[i][b]We cut to black...[/b][/i]

[i][b]Some time later...[/b][/i]

Nahla is sitting in a chair opposite from Ruz's couch. Her clothes are wrinkled and disheveled, and she tries to hide the shame that lingers behind her eyes. She tries not to make eye contact with the chained fanning man. She can’t bear his judgement, nor the possibility of seeing herself in his expression.

"So, about our Sultan," Nahla inquires, cutting through the awkward silence, "I think Grace-of-Heaven could use a more fitting distraction. She's a... [i]nice[/i] girl and all, but she isn't cut out to lead in her current state. Of course, that's not going to stop her from trying, but perhaps it's best we keep her occupied elsewhere."

[i]More control,[/i] she told herself. Nahla leans back in her seat, one leg kicked over the other, arms spread. She was clumsy and careless, but she demanded the space and attention. If her little plan were to go off right, she needed to prove her worth.

"See, in my home kingdom, we have a saying. 'A miner shall stay in the mines for but a river and a ruby.' My Sultan thinks she wants to lead because she is malcontent with being kept here. If you should so permit it, Lady Ruz, [i]I[/i] might be the answer she seeks. Give me the chance to sneak out, to bring her small gifts of the beauty of Sjakal. Let [i]me[/i] become her hope, and we can get rid of those thoughts of changing things when her eyes are dazzled with  twinkling lights and the deep, refreshing waters of the sea."