Private Tales Nothing and Everything

[Settra]

Blood dripped to the floor, and Settra let out a pained gasp. He couldn't be sure whose it was, least of all it it was his own. He panted as he limped down the hallway, rife with the bodies of the fallen, wincing in pain and able to stand only by the grace of the wall he was leaned against.

This was not what Settra had wanted. It never had been. All he'd wanted was to spend his life in peace with her. With Nym. He took another labored step forward, dragging his other leg behind him. He was tired...so very tired. The black pulled at the corners of his vision like a succubus, bidding him to stay, to let it wrap him in its ambient embrace.

Not yet.

Settra coughed. Felt something warm come up with it that dripped from his lips and down his chin, spattering the floor beneath him. He could see the dawn emanating from the balcony at the end of the hall, radiating its warmth and light through the space around him, fighting with the darkness that clawed at him.

"Nym..." he called out, hoarse, barely audible. And in the light of dawn, all he could see, all he wanted to see, was her.

---

24 Hours Before​

Life in Salitra had not been what Settra had expected. Certainly the life of a ruler was one that he had assumed would be busy. A life of self-sacrifice, of politics and guile. What Settra had not expected was exactly how much it would take out of Nymeasha, and exactly how much of her time would be devoured by it. With each passing day he saw her less and less until she began to resemble an enigma.

Of course, he admired her commitment...surely she'd been the right choice to rule Salitra. Medja had not been wrong in her judgment. No one could have committed herself to her city and people the way that Nym had. That and Settra trusted her. He believed in her. This would pass eventually. The Council of Eleven would eventually reach a state of unity such that Salitra could behave autonomously. Settra just needed to be patient and keep to his duty, to keep the light of his life safe.

Patience had its limits, though. Even for Settra. A month of effort had come to fruition now, and as he roused from his slumber the former assassin scanned the room he shared with his Sultana in the hopes she had not already departed to begin her busy day. Today had to be perfect...had she slept? Had be beaten her to waking?

 

[Nym]

Nymeasha, burdened by exhaustion, once again found solace elusive as sleep danced on the periphery of her wearied consciousness. Only a scant few hours of rest left her trapped in a liminal space, where dreams, at times, seamlessly intertwined with reality. The rustle of a warm breeze whispered through sheer curtains as Nym stood on the balcony beyond, draped in a gold, silken nightgown.

Emerald eyes, rimmed with dark circles, surveyed the soldiers below, meticulously gathering in the courtyard. From her vantage point, she discerned subtle imperfections in their formations, noted a lagging step here and there, a testament to the toll exacted by early rises and exhaustive training. An exasperated huff escaped her lips, accompanied by inaudible mutterings, as her gaze shifted towards the Eastern horizon.

The absence of a visible threat did little to assuage her unease; she knew well that danger often lurked just beyond sight. She had already contended with numerous adversaries within her city—individuals who fancied themselves worthy of dismantling her claim on Salitra. Nymeasha remained ever vigilant. Attempts on her life had ranged from insidious poisons to serpentine plots, and even brazen acts of aggression. Her tolerance for traitors was nonexistent, and the Sultana met defiance with unyielding resolve.

Nymeasha had saw to it that the city was rebuilt, that her people were well fed. The least she deserved was reciprocated respect. As the Sultana, she knew that respect was earned, not only through benevolence but through the unwavering demonstration of authority. If allegiance was not willingly granted, Nymeasha understood the language of fear, and she spoke it fluently.

 

[Settra]

The Sultana had already risen--or perhaps had never come to bed. Settra quietly hoped it was not the latter. Her repeated sleepless nights had to have taken a toll on the poor woman. It had to have been a vicious cycle she now found herself in, stress and anxiety robbing her of rest, and that lack of rest only feeding her woes. Today had to go well. It just had to.

Settra roused, stretched, and walked through the bedroom to join Nymeasha on the balcony. He made his presence known in advance, aware of both the habitual silence instilled in him by his upbringing as well as Nym's recent jumpiness, by letting out an audible yawn as he approached her.

The former assassin then softly pressed into Nym's back, wrapping broad arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Still restless, I see."

Settra looked below to observe what his Sultana observed. Soldiers. Her worries increased with each passing day, and it brought him some deal of concern. As Nym's stresses increased, her grip around the city grew tighter and tighter. It didn't take a politician to see what she was doing.

"Will you join me for breakfast?" he asked, rubbing one of her arms with a weathered hand.

 

[Nym]

Settra's audible yawn punctuated the otherwise silent morning, and Nym's lips twitched slightly, appreciating the gentle herald to his approach. They were each well versed in a stealthy approach, and well aware of how unwise it was to sneak up on one coiled so tightly as she was. As his arms encircled her, she leaned into the reassuring strength with a deep sigh, finding a momentary sanctuary.

"Hm.. I suppose that's an understatement." she murmured, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. The weight of her responsibilities seemed to intensify with each passing day, and she couldn't escape the perpetual cycle of anxiety and sleeplessness. The city demanded her vigilance, and her worries manifested in an ever-tightening grip on its affairs.

Settra's proposal of breakfast interrupted further contemplation, his hands comforting on her skin. A moment of silence lingered before Nym turned her head slightly, meeting Settra's gaze. In the quiet depth of her emerald eyes, he could discern a mixture of weariness and gratitude. However, at the prospect of sharing a moment of peace with him, her features warmed. When was the last thing she had done something so simple as to share a meal with him?

"Yes," she replied with a curling smile. "I'd like that."

She turned to face him, suppressing the shudder that spider-walked across her back as she turned it on her city and the world beyond. Her hand rose to settle on his cheek, her eyes searching his for the rare memories of simpler times. How long would it take for her to feel secure here within her home? To feel safe enough to enjoy such moments every day? How long would he put up with her?

"I'll get dressed, and I'll join you." she smiled, standing up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips.

 

[Settra]

Settra's lips teased upward into a gentle smile. Emoting still didn't come terribly easy to him these days, but around Nym it felt...well, far more natural than anywhere else. Only she could tease that out of him. He savored every little touch she offered him, be it the graze of her fingers or the peck on his lips. Her agreeing to step one of many of his plan for the day definitely helped to earn that little grin of his.

"Wonderful! Good. I, um...suppose I should dress as well," he surmised, doing a poor job of containing his excitement. Gods, he felt like a fool. He could take a life with all the callousness and ease of a mason stacking bricks, but hundreds forbid he try to keep a surprise from his partner.

She pulled away, breaking that warm, olive gaze that he was so wont to get lost in. He stepped back into their room as well, withdrawing to his own corner to don the fine, silken casual wear that he was so privileged to have been afforded as the consort of the Sultana.

He dressed quickly, then stepped out into the hallway to wait for her. He was going to savor every last minute he could get with Nym this day.

 

[Nym]

Nym smirked in the same gentle way she always had when he seemed in any way flustered around her, and her chest squeezed. "I suppose you should." she smiled.

The Sultana attended to her morning routine with a certain grace that matched her regal stature. She bathed quickly and dressed in fine, black gossamer that clung to her bronzed skin, accentuated by gold jewellery crafted into serpents, their emerald eyes winking in the light. Her dark, silken waves of hair were dressed with fine gold chains, adding a touch of elegance to her formidable appearance.

Now adorned with weapons, both visible and concealed and most likely coated in venom, she was able to move with some degree of comfort and confidence through the palace. Despite the weight of her responsibilities and the fear that constantly coiled in her mind, she carried herself with as much graceful assurance as she could.

Stepping into the hallway and finding Settra waiting, a soft breath of laughter escaped her, her cheeks warming. "You.. don't need to wait in the hallway for me," she gently chided, her hand lifting to settle on his cheek as she smiled fondly. "This is your home as much as it is mine, Settra.."

"I'm sorry. I have been distant." she sighed, her head tilting. "I hope to remedy that, soon," she added, her expression briefly reflecting a hint of concern.

"Now about this breakfast," she continued, shifting the focus with a playful glint in her eyes, ready to share a moment of normalcy.

 

[Settra]

Ashen-brown eyes trailed Nymeasha as she stepped out of their room, clocking the more obvious weapons she carried on her person. Settra had never given too much thought to the act of carrying them; blades were an extension of his own body, as the Shifra had always taught him. An assassin without a weapon was generally no assassin at all.

So why then did it bring him some small degree of concern seeing his love bearing her fangs on her way to breakfast? She, too, was raised as an assassin after all.

Settra pushed himself from the wall he'd been leaning against, again happy just to feel Nym's touch.
"I know. I just didn't want to make you feel rushed, nor did I want to miss the walk to the dining hall with you," he replied, unable to stave off a small smile. As they began to walk, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side.

"It's alright, Nym. I know how things have been," he assured her, squeezing her a bit tighter. Now it was time to be on to lighter matters.

Settra had been quite certain that he'd managed to get down a "smirk" since he'd begun living with Nymeasha, and as he met her mischievous gaze, approximate a smirk he did.
"Yes, breakfast. I took the liberty of speaking with your attendants. I believe you'll find the spread that awaits us to be to your liking."

He was tipping his hand just a bit by revealing even that much, but letting Nym know there was something of a surprise couldn't hurt anything.

 

[Nym]

Nymeasha allowed herself to be enveloped in Settra's embrace as they walked, the warmth and safety of his touch a comfort to her. As he explained his choice to wait for her, Nym felt a soft smile tug at the corners of her lips. "I appreciate that," she admitted, and his reassurances about understanding the challenges she faced drew her in closer, her head resting against his chest in silent acknowledgment of his unwavering support.

As Settra shifted the conversation back to breakfast, Nym's verdant eyes sparkled with curiosity, a blend of gratitude and anticipation in her gaze as she smiled up at him. "Oh, you did, did you?" she responded with a quiet laugh, feeling her tension loosen that bit more. "Well, you've certainly managed to pique my interest."..

 

[Settra]

He might've been overstepping his bounds, all things considered, but the hope was that the ends would justify the means. Nym had a way of giving Settra a taste of the ends with every passing interaction the two of them had. A warmth spread through him as she nestled against him and the two moved onwards in sync.
"Indeed," Settra said back as the duo rounded a corner. He fell back into his usual quiet through the remainder of the short walk, Settra ever happy to enjoy Nym's company even in silence.

As Nym and Settra entered the dining hall they would find that the table had indeed already been adorned with an illustrious breakfast, with far more platters of food and drink than two people could ever reasonably consume in one sitting. Among the dishes on display were several items that Nym would've professed to be her favorites in her time growing up within the palace.
"You know, figuring out the favorite foods of someone who was kept hidden for most of her life was...challenging. I'm pretty sure I owe Lansa a few favors now," Settra said with a slight smile and a single, breathy chuckle. He looked to Nym and gestured towards the table. "What do you think?"

 

[Nym]

As her eyes were met with a spectacle of culinary splendor, Nym's brow quirked. The table, adorned with an array of sumptuous dishes, beckoning her closer, and Settra's careful planning was evident in every detail.
Nestled amidst the decadent spread of her favourite pastries, chocolate dipped citrus fruits and berries, Nym's gaze immediately alighted upon a nostalgic sight—a platter of her favorite round, sweetbread dumplings. Soaked in honey and delicately dusted with powdered sugar, they emanated an irresistible allure, evoking fond memories of an extremely rare childhood indulgence.

The mere sight of them stirred a flutter of anticipation in her chest, igniting a spark of joy in her eyes, and her heart swelled with gratitude as she savoured the sweet aroma that filled the air. With a soft smile, she turned to Settra, her eyes alight with appreciation. "I think.. You are quite the romantic." she murmured, her voice laced with warmth. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she smiled up at him. "It's wonderful. You're wonderful.. Thank you."

 

[Settra]

Settra returned Nym's smile and embrace, happy in knowing that he had done well. If this small gesture was enough to earn a moment of the Nym he knew prior to their return to Salitra, then he was certain that the remainder of his surprise would land the way he had wanted it to.
"I am...trying," he replied, never particularly good at accepting compliments. "It's my pleasure, Nym."

He approached the table, pulling Nym's seat out for her before taking his own, and allowed her to start digging in before he did the same. As breakfast progressed he came to realize there wasn't going to be any better or worse time to spring the true nature of his planning to the Sultana, and so he decided to cross the Rubicon.

"I...have a confession to make. There's more to this than just breakfast," Settra admitted after finishing a bite of some sort of breakfast cake that he'd never have been allowed to have at the monastery. He braced himself...

 

[Nym]

Nym savored each bite of her beloved sweet breads. It wasn't often that she indulged in such things, but for Settra, she would allow herself this sweetness, and she flashed a bright smile at him.

Mention of a confession had her smile falter however, and when it seemed he had more planned, her curiosity piqued, and she set down her utensils, giving Settra her full attention. Despite the hint of apprehension in his voice, she offered him a reassuring smile, a silent gesture of encouragement.

"Go on.." she urged gently, her emerald eyes soft as she smiled at him, licking the remnants of honey from her lips.

 

[Settra]

Settra cleared his throat. Nym at least seemed amenable to something more. Time to get substantially more wordy than he was used to.

"I've been speaking with members of the Council for a while now. The Aspects, especially, but Shadya and several of the Savants as well. I've argued that you work too hard, without getting to enjoy the...luxuries, that I've seen come with royalty," he breathed, trying to make sure he was phrasing things appropriately. "The Council...agreed. So...I came to an accord with them."

He closed his eyes. Inhale, then exhale. Why did this feel harder than doing a job as an Onyx Hand?
"Two days. All of today and tomorrow. No work, no responsibilities. Just you and me, at the retreat by the coast."

 

[Nym]

Nym's brow slowly rose as Settra spoke, and the moment he was finished, her brow knit. There was little she could do to suppress the simmering anger from slowly rising within her. Why had he taken it upon himself to discuss her workload and responsibilities with the Council without her knowledge or consent? Did they perceive her as unfit to rule, or worse, think she were crumbling under the pressure?

Though she believed her lover's intent behind the gesture was for her own wellbeing, she struggled to maintain her composure. "Settra," she began, her voice strained. "I... I appreciate your intentions, I do. But to discuss such matters with the Council behind my back...." She trailed off, her brows furrowing as she struggled to articulate her feelings.

"You had no right."

A conflicted silence lingered between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Despite her reservations, Nym couldn't deny the allure of Settra's proposal. Yet, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of betrayal and indignation at his actions.

She stood, cleaning her hands on a cloth before she threw it down and looked at him, her green eyes sharp, though it was the soft quiver in her voice that betrayed the hurt she felt at what she perceived to be some form of regret.

"Salitra is my responsibility. This is who I am now, and I'll make it prosper, even if it kills me, and I won't allow anyone to push me out. If you desire a retreat then you're free to go, and if you desire company you might take Shadya with you, seeing as you are so close." she waved a hand and turned to leave.

 

[Settra]

The assassin felt as if a knife had been plunged into his gut, but his expression barely shifted.
"Please...forgive me, Nymesha. I meant no disrespect. I only thought to give us--both of us--a chance to be close for a time," he tried to explain. He had never intended for this to come off as anything more than a gift, and instead she had taken it as an insult. His worst fears had been made manifest.

"Nym..." he stood from his seat and rounded the table, chasing after her and daring to place a hand gently on her arm. "I don't care for Shadya. I care for you. That is why I wanted to give you this. It is...hard...to find a gift for a queen. But there is nothing more precious than time. And I wanted to spend it with you."

At the very least, Settra had to mend this little fracture. He couldn't let it lie with her upset.
"If you don't wish to go, I can't make you. You are ahead on your work, and Salitra can afford this time...but if you wish to stay, I will not leave your side. I will never leave your side."

 

[Nym]

Nym tensed with the urge to fight the moment she felt his hand on her arm, but she didn't need to fight him, she knew that. Still, she snatched her arm away and set her glare on his face. "I don't need gifts, Settra. I need to prove that I am capable of my title, that I can do everything that I said I would do and restore my name. You think I don't hear what people say about me?" she laughed under her breath, though there was no light in her eyes. "I am nowhere near ahead, Settra. Not until every enemy I have is dead and buried and this city rises above the rest of them."

"Do you think I truly trust a single soul in this city?.." she asked, her brow arching. "You were the exception, and now I hear that you are speaking with my council about how poor Nym needs a break?" she waved a hand and dragged her fingers into her hair as she started pacing.

"I want to know who agreed. And then I want them brought to me."

 

[Settra]

"I..." Settra recoiled, defeated, hurt, but mostly...worried. When had that goal entered Nymeasha's mind? Utter destruction of her "enemies," supremacy of her city...had she always held such aspirations?

Settra's visage steeled over, callousing quickly as it ever had. Sometimes the teachings of his monastery had their benefits.
"I would remind you that I have put my life on the line for yours many times, Nymeasha. I live for you still, and I would die for you still. Forgive me for overstepping," he deadpanned as though it were the first time he had met her once more. Forgive me for wanting to spend time with you, was perhaps more accurate to his heart. But his heart was weak, and an assassin had no room for weakness and no need for a heart.

Settra knelt before the Sultanna, a fist on the ground.
"Several of the council were indifferent. Several supported the idea of the gift. Only two outright disagreed. Would you have me kill the second group? The first as well?"

 

[Nym]

His reaction was a poisoned spike to the heart, but she too was quick to steel her expression as she watched him kneel before her. "Don't do that. Don't turn this around and make me a monster - I have every right to be angry. I did not ask you to kneel." she hissed irritably, still pacing as she considered her next step.

She needed advisors, but she trusted none of them, least of all those who agreed that she should vacate the throne for a few days rest.

"What would you have me do, Settra?" she asked him sharply. She would not be made feel guilty for whatever was necessary for her survival as Sultana. "You understand that so many of my own people would still see my head mounted on the palace walls? You're aware that every day people conspire against me? You think all of my enemies are only outside these walls?" she laughed incredulously under her breath and shook her head.

"I can take no chances." Nym frowned and stopped, turning to face him. "From now on, if you wish to spend time with me, if you wish to gift me in such a way - I need no fucking permission nor approval from anyone."

 

[Settra]

Every move he made only seemed to exacerbate the wound he'd created. The stress that Nym had come under, the burden that she bore...how great it must have become if she had been pushed to these lengths. Settra bowed his head deeper.
"...I knelt out of respect. I am devoted to you, Nym. Your desires are my own."

She spoke of politics, of the twisted games that people in the upper echelons of society played with each other to grasp for power and privilege. Such matters were the domain of people like Medja, far beyond the understanding of a simple trained blade.
"I am an assassin. Your guard, yes, but a killer by nature. My offer was genuine. If you wish your enemies removed, you need only say the word...but I don't know anything else. I cannot tell you how to outmaneuver these enemies."

Settra dared to lift his head, to look into Nym's eyes.
"...To spend time with you was all I wanted. But there is nothing I would not do to make you feel safe."

 

[Nym]

Her gut twisted as he reminded her of his devotion. She had never doubted that, and later, when she was calmer, she'd remind herself to tell him so, but right now her pride was too badly bruised to offer words of reassurance and comfort.

Nym had not truly understood her father's mind until she had returned to Salitra and taken its throne. She had been his blade for many years, doing exactly what she considered asking Settra to do right now and murdering any she suspected of conspiration. Why, though, were they still conspiring? Her people were far better off now than they had been under her father's rule. They were no longer starving, homes had been rebuilt and markets and trade reopened. In comparison, they were thriving, and she would ensure they continued to do so. So why?

She was not her father, but she understood him so very clearly. The Sultana had to make an example, and she considered having them exiled, branded as traitors even, but that only gave a person a taste for vengeance and vendetta.

"Then see it done. And I want the people to know that they died because in their greed, they sought to have me removed from my throne and see Salitra starve once more, and that is something I cannot allow to happen. Have their heads mounted and let the word be spread." she frowned. She realised that she had no idea which of her council members death warrants she'd just signed, but so too did she realise that she didn't care.

 

[Settra]

"See it done," she said. Settra rose to his feet, his eyes glass, his expression blank.
"So it shall be," he stated flatly. He would begin with those that gave their blessing to the trip. It was morning now; by night, the Council of Eleven would have lost over a third of its members. That was the price that all would pay.

"I will go immediately."

And so he did. There were lives to end.

---

The decision of whom to dispatch first was a difficult one. Eliminating the strongest at the start was the wisest move, but it was hard to determine whom was stronger: Sunder Baktosh of the Haathee Clan or Lansa of Ragash. Sunder was a mighty warrior and a wise chieftain, but he was somewhat long in the tooth; Lansa, meanwhile, was physically weak, but highly resourceful and crafty, with the backing of Medja herself.

In the end, it was Lansa's head that first rolled at Nymeasha's feet. With no time to prepare and no reason to expect it, severing her neck was quick, easy, and painless. By the time her head had been delivered, of course, Sunder was also dead, but delivering such tangible proof was far more difficult given the man's elephantine stature. Instead, Settra tossed his crown and a severed tusk upon the floor immediately after Lansa's head.

Only ninety minutes had passed since the Sultana had sent Settra to conduct his grim harvest. Neither victim had even had time to scream.

"The other two who agreed will be much easier to finish. Sunder Baktosh and Lansa of Ragash are no more," Settra assured his love, already kneeling once more.

 

[Nym]

Nym stood motionless. Expressionless. Her mind reeled from the swift and brutal execution of her council members as she stared down at the trophies at her feet. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her shoulders, a burden that she had never anticipated bearing. She had wielded death as a tool many times before, her hands stained with the blood of those who dared to oppose her father. But this was different. This time, she had commanded Settra to carry out her will, to be the instrument of her vengeance.

As she the eyes of Lansa stared back at her, frozen wide in the shock of her last moments, she couldn't deny the sense of satisfaction that simmered beneath the surface. They had gambled with her throne, and now they had paid the price.

As Settra knelt before her once more, offering his assurance, Nym struggled to find the words to respond. Her heart was heavy with the weight of her decisions, yet there was a sense of vindication, a grim satisfaction in knowing that she had asserted her power and dealt with those who had wronged her, swiftly.

"Thank you." she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed as she stared down at him,
guilt and shame gnawed at her conscience as he knelt before her once more. She reached out hesitantly to touch his shoulder.. "Stop doing that. Please." she frowned, though her tone was soft.

"I'm sorry.. Your gesture was kind."

 

[Settra]

The weight of the deaths weighed upon Settra as well. He was a tool at Nym's disposal, yes, but it had also been her that had encouraged him to live as more than a weapon. More than a husk. Now he felt like nothing more, once again. All until she touched him.

"I do not think Medja will see it that way," he replied at last, lifting his head to meet her eyes. There was pain in his own. "But I am no longer hers. I am yours, Nymeasha."

This was a betrayal most dour. Lansa was a fellow Hand. By all rights she should have been like extended family to him, and likely she had been like a daughter to the regent Empress.

That was to say nothing of Sunder's tribe, either; for the chieftain of Salitra's oldest ally to be killed by the Sultana's hand was unspeakable. Not even Sultan Emir, in the depths of his madness, had dared. Such politics were all unknown to Settra. All that mattered was that Nym was happy.

 

[Nym]

Nym's fingers lingered on Settra's shoulder, his words cutting through her thoughts, the mention of Medja a reminder of the wider repercussions of her actions. Yet, in this moment, all she could focus on was the man before her, the one who had carried out her commands without question.

"Perhaps not. But I cannot let that paralyse me. My enemies.. must learn that I will not be undermined, not by anyone. Not even those closest to me."

Her eyes softened as she met his gaze, seeing the pain reflected in his eyes. The guilt gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside. There was no room for weakness now, no space for hesitation. Yet, she could not ignore the toll it took on him, on both of them.

"You are mine, Settra." she whispered, her hand moving to cup his cheek. "As I am yours." She paused, drawing a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I will not ask you to do such things lightly again. But know that your loyalty, your dedication... they mean everything to me." she swallowed.

As hard as she tried to look content with her actions, she was no fool. Impulsive, yes. Her actions had been clouded by anger. She should have asked the names of those she so quickly sentenced to death, she should have questioned them herself. Should have considered the wider ripple her actions might cause. But it was too late for that.

 

[Settra]

"As I am yours."

Warmth and light bloomed once more within Settra's chest. He rose to his feet and drew Nymeasha in.
"You are mine, and I am yours," he echoed softly, holding his love close. "There is nothing I will not do for you, Nym."

Even if it meant the Empire's doom. Medja's doom. His own doom. Nothing but the cold embrace of death would pry him from his commitment to her.
"I will not betray you. I will not abandon you. I am with you, to the end."

---

All the while familiar eyes watched, just out of sight. The teeth of some unruly predator gnashed, plans not only foiled, but friends, allies, and innocents slain in the process. How could something so simple, so harmless, go so afoul?

Silent feet stepped away. For the watcher it was more clear than ever: the Mad Sultan's blood had boiled within his daughter, only far more dangerously than it had within Emir. Nymeasha had become a new tyrant, and the people would suffer if something wasn't done. Immediately.