[b]Nahla![/b]

Grace-of-Heaven shines. Her eyes are bright with that irrepressible hope that her guardian has tried her best to stamp out of her. Even so, she refuses to let this hope smother her affection for Yasmin, Lila and Taima; she wants to be back by dawn, and sleep away the morning (as, to be honest, is customary in the harem anyway; late nights and lazy mornings are common).

“Yes,” she says, and takes one of your hands in hers. “We’ll [i]do[/i] it. Together.”

Then she leans in and impulsively kisses you on the mouth. This isn’t the first time it’s happened; there’s not a lot of personal space in the harem, even if mouths are usually covered. It’s her way of showing affection. But just when it could, maybe, be a little more than that, she pulls away.

Are you disappointed?

Even if you are, you’d better hide it. She’ll need a lot of preparation: a beautiful dress, strategic weakening of the top, braids and decorations, and plenty of makeup to accentuate her features. Who helps you with everything but the weakening?

[hr]

[b]Silsila Om![/b]

Submit? Submission is not in Rosethal’s [i]vocabulary.[/i] Not while she has tricks and Hosts and pride. The only way to win this is to physically render her incapable of battle. To make her armor clatter to the floor, unable to recohere without her command; to stop her from talking and summoning up her slaves to defeat you when she becomes desperate; to smother her in shining, sweat-slicked gold until she goes limp and you can carry her off the battlefield.

Then Merov Ekh will reward you, your name will be elevated and praised by the Fire Wheels, and Rosethal will be dangled from her ankles to make fun of her. (And nothing more; Merov Ekh would punish any of her followers for risking Ruz’s favor by pushing too far.)

But if you were to throw, to yield, to allow yourself to be overthrown, then Merov Ekh would allow you to be dragged off by the victorious sorceress, and judging from her demeanor right now, the Almighty alone knows what would happen next…

[hr]

[b]Soot![/b]

Ruz’s eyes flash with… intrigue? “Perhaps some pieces to reassure the people that I am their guardian. Their mother, even. Have I not protected them? Kept them safe? Fed them, disciplined them, allowed them to aspire? And, after all, if you can do [i]this[/i] with a barbarian brute, I wonder what you would do with a [i]better[/i]—“

“Word from the Sultan, your most illustrious excellence,” says the servant at the door. Ruz lets her hand fall from under your chin, where she was tilting your head up. Did you even notice? Where were you staring, little Soot?

She takes the missive and scans it as you fumble your paints and brushes into their lacquerware cases. And then she chuckles, in that self-satisfied way of hers.

“Yes, allow me an answer, just a moment. Soot: stay.” And then, well, you have to, right? There with the model and the servant and the cases, until Ruz returns a sealed note to be returned to the Sultan. The messenger leaves, and she turns to you, appraising you.

“No, that won’t do at all,” she says. “Not for dinner with [i]her.[/i] Follow me, girl.”

You’re about to get a makeover.

[hr]

[b]Birsi![/b]

“Don’t [i]be[/i] like that,” the Fire Wheel says, not yet angry but starting towards it. She grabs at your glove, tries to pull it off, drunkenly laughing. “We’re [i]friends,[/i] aren’t we? Working together? Keeping the [i]peace?[/i]”

Her voice suddenly lowers. She’s stumbled into a resentment unexpectedly . “Yeah. We’re friends. Which is why we let you all parade around and play soldier. You ever been in a battle, palace girl? Ever used that little knife of yours?”

Are you going to let her keep controlling the conversation? Is she right that you’re untested by battle? Is that one of the sacred walls she’s backed you up against?