehend. The Lady Hyacinth had condemned her most trusted advisor, ordered a woman of the revered Hasif blood to be imprisoned. It was unprecedented. Even Hasif made no attempt to flee. They simply couldn't believe their ears.

"Guards!" Amoriah snarled into the ringing silence, and the guards' training overtook personal reservations. Two gigantic female warriors standing behind the grand table strode up and seized each of Hasif's arms, steering her towards the small backdoor.

"No! My lady! No! Please!" Hasif screamed and pulled and kicked and fought, tears streaming down her face, "You must understand! I have done no wrong! I am carrying out Freda's work. I have done nothing but dedicate my life to the betterment of Latakia! We Greeneyes are a burden on this three lands! I must lead my people to salvation! We must earn our place in the Heights! We must pay the price of our existence! Let us free ourselves from this burden we are to Freda's land! Lest we sink to the bowels of the Lake! Unhand me! Unhand me!"

Her curses and sermons continued even after the guards had unhooked her foot from the doorframe and dragged her through, echoing further and further down the unseen hallway. Amoriah sank, weak-kneed, onto her chair, her head in her hand.

Burden on the Land. Place in the Heights. Price of our existence.

Coris thanked Freda neither Meya nor Atmund were here to witness the tirade. Considering their past, they were no doubt the most susceptible of the eight Greeneyes to this poisonous faith that had already claimed Persephia. He stole a glance at his parents—Father was embracing Mother—then Lady Jaise, and was surprised to find her downcast, staring at her feet. There was a sorrowful, pondering expression on her face, as if she were shaken to the core by those words, even when she was not a Greeneye.

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(to be continued)