Whispers of Qidrese(Kanesha Andrews) The city of Qidrese. However, Qidrese isn't just a city; it's a vibrant tapestry woven with the threads of diverse talents and personalities. Imagine a place where scholars delve into ancient texts within sun-dappled libraries, their murmurs blending with the rhythmic tap of a poet's quill against parchment. In bustling marketplaces, artists display their creations – vibrant paintings, intricate sculptures, and melodies that dance on the air. Merchants from far and wide gather, their voices a symphony of languages as they barter for exotic wares.

But Qidrese's beauty goes beyond its outward charm. Its people are the heart of the city. Kindness radiates from their interactions, a genuine compassion that welcomes strangers and fosters a sense of community. The air hums with a lively energy, a contagious enthusiasm that spills from lively conversations in bustling cafes to impromptu celebrations that erupt in the city squares.

Far from the bustling city walls, nestled amidst rolling hills and verdant valleys, lies the magnificent palace of Xanathus Girrah, King of Qidrese. This grand structure, a testament to the kingdom's prosperity, beckons with its soaring towers and intricate carvings. Within its opulent halls resides the King himself, a figure shrouded in an aura of power and grace.

Xanathus Girrah is renowned throughout Qidrese for his captivating presence. Tall with a leaned muscled body, his hair, the color of ebony, falls to his shoulders, framing a pair of piercing blue eyes that hold the wisdom of a seasoned leader and the warmth of a compassionate soul. His tanned skin speaks of a life spent outdoors, a man comfortable in the saddle and amongst the elements.

His bravery is legendary, tales of his valor whispered in hushed tones throughout the kingdom. He is a man who leads from the front, his courage an inspiration to his people. Yet, his strength is tempered with an intellect that surpasses most. He possesses a keen understanding of the world and the people he governs, his decisions guided by logic and a deep concern for the well-being of his subjects.

But perhaps the most captivating aspect of Xanathus Girrah is his kindness. He is a man known for his gentle nature and unwavering empathy. His heart beats with compassion for his people, and his reign is marked by fairness and generosity. This rare combination of traits – bravery, intelligence, and kindness – has made him a beacon of hope in Qidrese, a king who not only rules with a firm hand but also with a heart full of love for his kingdom.

This is why countless women throughout Qidrese dream of becoming his queen. They yearn to stand beside such a man, to bask in the warmth of his presence and contribute to the legacy he is building. For Xanathus Girrah is not just a king; he is a symbol of everything good and noble that Qidrese stands for.

However, as of late, the king has been solemn and bored. He walks around his palace and looks at all that he has, but none of it has brought him any joy. His Viziers have suggested that he venture from Qidrese, to discover and conquer new lands.

However, he has no interests in such endeavors. Even the concubines no longer strike his fancy. At a lost of what to do, he simply carries on the day to day duties of being a king. Those closest to the king are growing concerned about him. One of them is his High Guard, Confidant and best friend, Amonis Badacia

Amonis almost mirrors King Xanathus in looks, except his hair is short and his eyes are hazel.

Night enveloped the palace, casting shadows across the stone walls. King Xanathus stood on the moonlit balcony of his bedchamber, the cool breeze ruffling his regal attire. The doors, left ajar, allowed the night to seep in, and it was then that Amonis, his loyal confidant, knocked softly.

“My apologies for interrupting you, Your Majesty. However, may I come in?” Amonis asked, his voice respectful yet tinged with concern.

“Yes, you may,” Xanathus replied, his gaze never leaving the horizon. Amonis stepped inside, joining the king on the balcony. The city sprawled below, its labyrinthine streets illuminated by torchlight. The distant hum of life reached their ears—a symphony of existence, both mundane and extraordinary.

“Your Majesty, what troubles you?” Amonis ventured, his eyes searching Xanathus’s face.

“What makes you think that I am troubled?” Xanathus countered, his voice edged with weariness.

“We have been friends since our youth,” Amonis said gently. “I know when something weighs upon you.”

Xanathus sighed, his gaze drifting beyond the city walls. “Is this all there is, Amonis?” he mused aloud.

“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” Amonis asked, intrigued.

“I survey my domain,” Xanathus continued, “my dominion that stretches as far as the eye can see. Yet, within this vastness, a hollowness gnaws at me. Power, control—they are but glittering facades. True happiness eludes me, like a distant star.”

“It sounds as if you long for something more,” Amonis observed.

“Like what?” Xanathus’s question echoed into the night.

Amonis leaned against the balcony railing. “My mother-in-law believes that when we feel lost, it’s because we yearn for something we haven’t yet found.”

Xanathus turned to him, moonlight etching lines of contemplation on his face. “Do you think I am lost, Amonis?”

“Perhaps, My Lord,” Amonis replied. “But only you can unravel that mystery.”

The city below sparkled—a tapestry of lives, dreams, and secrets. Beyond it lay the ocean, its waves whispering ancient tales. The moon painted a silver path across the water, inviting Xanathus to seek answers in its depths. His blue eyes lingered, torn between duty and longing.

And so, on that moon-kissed balcony, the king grappled with the enigma of his heart.

“Do you wish for me to leave?” Amonis asked.

Xanathus nodded, and Amonis bowed. He turned on his heel and proceeded to walk out.

“Amonis, before you go… how is your wife, Zafina?” Xanathus asked.

Amonis smiled as he stood still. “She is well, my Lord,” he said.

Xanathus smiled. “She has brought such joy to you. You are a fortunate man,” he remarked.

Amonis turned. “On the contrary, Your Majesty. It is the blessings of the Divine Ancient that fill both her and me with joy,” he explained.

Xanathus looked at Amonis thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed that since your marriage, both of you have been in prayer frequently. Perhaps I should try that… maybe I’ll find the answer to my solemnity and boredom,” he mused.

“I think that would be a good idea, Your Majesty,” said Amonis. “I bid you good night, Your Majesty. Blessed dreams,” he added, bowing.

Xanathus nodded as Amonis turned on his heel and exited the king’s bedchamber, closing the doors behind him. Xanathus then turned back to the night sky, gazing up at the moon and stars. He knelt, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.

“Divine Ancient, I seek your guidance. For some time, I’ve felt solemn and bored. I am lost and in need of direction, a purpose. I’ve been told that I long for something missing in my life. Help me find what that is,” Xanathus whispered.

He opened his eyes, stood up, and once again looked up to the night sky, silently expressing his gratitude.

♦♦♦

In the western region of Qidrese, nestled within the vibrant district of Sazire, resides a community of moderate merchants. Amongst them, Vella Nibban, a perfumer and cosmetics maker, calls this place home. Her dwelling, a modest two-story house, stands out for its colorful interior, a reflection of the warmth, friendliness, and compassionate spirit that permeates its very walls.

Vella herself is a woman of striking beauty. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair, now mostly streaked with silver, frames her kind brown eyes. Her complexion, a stunning shade that is a mix of deep copper and ivory, adding a touch of exotic charm to her features.

Her daughter, Estara mirrors her in eye color, hair color and complexion. However, Estara’s hair reaches slightly past her shoulders, but mother and daughter are both rubenesque. On this night, Estara is in her room, writing her in book that contains a number of imaginative stories, essays and prayers that tell of her feelings, hopes and dreams.

As she looks out the window of her bedroom, her eyes look upon the moon and the stars. She has always loved looking at the moon and the stars. A reminder that the Divine Ancient creates such beauty that many either take for granted or never stop to think about. As she looks up at the moon and the stars, a feeling flows over her, causing her to shiver. Estara has a gift for sensing the emotions of others. A gift that she’s had since she was a child. However, recently she has noticed that the gift has grown and changed.

“Someone must have said a prayer to the Divine Ancient” she said to herself.

Estara, herself has made prayers to the Divine Ancient. Mostly prayers of thanks for the simple things such being able to see another day. As she continues to look up at the moon and the stars, she hears a word….that word is longing. She is unsure of what it means and thus says a prayer to the Divine Ancient for clarity. Afterwards, she returns to writing in her book, only to hear her mother’s voice loudly speaking to someone, Estara sighed.

No mystery of who her mother was speaking to as she shook her head. In recent days, Estara’s aunt, Athala Suassa has been constantly complaining that Estara is not yet married. In fact, Athala is disappointed that Estara has not made an attempt to find a husband. Vella has explained to her sister that in time, Estara will find a husband and that she is simply being patient. However, Athala feels that Estara is simply not trying hard enough.

Estara laid her book down as crossed her arms.

Suddenly, the door to Estara’s room swung open, and standing in the doorway was Athala, who glared at her. Athala mirrored both Vella and Estara, though her once-dark wavy hair was now mostly gray.

“When I was your age, I was already married!” she declared.

Estara sighed. “Auntie, why is it so crucial that I find a husband? You’re acting as if my unmarried status reflects poorly on you,” she retorted.

“Well, it does, actually. Many have asked me why my niece remains unmarried. Here you are, twenty-seven years old, and still without a husband,” Athala snapped. “If you spent less time dreaming and writing down all those silly, childish hopes and dreams. And actually focused on finding a husband, you would be married by now!” she added.

Vella grabbed Athala by the arm and pulled her out of Estara’s room with a force that left Athala momentarily stunned. She turned to face Vella, her eyes wide with shock.

“How dare you!” Vella’s voice trembled with anger. “You criticize my daughter for focusing on what makes her happy—writing down her hopes, dreams, and prayers. Instead, you expect her to just throw herself at any man. Why should she do that?”

Athala regained her composure, her expression hardening. “I’m not saying she should throw herself at any man. However, you cannot deny that she hasn’t even tried to find a husband.”

Vella’s eyes narrowed. “Athala, my dear sister, you have no room to criticize my daughter for not being married when you yourself have been married five times over.”

Estara remained silent as Athala glared at Vella, her face flushed with indignation.

“She does not need to know that,” Athala hissed.

“Dear sister, Estara is already well aware of your five former husbands. All of whom divorced you because you became too difficult to deal with,” Vella retorted.

Estara silently nodded, agreeing with her mother. It was no secret that Athala was a difficult woman to deal with—high maintenance, demanding much and giving little in return. As Vella and Athala stood in the hallway arguing, Estara got up from the bed where she had been sitting and quietly closed the door to her room. She walked back to her bed, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.

“Divine Ancient, I come to you because I am being questioned as to who I am as a person and why I am not married. I know in my heart that one day I will find the one to whom I will give my heart and soul. However, it seems that my patience and willingness to focus on myself has irritated my aunt. I ask that you keep me focused on what is important and continue to guide me. I have faith that one day, when you bring together myself and the person who I am destined to give my heart and soul to, it will be with a purpose that will reflect the love we have for each other.”

She ended her prayer with a silent thank you and then returned to writing in her book, her heart feeling lighter and her resolve stronger.

♦♦♦♦

It was early morning, and Xanathus stepped out onto the balcony, his white linen robe fluttering gently in the cool breeze. He watched as the first rays of the sun began to paint the sky with hues of pink and gold. The words Amonis had spoken to him the previous night echoed in his mind.

“If I am longing for something, what could it be?” he had asked himself.

Xanathus knelt before the rising sun, closing his eyes and clasping his hands together in a gesture of prayer.

“Divine Ancient, I thank you for last night’s rest. However, I must admit that it was a restless night as many thoughts went through my mind. I seek your guidance in helping me find whatever it is that I am longing for. Is it a purpose that I am longing for? What is it that I am missing? I put my trust in you that you will help me find the answer,” he said earnestly.

He whispered a silent thank you and stood up, feeling a sense of calm wash over him as he heard a gentle voice within his heart.

“You will find what you seek in the one who will see into your heart.”

Meanwhile, on the left wing of the palace, Zafina stood outside, her dark brown hair cascading down to the middle of her back. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and her shapely, curvaceous figure was accentuated by her sleeveless blue satin dress that reached her ankles, cinched at the waist with a wide leather belt. Her complexion was like that of very light bronze, glowing softly in the morning light.

“Zafina!” a voice called out.

Zafina turned her head towards the voice and smiled brightly.

“Estara!” she exclaimed as she approached her friend and embraced her warmly.

“I am so glad that you were able to make it,” Zafina said, her eyes shining with joy.

“Thank you, although I must admit, I am slightly intimidated to be here at the palace,” Estara confessed.

A puzzled look appeared on Zafina’s face. “Why would you be intimidated?” she asked gently.

“This is the palace, and you are married to the King’s High Guard. I’m sure that a lowly woman who is the daughter of a local cosmetics maker and perfumer would look out of place here,” Estara said, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Zafina looked at Estara with a mixture of affection and exasperation. She could never understand why her best friend and god-sister saw herself as a lowly woman. The dress Estara wore was anything but lowly—a beautifully simple off-the-shoulder light gold dress that reached her ankles, paired with a white corset belt that conformed perfectly to her curvy figure.

“Nonsense, you are my best friend and god-sister. You are always welcome here,” Zafina said, smiling reassuringly.

Estara returned the smile, her worries melting away. “Now, come along. I cannot wait to show you the inside of the palace,” Zafina said, taking Estara’s hand as they entered the left wing door of the palace together.

♦♦♦♦
Estara gasped as she stepped through the grand palace doors. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking. The cool, white marble floor gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted lamps, reflecting the golden light that danced off the countless statues that adorned every corner. Exquisite fabrics, woven with threads of shimmering gold and vibrant hues, hung like ethereal curtains over every doorway, whispering secrets in the gentle breeze. Zafina, sensing Estara's wide-eyed wonder and slightly trembling hands, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They continued their walk, the air thick with the anticipation of what awaited them.

Estara gasped as she stepped through the grand palace doors. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking. The cool, white marble floor gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted lamps, reflecting the golden light that danced off the countless statues that adorned every corner. Exquisite fabrics, woven with threads of shimmering gold and vibrant hues, hung like ethereal curtains over every doorway, whispering secrets in the gentle breeze. Zafina, sensing Estara’s wide-eyed wonder and slightly trembling hands, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They continued their walk, the air thick with the anticipation of what awaited them.

Emerging from the opulent halls, they stepped into a garden that seemed to stretch on forever. Lush greenery carpeted the ground, punctuated by vibrant bursts of colorful flowers in every shade imaginable. Exotic plants, unseen by Estara before, unfurled their leaves like welcoming arms, their fragrance filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness. A massive wading pool, its surface like a mirror reflecting the clear blue sky, beckoned them closer, promising a cool respite from the midday sun. The sheer scale and beauty of the place left Estara speechless, her heart pounding with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Zafina turned to Estara, “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I have been rendered speechless. The palace is so beautiful. I don’t know if I am worthy to be here” said Estara.

“I feel that you are worthy. You are my best friend and my God-sister. I feel that even the Divine Ancient would say that you are worthy to be here” said Zafina. Estara smiled as Zafina took her by the hand and showed her around the garden.

♦♦♦♦
Meanwhile, Xanathus sat in the grand palace library, surrounded by towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He was deeply engrossed in one of the prayer books, its pages worn and delicate from centuries of use. As he read, a particular passage caught his eye:

“If one has so much, yet feels lost, find a path that will lead you to a purpose. Find your purpose and you will no longer be lost,” he read aloud, his voice echoing softly in the vast, silent room.

Xanathus closed the book and bowed his head, whispering a small prayer. The words resonated deeply within him, stirring something in his soul. After a moment of reflection, he reopened the book and continued reading. Just then, he heard this once more…..

“You will find what you seek in the one who sees into your heart.”

Those words again. “You will find what you seek in the one who sees into your heart,” Xanathus repeated aloud, his voice filled with a mix of wonder and contemplation. He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he meditated on the profound message. The silence of the library enveloped him, offering a sanctuary for his thoughts.

The door to the library creaked open, and Amonis, his loyal advisor, stepped inside. Seeing Xanathus deep in meditation, Amonis paused by the door, waiting respectfully.

A few moments later, Xanathus opened his eyes and noticed Amonis standing quietly. “Come in, Amonis,” he said, his voice calm and welcoming.

“I hope I did not disturb you, Your Majesty,” Amonis said as he approached.

“No, you didn’t,” Xanathus replied with a gentle smile. “Is there something you need?”

“Your Majesty, I came to inform you that Zafina’s god-sister is here visiting,” Amonis said.

“God-sister?” Xanathus asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Yes, she was at the wedding,” Amonis explained.

“I must have not noticed her,” Xanathus admitted, a hint of regret in his voice.

Amonis continued, “She is here for the day only. It has been months since the wedding, and Zafina invited her to visit. I meant to inform you earlier, but as you know, my Lord, things have been quite busy here.”

“Well, thank you for informing me now. Tell me, what is the name of Zafina’s god-sister?” Xanathus inquired.

“Estara, Your Majesty. Estara Nibban of Sazire,” Amonis replied.

“She is from Sazire?” Xanathus asked, intrigued.

“Yes, her mother is a perfumer and cosmetics maker. Her father passed away when she was seven years old,” Amonis said, his tone respectful.

Xanathus nodded, lost in thought. “Is there anything else you need, Your Majesty?” Amonis asked.

“No, nothing at the moment. You may go, Amonis,” Xanathus said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Amonis replied, bowing before exiting the library and closing the door behind him.

“Estara, quite a beautiful name,” Xanathus murmured to himself, the name lingering in his mind like a sweet melody.

♦♦♦♦
Outside in the gardens, Zafina and Estara were surrounded by household servants who were listening as Estara told a story about a little girl who made a wish as she threw silver dadnes into a sacred fountain.

“Every day, the little girl threw the dadnes into the fountain that she earned from running errands for the local business owners. She closed her eyes and prayed for her father to come home safely from the military campaign that the king had sent his soldiers on. She dearly loved her father, he was all she had left since her mother had passed away.

One day, a woman walked up to the little girl and asked her, “Why do you throw silver dadnes into the sacred fountain?”.

The little girl answered, “I am making a prayer”.

“What is it that you are praying for?” the woman wanted to know.

“If I tell you, it will not come to pass and I will be sad” said the little girl.

The woman kneeled before the little girl and smiled at her.

“Instead of throwing silver dadnes into the fountain. Take your prayer to the Divine Ancient directly” she said.

“I am not allowed to enter the Shrine of the Divine Ancient...I am too young” the little girl said.

“You need not go to the Shrine. All you need to do is go to a quiet spot and make your prayer to the Divine Ancient there” said the woman.

The little girl thought about what the woman said and then nodded her head. “Alright then, I will go to the Divine Ancient directly. Thank you” she said.

“Of course, many blessings to you and I hope that whatever you pray for comes to pass” said the woman as she stood up.

As the little girl walked away, the woman looked up towards the sky and said, “Please her grant prayer. I will give up my agelessness if you do” said the woman and she walked away.

As Estara continued to tell the story, Xanathus, who was making his way to the conference room just happened to see a huge crowd of servants gathered around Zafina and another woman whom he assumed is her god-sister, Estara. Curious, Xanathus quietly walked out to the garden and stood near a tall shrub. Estara continued on with the story…..

“Late that night, the little girl snuck out of her uncle’s house and made her way to the beach. Once there, she got on her knees, clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

“Divine Ancient….hear my prayer. I pray for my father, Inoz to come home from the war that he is taking part in. He is all that I have, please send him home. It is all that I am asking for” the little girl said as she begin to sob.

As the little girl continued to keel, she soon heard footsteps. She opened her eyes and turned to see that it was her uncle’s maid. She looked at her.

“Are you going to tell my uncle?” the little girl asked.

“No, child. However, let me take you back, all will be well. Have faith” said the maid. The little girl stood up and took the maid’s hand and they went back home. When they return, the little girl thanked the Divine Ancient that her uncle was still asleep. The little girl went to her room, got into bed and closed her eyes.

The next day, the little girl got up, washed her face and hands, rinsed her mouth and got dressed. She quietly exited her bedroom and prayed to the Divine Ancient that her uncle wasn’t awake yet. As she quietly went downstairs, she saw that the maid was in the kitchen, making breakfast. The maid looked sad.

“What is wrong?” the little girl asked the maid.

“Nothing, I will miss you is all” said the maid.

Soon the uncle came downstairs and as usual he demanded breakfast. However, there soon came a knock at the door and the uncle went over to the door and answered it. To his surprise, there stood his brother.

“I am home now, where is my daughter?” his brother asked.

“Father!” said the little girl as she ran up to her father and hugged his legs. Her father picked her up and hugged her tightly. “I am home now and for good. And guess what, a kind sailor has given me a job and I can bring you with me. He has a wife and they have a daughter, about your age” her father said.

“That’s wonderful!” said the little girl.

The uncle glared at his brother, “I have given this child shelter. She has eaten my food and I have paid for her clothes. Where is my recompense?” the Uncle demanded.

The father looked at his brother, “Have you no shame in asking for compensation for taking care of my child, your niece. Are you that callous that you care about nothing?” the father asked.

“I only care about my money and what it is used for. The fact that I had to use my money to feed and clothed your child was a waste and I deserve something for that” the uncle said.

The father shook his head, “You deserve something, but it is not monetary” he said as he and his daughter walked away.

Later that day, the maid went to her master.

“What do you want, old woman?” he asked as he sat his desk. He was writing a letter to a solicitor for procuring compensation from his brother for taking care of his child.

“You are a heartless man. Your brother trusted you to take care of his child while he was gone off to war. Yet all you did was ignore her and make her cry whenever she was just being a child. You don’t deserve any compensation” she said as she snatched away the letter that he was writing and ripped it up.

The uncle was shocked by his maid’s actions and stood up. “How dare you!” he said.

“I took care of her and I am glad that she is back with her father and that he can now take care of her. As for you, you will get what you deserve” said the maid and she walked out.


It is night time and the maid walks out to sacred fountain and sees another old woman sitting there. She walked over to her and sat down next to her.

“You are old sister, what happened?” the maid asked.

“I gave up my agelessness so that the little girl that you were taking care of in your master’s home would be reunited with her father” said the old woman.

“For once, you did something that was selfless. You did a good thing sister” said the maid.

“I know, however, I truly did it because being ageless didn’t make me as happy as I thought that it would” said the old woman.

“I did tell you that” said the maid.

“Yes, you did. I will also admit that the little girl being reunited with her father. Seeing that made me happy” said the old woman.

The maid hugged her sister, “I’ve always said that it is not a bad thing to see others happy. It always inspires one to find their own true happiness. You will find your true happiness, sister. It is not ever too late” said the maid and the old woman nodded.

As for the uncle, he got what he deserved…..he lost his home. How he lost it….you see the uncle was a gambler, he put up his home and wealth as collateral in a game of cards. He hoped to win a huge sum of money, however he lost the card game and thus his home. He was now homeless.

Everyone giggled at the uncle’s fate as Estara smiled.

“As for the little girl and her father. They traveled the world with the sailor and his family. She and the sailor’s daughter became best friends and they were all happy” said Estara.

Everyone clapped and cheered as Estara stood up and took a bow. Xanathus smiled and quietly walked away.

“Who told you that tale?” one of the servants asked Estara.

“Honestly, no one” Estara said truthfully as she sat back down.

“You just made that up?” another servant asked.

“Yes, I did. I always come up with stories like that. I have written down many of them in a book that I have. Sadly, I did not bring the book with me” said Estara.

“I would love for you to tell us another one or maybe the next time you visit, bring your book so that you can read one of your stories to us” said the servant.

Estara smiled, “I would love to” she said.

“Alright, all of you can go back to work. I don’t want to get any of you into trouble for not doing your chores” said Zafina as she smiled.

“Of course, Lady Zafina and it was lovely meeting you, Lady Estara” said another servant.

“Same here and all of you, be blessed” said Estara and with that, all of the servants stood up and returned back to their duties.

“I think I’ll be inviting you back more often” said Zafina.

“Why?” Estara asked.

“Did you not notice the faces of the servants? They enjoyed the story and they all left with smiles on their faces. Hearing stories like that eases the tension in this place. For a moment, they forgot all about their worries” said Zafina and Estara smiled.

Soon Amonis walked into the garden and approached Zafina and Estara.

“Hello, my love” said Zafina as she stood up from the stone bench and kissed Amonis. He gladly returned that kiss.

“Hello, my beautiful Sapphire” said Amonis. “Dare I ask if you know what has the household servants in such a good mood? Mind you, I am not complaining”

“Estara told the servants one of her wonderful stories and they loved it” Zafina said with a smile.

“I see,” said Amonis, smiling warmly at Estara. “I will admit, your stories have this magical way of transporting anyone who hears them to another place. For a moment, the world stands still and all is serene,” he said with a nod of appreciation.

“Thank you, Amonis,” said Estara, smiling humbly, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.

“I told Estara that I will be inviting her back often,” Zafina chimed in, glancing at Estara with a friendly smile.

“That’s fine, but I must clear it with the King first. I failed to inform him of Estara’s visit today, and I don’t wish to make that mistake twice,” Amonis said, his tone turning more serious.

“Was the King upset?” Estara asked, her brow furrowing slightly with concern.

“No, he wasn’t, thankfully. However, the safety of the King and the Palace is important,” Amonis replied, his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibility.

“Understandable,” said Estara, her voice calm and composed.

“My love, can Estara stay for tea?” Zafina asked, turning to Amonis with a hopeful look.

“Yes, however, it will just be you and her for tea. I must be at the King’s side for a conference with the Viziers. They are determined to convince the King to travel to other lands and conquer them. They feel that it would alleviate the King’s boredom and solemnity,” said Amonis, shaking his head slightly as he spoke of the Viziers' relentless persistence.

Zafina just sighed as Estara raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Very well, my love,” said Zafina, her voice tinged with a mix of understanding and resignation.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” said Amonis. He and Zafina shared a tender kiss before he walked away, the weight of his duties pulling him back to the King's side.

“Forgive me if I am out of line, but if the king has been feeling solemn and bored, how does conquering a new land alleviate that?” Estara asked as she stood up, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

“It doesn’t,” Zafina replied sharply. “The king’s Viziers are nothing more than well-dressed, well-spoken, yet petty, greedy, vain, arrogant little boys.” Her disdain was clear, and it made Estara’s brow furrow once more.

“Little boys?” Estara echoed, her surprise evident.

“Okay, not little boys...little men who don’t think about what’s best for Qidrese. They only think about what is best for them and manipulate the king into carrying out their agendas,” Zafina clarified, her frustration palpable.

“Zafina, speaking like that is practically treasonous. You are the High Guard’s wife. You know better,” Estara warned, her tone firm yet concerned.

“Yes, but I am not the only one who feels this way. There are others who believe that the Viziers act solely in their own interests. I, along with others, am simply clever enough not to talk about it in close quarters or around opportunists,” Zafina said with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with defiance.

Estara shook her head, a mix of amusement and exasperation crossing her features as she and Zafina headed off for tea.

♦♦♦♦
Sunlight streamed through the open ceiling of the grand conference hall, illuminating a bustling scene.

This wasn't your typical, stuffy chamber; instead, the king held court in a vibrant open-air courtyard. The space served as the heart of the kingdom's strategic discussions, a place where the most critical matters were debated and decided.

Surrounding the king and his Viziers, the wisest and most trusted advisors, was a rectangular table, its surface polished smooth over centuries of use. It held a captivating tapestry of information: world maps, meticulously drawn and annotated, lay alongside documents overflowing with details about far-off lands, their customs, and their potential threats or opportunities. The air buzzed with the murmur of conversation, punctuated by the occasional authoritative pronouncement from the king.

“As you can see, Your Majesty,” Vizier Semyazza began, “the land of Grecia, surrounded by water, presents a prime opportunity for conquest. With armed ships and seasoned soldiers, we could easily make it a province of Qidrese.:

“And here is Xaizan,” added Vizier Zacarias, “rich in natural resources that could be used to our advantage. It's not far from Qidrese either.”

“These are lands ripe for conquest,” agreed Vizier Najoth. “However, my Lord, I propose we consider Northfar. A land of rich farmland, gold, silver, and other precious metals, some so obscure they have no name. While the people are brave and strong, they are also simple-minded and can be easily swayed with promises of riches and exploration. Northfar would make an excellent province.”

Xanathus examined the maps and documents, his brow furrowed in concentration. “So, what is your decision, my Lord?” asked Vizier Mael.

Xanathus traced a finger across the intricate network of lines on the map, his gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of parchment before him. “I will need some time to think,” he murmured, his voice low and heavy with the gravity of the situation. “There are so many lands, each with its own unique bounty. Lush, fertile valleys teeming with life, arid plains promising mineral wealth, and even whispers of hidden treasures lost to time. Each land holds the potential to propel us forward, but choosing the right one first is paramount.”

The Viziers exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of eagerness and impatience. They knew that the king's decision would shape the future of Qidrese, and they were determined to influence it in their favor. The open sky above seemed to mirror the vast possibilities that lay before them.

He allowed his eyes to linger on the detailed reports and meticulously drawn sketches scattered across his desk. Each document held a meticulously crafted analysis of a different territory, highlighting its strengths and weaknesses, its resources and potential challenges. The sheer volume of information was staggering, a testament to the meticulous planning that had gone into this critical decision.

“This is not a choice to be made lightly,” Xanathus concluded, his voice firm with resolve. “The first conquest sets the tone for all that follows. It must be a strategic strike, a calculated move that secures the resources and establishes the foothold we need for future expansion.” With a deep breath, he returned his gaze to the maps and documents, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders, but his eyes gleamed with the steely determination of a leader poised to make a defining choice.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” said Vizier Semyazza as he and the other Viziers bowed and left the conference room.

Amonis walked up and looked down at the table. He shook his head in disgust.

“You disapprove, my friend?” Xanathus asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“It is not my place to say whether or not I approve of what the Viziers are suggesting,” said Amonis, his tone measured.

Xanathus looked up at Amonis. “Then I give you permission to speak plainly,” he said, his eyes locking onto Amonis with an intensity that demanded honesty.

Amonis turned and looked at Xanathus, his expression a mix of frustration and loyalty. “Very well, I don’t approve, and I will explain why. We have been friends since we were young men. We are almost like brothers, in fact...we treat each other like brothers. It angers me that these overachieving, greedy men would advise you to leave your kingdom, go off to distant lands and conquer them. For what? What would be the point?” said Amonis, his voice rising with passion.

“They only seek to strengthen Qidrese,” said Xanathus, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

“By taking other lands? Xanathus, it’s nonsense! You promised the people of Qidrese that you would not do as your father did. Keep in mind that he nearly ran this kingdom into ruin with his pointless wars with other lands. You made plans to turn Qidrese into a kingdom of learning, culture, and peace. What happened to that promise?” Amonis’ tone was fervent, his eyes blazing with conviction.

Xanathus sighed deeply, the weight of the crown evident in his eyes. “I trust you above all others. What do you think I should do?” he asked, seeking guidance.

“Are you sure you want to hear my suggestion?” Amonis hesitated, his loyalty clashing with his honesty.

“Yes, I do,” said Xanathus, his resolve strengthening.

“Plan a celebration for the people of Qidrese. Show them how much they are appreciated. Invite the scholars, the poets, the artists, and allow them to showcase the wealth of knowledge and culture we have amassed. Remind the Viziers of the greatness of the people who inhabit this kingdom,” Amonis suggested, his voice growing more impassioned with each word.

Xanathus considered the idea, his mind racing. Amonis was right. “Very well, a celebration then for the people of Qidrese,” he conceded, the decision slowly settling in his heart.

“One thing...we cannot tell the Viziers. They will think that the celebration is to honor a decision to conquer one of the lands they suggested,” Amonis cautioned.

“Then how do we plan the celebration without their knowing?” Xanathus asked, his curiosity piqued.

“My mother-in-law can help us. She and my father-in-law know many poets, scholars, artists, musicians, and singers who would be delighted to attend the celebration. Also, she and my father-in-law are allowed to travel to and from the palace. Planning the celebration under the guise of them visiting Zafina and me is perfect. The Viziers would not suspect a thing,” Amonis explained, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Xanathus sighed again. He didn’t like having to leave the Viziers out of the planning. Nevertheless, Amonis was right, and he reluctantly gave his consent to allow Zafina’s parents to plan the celebration.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, and you have my vow that I will inform you of every idea that my in-laws suggest. You will be instrumental in the planning of the celebration,” Amonis promised, his voice filled with determination.

Xanathus smiled, a rare glimmer of hope in his eyes. Usually, the Viziers coordinated everything. However, he liked the idea of having a say in the preparation of the celebration. The idea made him feel empowered.

“I look forward to it,” said Xanathus, his voice carrying a newfound sense of purpose.

Chapter II

A few days had slipped by since Estara ventured out, desperate for a breath of fresh air and a break from the stifling confines of the house. She had meandered through the town, hoping the open spaces would clear her mind. But as she stepped back through the threshold of her home, a sense of foreboding washed over her, the fresh air she had breathed in moments ago now feeling as thick and suffocating as a storm cloud.

Upon her return, she was greeted by a sight that instantly sent a jolt of unease through her core. Her mother sat stiffly in the seating room, her back as straight as a rod, flanked by her Aunt Athala and a man Estara had never laid eyes on before. The air hung heavy with tension, palpable and oppressive. The unhappiness etched upon her mother's face was as clear as day, her eyes shadowed with worry and lips pressed into a thin, grim line.

Estara didn't need a crystal ball to decipher the reasons behind her mother's distress, nor the ominous purpose of the unfamiliar man's presence alongside her aunt. The whole scene felt like the prelude to some grim, unspoken announcement, and an unsettling feeling churned in Estara's stomach, a sense of dread that hinted at an impending storm brewing within the familiar, once-comforting walls of her home.

“Estara, I would like for you to meet Hassun Kimias. He is a solicitor, and he comes from a very wealthy family,” said Athala.

Estara smiled a small smile at Hassun. Hassun gave her half a smile, which told Estara that something was amiss.

“It is nice to meet you, Hassun,” said Estara.

Hassun looked Estara up and down. “Likewise, I'm sure,” he said in a snobby tone.

Estara raised an eyebrow as she turned to her mother. Vella shook her head, giving Estara the signal that she did not approve of Hassun.

Hassun was a man whose appearance commanded attention. His dark, curly hair framed a face with warm, brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence. His skin, kissed by the sun, held a healthy, golden glow. His attire, meticulously chosen and of high quality, spoke volumes about his comfortable social standing. In Athala's eyes, these attributes combined to paint a picture of a man who could provide a stable and secure life for Estara, making him a seemingly perfect match.

Hassun stood up and walked over to Estara. “Where do you get your clothes?” he asked.

“From the local seamstress,” said Estara.

“What seamstress?” he asked.

“Idaise,” said Estara.

Hassun scoffed. “You should be buying your clothes from Astalle,” he said as he circled Estara, looking at her clothes disapprovingly.

“I cannot afford Astalle. She uses only the finest fabrics, and her prices reflect that,” said Estara.

“Well, then perhaps I will be buying your clothes if my family approves of you and if I feel that you are suitable for me,” he said.

"Oh, she is quite suitable. Very obedient," said Athala with a smile.

Estara narrowed her eyes at her aunt and then turned to Hassun. “What exactly has my aunt told you about me?” Estara asked.

“Nothing really. Just that you are unmarried and looking for a husband. However, for some reason you haven’t been able to find one,” said Hassun in a condescending tone.

Estara crossed her arms. “Then allow me to enlighten you. Yes, I am unmarried. However, I keep busy helping my mother run her business. While I do that, I devote time to myself with reading, writing, and prayer. I pray often to the Divine Ancient, as I feel in my heart that the Divine Ancient will bring me the man that I am destined to be with, as it will be with true love and a purpose,” she said.

Vella smiled proudly at Estara as Athala buried her face in her hands. Hassun looked at Estara with puzzlement.

“Are you a devout follower of the Divine Ancient?” Hassun asked.

“Yes, I am, and I am not ashamed of that. For I know that the Divine Ancient will bring a man into my life that shares my faith,” said Estara as she confidently looked at Hassun.

Hassun smirked. “You should be in a Shrine, devoting yourself to the Divine Ancient. Women such as you are not...how we say...willing to be daring when it comes to more pleasurable aspects,” he said in the same condescending tone.

Estara just looked at him as she raised an eyebrow.

“Well then, since you are looking for women who are willing to be daring in the area of pleasurable aspects, may I suggest that you spend time in one of the local Harem Houses. However, I sense that you've done that many times over already,” she said with disdain in her voice.

Vella's laughter rang out, her amusement contrasting sharply with Athala’s stunned expression. Hassun, however, remained unimpressed.

“Before you tell me to hold my tongue, remember you are a guest in my mother’s home,” Estara retorted, her voice laced with indignation. “You have no authority here. Your condescending tone has been nothing short of rude. You've shown no class whatsoever.”

Hassun, caught off guard by the fiery rebuttal, felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. Emasculated and embarrassed, he quietly exited Vella’s home.

Vella rose from the couch, enveloping Estara in a warm embrace. “I am proud of you, Estara.”

Athala, still fuming, shot to her feet. “I'm not! You’ve insulted a member of the Kimias Family, one of the wealthiest families in Qidrese,” she said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at Estara.

“Then he shouldn’t have needed your help in finding a wife,” Estara responded with a sharp edge.

Athala’s retort was cut short as Vella interjected. “Estara is right! Wealthy men like Hassun Kimias don’t struggle to find a wife. If I had to guess, you probably begged and pouted until he agreed to come here and meet Estara. And I wouldn't be surprised if you had some shady connection to the Kimias family, something you're leveraging to your advantage.”

Athala’s silence spoke volumes.

Vella's voice softened, but her words carried a weight of warning. “I would advise you to be careful, sister. One day, all your plotting and scheming will catch up to you, and you’ll find yourself in a mess you can't escape from—no one will be able to save you.”

Without a word, Athala turned and left.

Estara sighed, shaking her head. "Mother, I think we need to inform Matron Myarae and Patriarch Hectorius about what happened."

“Agreed,” Vella replied. “It’s fortunate they’re your godparents.”

♦♦♦♦
Myare and Hectorius Lagos are the proud parents of Zafina, a union of exceptional individuals who have made their marks in their respective fields. Myare is a highly sought-after hairstylist and spiritualist, known for her incredible talent and intuitive wisdom. Her husband, Hectorius, stands as one of Qidrese’s finest Solicitors, a towering figure with short wavy hair, a deep tan, and piercing hazel eyes.

When they received word of Athala's actions, Hectorius wasted no time in paying a visit to the Kimias family. The Kimias, caught off guard, assured Hectorius that Athala was merely an acquaintance. They knew nothing about Hassun’s secret meetings with Estara but did disclose that Hassun was already betrothed to another.

Hectorius, ever the perceptive solicitor, quickly deduced that Hassun was likely in search of a mistress. Athala’s desperate ambition to see Estara married to a wealthy man provided Hassun the perfect opportunity to consider Estara for such a role. Upon returning home, Hectorius informed Vella and Estara of Hassun's betrothal, prompting Vella to confront Athala.

“I had no idea that he was already betrothed,” Athala defended herself.

“Because you likely didn’t ask,” Vella retorted. “Sister, Estara is not like you, and she is not your daughter.”

“You’re right. If she were my daughter, she would already be married,” Athala snapped back.

Vella sighed, “Sister, do not push your ambitions on Estara. She does not share them, nor do I.”

Athala crossed her arms defiantly, “Myare and Hectorius’ daughter, Zafina, has married well. The High Guard of King Xanathus. Forgive me for wanting my niece to have the same good fortune.”

“If you think that Zafina married Amonis for the sake of status, then you know nothing, you fortune-hunting old bag,” Myare interjected as she approached, her voice dripping with disdain.

Myare is a stunning woman, she and Zafina practically mirror each other in hair and eye color. The exception is that Myare’s hair was graying and straight, but it didn’t detract from her beauty. And her complexion was one shade darker.

Myare and Vella have been best friends since they were young women. They both got married at the same time and had their daughters at the same time. Myare has not ever liked Athala because of Athala’s difficult personality and ambitions to marry wealthy that never lasted. Athala actually admired Myare, but was disappointed that Myare did not notice her efforts to become her friend. However, Myare knew that Athala wanted to be friends with her because Myare came from an upper-moderate class family. She had no intentions of being friends with someone with shallow ambitions.

“Myare, you cannot deny that Zafina has found good fortune in marrying the king’s High Guard. She lives in the palace and has access to many luxuries,” Athala said with a smile.

Myare stared at Athala with a look of disgust.

“Zafina did not set out to marry Amonis. He saw her and fell madly in love with her. He came to both Hectorius and me and asked for permission to court her. We agreed on one condition, that it must be Zafina’s decision,” said Myare.

Athala’s eyes widened with shock. “You allowed Zafina to make the decision?” she asked.

“Yes, we did. Hectorius and I were not about to pressure Zafina if she did not want to be courted. It is her life, and Zafina wanted to marry for love, not status,” said Myare.

Hearing this stunned Athala into silence.

“Sister, are you that narrow-minded that you think everyone wants to marry for status and wealth?” Vella asked.

Athala turned and narrowed her eyes at Vella.

“Vella, there is no use talking sense with Athala. She has demonstrated that sense is something she uses very little of, if at all,” said Myare.

Again, Athala was stunned as Myare and Vella walked away.

“I think it is safe to say that Athala was unaware of how much you dislike her,” said Vella.

“That’s her folly. Let’s pray to the Divine Ancient that she realizes that before anymore of her follies land her into something troublesome” said Myare.

♦♦♦♦

Another few days passed and the plans for the grand celebration continued smoothly. Xanathus, Amonis, Zafina, and her parents diligently selected the artists, musicians, singers, poets, and scholars who would be performing. Among their choices was Teva, a singer whom Xanathus specifically wanted at the event. Amonis, Zafina, and her parents wholeheartedly agreed it was a brilliant idea.

However, the Viziers grew suspicious. They noticed that Myare and Hectorius were frequent visitors to the palace and decided to inquire about their presence with the king.

“Master and Lady Lagos simply want to see their daughter and son-in-law more often. However, I must admit, since Master Lagos is a Solicitor, I have been seeking his advice on legal matters,” Xanathus explained.

“Your Majesty, if it is legal advice that you seek, that's my domain,” interjected Vizier Mael.

“I am quite aware. However, your legal knowledge is limited to the protocols of the throne. I sought Hectorius' counsel on the legal protocols of everyday citizens, in case I am called upon to arbitrate a dispute,” Xanathus responded.

Vizier Mael raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the king's sudden interest in the laws governing common folk.

“Why would a simple citizen call upon you to arbitrate a dispute?” Vizier Mael questioned.

Xanathus met his gaze, “And why wouldn't they call upon me? I am the King. Is it not my duty to assist the citizens of Qidrese should they ask? Am I only to rule and dominate over others? To conquer lands and rule those as well? Is that all I am good for as a King?” he declared with conviction.

Vizier Mael cringed, suddenly apprehensive. He needed to tread carefully to avoid the king's wrath.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not mean to offend you. Of course, as King, it is fitting that a citizen might seek your judgment in a dispute,” Vizier Mael stammered.

“You are forgiven,” Xanathus replied.

Vizier Mael bowed, “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said before quickly walking away.

As Xanathus stood, reflecting on the exchange, he heard footsteps approaching. Soon, Amonis stood beside him.

“Say what is on your mind, Amonis,” Xanathus invited.

“Your Majesty, Vizier Mael’s arrogant ignorance is quite telling. None of the Viziers take you seriously as a king. They manipulated your father and nearly ruined Qidrese. They look at you and think the same,” said Amonis, his voice firm and unwavering.

“I am starting to see that,” replied Xanathus thoughtfully. “However, if I replace all of them, they will know that something is afoot.”

Amonis leaned in, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Then may I suggest that you continue giving them the false hope of considering their suggestions. Meanwhile, continue with the planning of the celebration.”

Xanathus nodded, a newfound resolve hardening his features. “I shall,” he affirmed.

Amonis placed a reassuring hand on Xanathus’s shoulder. “Your Majesty, you must show them that you are not your father. You must be strategic and cunning. Let the celebration be a testament to your strength and wisdom as a ruler. It’s more than an event—it’s your declaration.”

Xanathus’s eyes flickered with a spark of inspiration. “Yes, the celebration will be more than just festivities. It will be a symbol of my reign and the commitment to citizens of Qidrese”.

♦♦♦♦
Estara weaved through the bustling marketplace, the air thick with the aroma of spices and fresh bread. Sunlight glinted off the colorful fabrics lining the stalls, and the rhythmic calls of vendors filled the air. Her basket overflowed with fragrant oils, their scents mingling into an intoxicating perfume. This was her usual errand, a small act of filial duty to bring solace to her mother amidst the mounting stress.

Unfortunately, her peaceful shopping trip was about to be disrupted. Just as Estara reached the last stall, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd. It was her Aunt Athala, her hawk-like eyes scanning the marketplace with a predatory glint. Estara braced herself for the inevitable encounter.

“Estara, I have found the perfect man for you,” Athala announced with an air of triumph.

Estara sighed, her patience already wearing thin. “Who is he?” she asked.

Athala’s eyes lit up with hope. “His name is Amil, he belongs to the House of Zezor. Stay right here,” she said, disappearing into the crowd.

Estara sighed again, her irritation mounting as she waited. Moments later, she was relieved to see a familiar face. It was Zafina, weaving through the crowd with ease.

“Don't tell me she's at it again,” Zafina said, rolling her eyes.

Estara smiled and embraced Zafina. “Yes, my dear aunt is at it again. She’s driving Mother and me insane.”

Zafina chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You should let Amonis and me set you up with one of the palace guards under his command,” she suggested playfully.

Estara raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Are you also insane?”

Zafina giggled. “No, I promise I’m not.”

Their moment of levity was short-lived. Athala soon approached, her arm linked with a much older man. A man who looked old enough to be Estara and Zafina’s grandfather.

“Estara, this is Amil Zezor,” Athala beamed, oblivious to the discomfort on her nieces' faces.

Estara and Zafina cringed, exchanging a knowing glance.

Amil offered a smile to Estara as he shuffled towards her, his gait unsteady and labored. While his attire was undeniably fine, a closer look revealed a stark contrast. His sightless eyes wandered aimlessly, and the once luxurious fabrics clung to him, heavy with the lingering, cloying scent of incense that had aged a full day.

“You are beautiful. Your aunt tells me that you are looking for a husband. A wealthy husband at that,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper.

Estara stood frozen, the words stuck in her throat. Amil's unwanted closeness sent shivers down her spine, his presence suffocating. Before she could muster a response, Zafina, her posture radiating authority, gracefully stepped into the space between them.

Zafina's voice, clear and unwavering, filled the air. “Greetings,” she began, her gaze holding Amil's with unwavering confidence. "I am Zafina Badacia, wife of Amonis Badacia, High Guard to Xanathus Girrah, Sovereign of Qidrese. I speak on behalf of my god-sister, Estara Nibban, who is no longer available to be courted.”

The pronouncement hung heavy in the air. It was a clear and decisive declaration, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Estara, though speechless, felt a surge of gratitude wash over her. Zafina, with her unwavering presence, had spoken the words she herself could not.

Athala raised an eyebrow as a puzzled look appeared on Amil’s face.

“What do you mean that she is no longer free to be courted?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

“My parents, her godparents, have already set her up with someone. A soldier under my husband’s command, as he is the commander of the King’s army,” Zafina said, quickly turning to Estara.

“Forgive me, Estara. I was going to tell you as a surprise for the next time you visited the palace. But yes, Mother and Father have chosen a man for you. Trust me, you will like him. He is very kind, brave, strong, and will take good care of you. Also, just think, you will be living in the palace and you will become my principal attendant. And yes, your mother is aware and approves,” Zafina said with a reassuring smile.

Estara raised an eyebrow, but also smiled, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity.

“Thank you, Zafina. I look forward to meeting my husband,” Estara said, her voice steady though her mind raced. Both turned to face Athala and Amil.

Amil turned to Athala, a weary smile on his face. “Well, then, I guess I will be on my way. Besides, I am too old to marry such a young woman anyway,” he said as he shuffled away.

“No! Wait!” Athala called out, rushing after Amil, desperation evident in her voice.

Zafina couldn't help but snicker, drawing a curious look from Estara.

“Since when do you tell such tales as that?” Estara asked, incredulous.

“Since we both know that your mother and my parents would abhor you being married off to some old man, no matter his wealth,” Zafina replied, her tone pragmatic. “Besides, Athala has no authority to marry you off. Only your mother does.”

Estara sighed, nodding in agreement. “You do realize that Athala is going to go to my mother to get confirmation about what you told her,” she said, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.

“All the more reason we should make haste to your home and inform your mother before Athala does,” Zafina said, her eyes sparkling with determination.

Estara shook her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Let us go and hope that your tale doesn’t backfire on us,” she said, linking arms with Zafina as they quickly headed towards the Nibban house.

As they navigated through the bustling streets, the urgency of their mission pushed them forward. The marketplace, once a place of routine and familiarity, now felt like an obstacle course. Estara’s mind raced with the possible outcomes of Zafina’s bold lie, but she felt a flicker of hope that perhaps, just this once, things would turn out in their favor.

When Estara and Zafina arrived at the Nibban house, they were relieved to find that Athala was not there. They stepped inside, finding Vella mixing up cosmetics at the kitchen table. The tension in the air was palpable as they recounted the events of the marketplace. Vella raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

“You told my sister that Estara is being married off to one of the palace guards. An arrangement that your parents made and that I approved of, am I correct?” Vella asked, her voice calm but probing.

“Yes, that is what I told her, Matron Vella,” Zafina replied, her tone respectful.

Vella closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. When she opened them, she turned to Estara with a look of mild exasperation. “Are you going along with this charade?”

“If it keeps Aunt Athala at bay, then yes. However, I know what you are saying, Mama. How long before the tale that Zafina told is exposed as a hoax?” Estara replied, her voice tinged with concern.

“Exactly,” Vella said, her tone firm.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a hoax. There can be some truth to it,” Zafina interjected, her eyes sparkling with a sudden idea.

Vella raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her face. “You aren’t serious?”

“I was thinking that if I can get Amonis to go along with it, perhaps one of the unmarried soldiers could be paid to pose as Estara’s betrothed. Naturally, she would have to move into the palace to make the charade believable,” Zafina suggested, her voice brimming with conviction.

Vella shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide. “This is madness. You expect to pay a soldier to pretend to be Estara’s betrothed? And have her move into the palace to continue this ruse?”

“Think about it, Matron Vella,” Zafina pressed on. “Athala has been a thorn in our side for far too long. This could buy us time to come up with a more permanent solution. Plus, with Estara at the palace, she would be safer and away from Athala’s schemes.”

Once again, Vella shook her head. “I will only agree to this charade if your parents and Amonis are okay with it. Also, I’m sure the king will have to be notified.”

“All will be taken care of, Matron Vella. By the way, the King is having a celebration in a few days. Mama would like for you to bring some of your special perfumes to give away as gifts,” Zafina said.

“I can do that,” Vella replied. “So, the King is having a celebration. What is the occasion?”

“To celebrate Qidrese and its people,” Zafina answered.

“Has the King given the announcement?” Vella asked.

“Not yet! Tomorrow is when the King will make the announcement. I was allowed to inform you in advance because of what is requested,” Zafina explained.

“Very well, how many bottles are needed?” Vella inquired.

“Twenty thousand... I know that’s a huge order. However, Mama has hired many perfume makers to help fill the order and distribute them at the celebration,” Zafina assured.

Vella nodded thoughtfully. “What scent is she requesting?”

“Something that speaks to the soul of Qidrese. Beautiful, cultured, full of life,” Zafina described.

A smile spread across Vella’s face. “I think I know just the scent to create. Tell your mother that I will be expecting the extra help soon.”

“I will tell her. And worry not... all will be well. I feel great things for Estara are on the horizon,” Zafina said with confidence.

Estara raised an eyebrow, her skepticism apparent. “We shall see,” she replied.

♦♦♦♦
“You did what!” Amonis exclaimed, his voice echoing through the room. Myare snickered, and Hectorius shook his head at Zafina, his disapproval evident.

“I had to do something,” Zafina defended herself.

“Zafina, you do realize what you have done, correct?” Hectorius asked, his tone stern.

“Yes, I know. However, I could not just stand there and do nothing,” Zafina replied, her voice resolute.

“Although quite impulsive, I do understand why Zafina did it,” Myare interjected, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and sympathy.

Amonis sighed heavily, “My love, you do know that I will have to tell the king about this.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry for acting so impulsively. However, she is my god-sister and best friend. I was only protecting her,” Zafina said, her voice softening with remorse.

“I have an idea,” Hectorius said, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“What is it?” Amonis asked, turning to his father-in-law with a flicker of hope.

“I can pay whichever soldier is chosen to act as Estara’s betrothed. Also, if Myare and I can get Vella to agree to move closer to the palace, it should be enough for the charade to be credible,” Hectorius suggested.

“It could work. However, I will still have to inform the king,” Amonis said, his voice measured.

“Very well,” Hectorius agreed.

Amonis turned to Zafina, his gaze softening. “I will have to convince His Majesty that this charade will not cause any trouble for him. However, in the future, my love, do not act so impulsively,” he said, his tone a blend of adoration and caution.

“Yes, my love,” Zafina replied, her voice filled with contrition.

Amonis kissed her gently before heading off to inform the king.

Myare smirked, a glint of pride in her eyes. “Zafina, if it’s any consolation... I probably would have done the same,” she said, her tone lightening the mood.

Zafina smiled and nodded, feeling a sense of solidarity with her mother. Hectorius, however, just shook his head.

“I would have to marry a mischievous woman and have a mischievous daughter,” he said, his voice tinged with mock exasperation.

Myare turned to her husband, a playful smile on her lips. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear,” she said, leaning in to kiss him.

Hectorius chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Indeed, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

♦♦♦♦

The announcement of the celebration spread like wildfire, igniting excitement among the people of Qidrese. The Viziers, naturally, were upset that the planning had been kept from them, but there was nothing they could do about it. The night before the celebration, Xanathus lay in his bedchamber, unable to sleep. Restlessness gnawed at him.

Finally, he got up from his bed and walked out onto the balcony, looking up at the stars. The night sky was a canvas of twinkling lights, but it brought him no peace.

“Why am I so restless?” he murmured to himself.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes, seeking solace in prayer.

“Dear Divine Ancient... tonight, as I am restless and cannot sleep, I feel that it is not the celebration causing my unease, but something else. Something I am longing for, yet I know not what it is. I humbly ask that whatever is causing my restlessness, please put it at ease tonight so that I may sleep,” he prayed earnestly.

With a silent thank you, he returned to his bed. Miraculously, his restlessness settled, and he drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, across the city, Estara jolted awake, her eyes snapping open like startled birds. The moon, a luminous pearl in the velvet night sky, seemed to hold her gaze for a moment before she turned away, a furrow etched between her brows.

“Someone spoke of the Divine Ancient,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness. "But why would their prayer stir me from my slumber?"

The word "longing" echoed in her mind, a spectral echo that lingered even after the voice had faded. It was a word she knew well, a familiar ache nestled within her own heart.

Seeking solace, Estara offered a silent prayer to the Divine Ancient, her voice a thread woven into the tapestry of the night. As she settled back down, her eyelids fluttering closed, the world around her dissolved into the realm of dreams.

In her dream, she found herself bathed in the ethereal glow of countless stars. Before her stood a figure, a man cloaked in fine garments that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen. His dark hair cascaded down his back, and he stood far off, a distance that veiled his features in shadow, leaving Estara with a sense of anticipation and a yearning to know more.

“Tell me a story, my lovely,” he said to her, his voice a melodic whisper that seemed to resonate with the very stars above.

Estara jolted awake, her body tingling with the aftershocks of the dream. A thick silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint rhythm of her own breath. She sat up, her mind a whirlwind of disjointed images and emotions. For a moment, she simply existed, the dream clinging to her like cobwebs, obscuring the edges of reality.

As she began to unravel the dream's threads, a profound realization struck her. She wasn't just reliving the dream; she was experiencing it. The emotions that washed over her weren't her own; they belonged to the man she had seen, a man consumed by a sense of profound loss. His desperation resonated within her, a yearning for something just beyond his grasp.

Driven by a surge of empathy, Estara closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer. She prayed for the man in the dream, that he might find the path he sought, the missing piece that would bring him solace. With the hope whispered into the night, she settled back down, the dream's lingering echoes slowly fading as she drifted back to sleep.

In the quiet depths of her slumber, the dream returned with even greater clarity. She stood once more beneath the star-studded sky, facing the man whose presence was both enigmatic and compelling. He seemed closer now, his features partially illuminated by the ethereal light of the stars. His eyes, though shadowed, bore a depth of sorrow and longing that pulled at her heart.

“Tell me a story, my lovely,” he said again. His voice a gentle murmur that resonated through the dreamscape.

Estara took a tentative step forward, feeling an inexplicable connection to this stranger. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of words, a flood of memories and emotions poured out, weaving together into a tapestry of shared experiences. She spoke of love and loss, of dreams and desires unfulfilled, her words flowing like a river through the night.

As she spoke, the man's expression softened, the lines of tension easing from his face. He listened with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving hers. There was a sense of mutual understanding, a bond forged in the silent exchange of their innermost selves.

When she finished, a sense of peace settled over them both. The man reached out, his hand hovering just above hers, a touch that was more felt than seen.

“You are so beautiful….I give to you my heart and my soul, my Lovely”

Estara awoke from the dream, the morning light filtering through the window and casting a gentle glow across the room. She sat up slowly, her mind still wrapped in the ethereal remnants of her nocturnal journey. As she gazed at the sky, painted in hues of dawn, a profound realization settled over her. This dream was not merely a fleeting vision—it was a glimpse of something greater, a hint of destiny that lay just beyond the horizon.

Chapter III

The day of the celebration dawned upon Qidrese, bathing the city in a vibrant atmosphere. From the first rays of sunlight, a spirit of joyous anticipation filled the air. Grand parades snaked through the streets, bursting with color and music. Food vendors overflowed with delectable treats, their aromas mingling with the laughter and chatter of the throngs. The sounds of music and dancing echoed throughout the day, weaving a tapestry of merriment.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and gold, the celebration reached a crescendo. With the last rays of daylight fading, the entire population of Qidrese, united by the spirit of the occasion, converged upon the palace, their anticipation palpable, ready for the grand culmination of this joyous day.

Outside the place, Zafina and Amonis awaited the arrival of Estara and Vella. Suddenly, Zafina eyed them approaching and smiled.

“There they are!” said Zafina as she rushed up to them.

“Zafina!” said Estara as she and Zafina hugged.

“You look beautiful!” said Zafina.

“Thank you” said Estara as she twirled around. Estara shimmered in a rose gold dress that flowed down to her ankles, its fabric twisting elegantly around her form. The halter neckline left her shoulders bare, highlighting the smooth, flawless skin beneath. Her hair, meticulously straightened with a hot iron, lay sleek and straight, framing her face. A gold headdress, intricately designed and gleaming in the light, adorned her forehead, adding a touch of regality to her attire. The final flourish was a cascade of gold earrings and bracelets, each piece catching the light and complementing the warm glow of her dress. Estara's entire ensemble radiated an air of sophistication and glamour.

“You look beautiful also,” Estara said to Zafina.

Zafina smiled, her attire was similar, with the exception of short sleeves and the color of aqua blue. She wore matching earrings and gold bracelets.

“Thank you, Estara,” she said and she looked at Vella. “Matron Vella, you look beautiful,” said Zafina.

“Thank you,” said Vella, as she was dressed in a light yellow dress with sheer sleeves and a gold chain belt around her waist.

“Where are your mother and father?” Vella asked.

“Here we are,” said Myare as she and Hectorius, both dressed in ivory, joined the group.

“I didn’t think that so many people would attend the celebration,” said Vella.

“Neither did we, but looking around, it is not a surprise. The people of Qidrese love their home and their king. They are happy that a celebration was thrown in their honor,” said Amonis as he approached and wrapped his arm around Zafina. His attire, a gold embroidered Sherwani top in the same aqua blue, was paired with black pants.

“Where is the king?” Vella asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“He will be along shortly. In the meantime, the soldier to pose as Estara’s betrothed has been chosen,” said Amonis with a tone of slight discontentment.

“I gather from your tone that you are not thrilled about this charade?” Estara inquired.

“No, I am not. However, do not mistake my tone for anger. I do understand why Zafina did what she did. I just wish she would have found another way. It wasn’t easy telling the king what Zafina did and why,” Amonis replied, his voice steady but strained.

“What did the king say?” Vella asked, her curiosity piqued.

“He wants to meet with Estara and ask her if she is okay with this charade. He has offered to handle the situation personally if Estara chooses not to go through with it,” Amonis explained.

Estara tensed up at hearing that the king wanted to meet with her. Amonis noticed this and immediately tried to reassure her.

“Do not be afraid, Estara. The king only wants to know if you want to go along with the charade. If so, then the king will allow it. However, if not... he is willing to speak to your Aunt Athala Suassa and demand that she stop badgering you to marry whomever she wants you to,” said Amonis.

Estara turned to her mother and raised an eyebrow, seeking reassurance. Vella simply sighed and shrugged her shoulders, her face etched with concern.

“What is it?” Amonis asked, sensing the unspoken tension.

“Should the king do this favor for Estara, Athala will likely turn it into something that it is not,” Vella said, her voice filled with apprehension.

“Like what?” Amonis asked, his curiosity and concern evident.

“That Estara has become the King’s concubine. If she should think that, then she will try to extort Estara,” Vella said, her voice tinged with frustration.

Amonis sighed, “What kind of sister do you have?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“One that is greedy, selfish, demanding, and dare I say... immature,” Vella responded, her voice laced with bitterness.

“And that’s being nice compared to what I’ve said about her,” Myare interjected, her tone sharp. Estara and Zafina snickered, the tension momentarily broken. Amonis simply smirked, knowing his mother-in-law well enough to appreciate her candor.

“Nevertheless, the king wants to meet with her,” Amonis reiterated, his tone firm.

“Very well, I will meet with the king,” Estara said, her voice resolute despite the turmoil she felt inside.

“Then it is settled. For now, let us enjoy the celebration,” Amonis declared, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tried to lighten the mood.

The joyous sounds of the celebration seemed distant to Xanathus as he stood in his bedchamber, the servants meticulously adjusting his attire. His mind was a tempestuous sea, churning with an inexplicable anxiety. It was a disquieting feeling, a gnawing unease that cast a shadow over the joyous occasion. He found himself uttering a silent prayer, the familiar words offering a fleeting solace. As the servants finished their work, Xanathus stepped out of his chamber, a retinue of guards flanking him. Each step towards the courtyard felt heavy, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It was as if he walked towards an unseen precipice, a premonition of something unknown yet momentous waiting for him beyond the threshold. The air itself seemed charged with anticipation, mirroring the turmoil within him.

One of the guards in the courtyard noticed that the king was arriving and quickly made his way to Amonis.

“My Lord, the King approaches,” said the guard.

“Thank you,” said Amonis, and he turned to Zafina. “I must announce the arrival of the king,” he said.

“Of course, my love,” said Zafina, and Amonis left her side and stood on the steps of the courtyard.

One of the guards blew a horn, getting the attention of everyone.

“Citizens of Qidrese, I announce the arrival of our King, Xanathus Girrah!” said Amonis.

All eyes turned to the arrival of Xanathus, and the citizens cheered. Xanathus smiled as he bowed his head to all of Qidrese. He soon stood before his throne and raised his hands up for the citizens to let him speak, and they went silent.

“It gives me great pleasure that all of Qidrese are here. Tonight, we celebrate the wonders of our beautiful city, and I am humbled that I am your King. Let us give thanks to the Divine Ancient for the blessings that we have all received, and may Qidrese be blessed with more, the Divine Ancient willing,” said Xanathus.

“To Qidrese!” he said aloud.

“To Qidrese!” the citizens said in unison.

“Let the celebration resume,” said Xanathus, and the music resumed as did the dancing, chatting, and laughing.

Vizier Semyazza approached Xanathus as he took his place on the throne.

“Your Majesty, if I may... the other Viziers and I were under the impression that the reason for this celebration is because you had made a decision of what land to travel to and conquer,” he said.

“Well, as you can see, this is a celebration for Qidrese and its people. It is long overdue,” said Xanathus, as he looked out at the citizens of Qidrese. It made him smile to see them celebrating and being full of joy.

“I agree, my lord. However, we would like to know if you have made a decision,” said Vizier Semyazza.

“Not yet, but I will let all of you know,” said Xanathus.

“When, my lord?” Vizier Semyazza asked.

Xanathus turned to Semyazza and gave him a stern look.

“I will inform you and the other Viziers when I have decided. There is no hurry; these lands that are waiting to be conquered are not going anywhere,” Xanathus said in an authoritative tone.

Vizier Semyazza gulped, “Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive me,” he said, and he scurried away.

Amonis, who was standing beside the throne and heard the conversation, chuckled quietly to himself as he smirked.

Xanathus smirked himself. “Go ahead and laugh, my friend,” he said.

“I am, my lord,” said Amonis, as his smirk turned into a smile.

♦♦♦♦
Teva, a vision of beauty, took center stage. Her voice, ethereal and angelic, filled the air with the opening notes of a song. Long, chestnut curls framed her face, highlighting her captivating gray-brown eyes and flawless, naturally beige skin. As the music transitioned from soft and slow to a vibrant tempo, the courtyard transformed. People gathered, drawn by the melody, and began to dance. Estara, among them, moved with a captivating grace and sensuality that captivated several onlookers. Zafina, aware of the attention Estara garnered, couldn't help but smile.

Estara's gaze, drawn upwards while dancing, met the eyes of Xanathus. Their connection was instantaneous, a shared lock that seemed to stretch into eternity. Briefly, Estara looked away, but her body continued to sway in perfect harmony with the music and Teva's voice. As the song intensified, Estara's passion mirrored the rising tempo, her movements becoming a captivating display. Xanathus, utterly enthralled, found himself mesmerized by her every step, his heart pounding in rhythm with the music. He was completely captivated by the woman before him.

Xanathus leaned close to Amonis, “Amonis, who is that woman dancing?” he asked.

“Which woman, my lord?” Amonis asked.

“Her,” said Xanathus, pointing to Estara.

“Your Majesty, that is Zafina’s god-sister, Estara Nibban,” said Amonis.

“She is beautiful,” said Xanathus as he continued to watch her dance.

Estara's movements flowed with increasing fervor as she danced, the awareness of Xanathus' unwavering gaze igniting a spark within her. It was a peculiar sensation, this feeling of being observed that fueled her performance. Each step, each turn, became imbued with a deeper passion, a silent dialogue between her and the unseen king. As the final notes of the song faded, Estara gracefully lowered herself to the ground, a deep bow expressing the culmination of her emotions. The silence that followed was shattered by thunderous applause, a wave of appreciation washing over her. Yet, amidst the cacophony of cheers, Estara's ears latched onto a distinct rhythm – the king's applause, louder and more enthusiastic than any other. It was a silent acknowledgment, a validation that resonated within her, leaving a lingering warmth in its wake.

Estara stood up and took a bow, then walked back over to where she had been standing with Zafina.

“Estara, I don’t know if you noticed, but you have caught the king’s attention,” said Zafina.

Estara turned her head and saw that Xanathus was looking at her. She turned her head back to Zafina. “I’m quite aware, Zafina. Honestly, the feeling is mutual,” she said. Estara's heart raced, not just from the exertion of the dance, but from the intensity of Xanathus' gaze. She felt a strange mix of exhilaration and apprehension, knowing that her every move was being watched by the king.

The night had taken on a different hue. It was no longer just a celebration; it was the beginning of something new, something that neither Estara or Xanathus could fully comprehend but both felt deeply. The connection between them, forged in the heat of the moment, was undeniable. And as the night continued, both Estara and Xanathus knew that their paths had crossed for a reason, and that this night would be the start of a journey neither had anticipated.

♦♦♦♦
As the celebration continued, the warm glow of torches and the sound of laughter filled the air. Estara and Zafina, along with their parents mingled with guests. A household servant, her eyes shining with anticipation, approached Estara and bowed slightly.

“Lady Estara, could you please tell us another story?” she asked, her voice brimming with excitement.

Zafina giggled, nudging Estara playfully. “I had a feeling you'd be asked to tell a story,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Estara smiled warmly, her love for storytelling evident in her eyes. “Of course, and for any others who wish to hear, please gather around,” she announced, her voice carrying over the celebratory noise.

As if drawn by an invisible thread, many people began to surround Estara and Zafina. They eagerly took their places on the steps of the palace, their faces glowing with anticipation. The soft murmur of the crowd quieted to a hush as they settled in, ready to be transported by Estara’s tale.

Off to the side, Vella, Myare, and Hectorius observed with fondness, their expressions a mixture of pride and admiration.

“Let’s see...One that I have recently written has come to mind and it starts off like this. There was a simple man, he never wanted for anything. He was always happy and kind to everyone. He lived in a simple house and had many simple things. Now you can imagine, that some thought of this man as a fool. For all people eventually want more.

The man felt quite blessed to have what he has and was always thankful to the Divine Ancient for that. However, he did have a secret desire. He would often look up at the night sky and saw the celestial angel of the Stars, Astrae dancing. You see, he had fallen in love with her and often imaged that he was with her.

Even though, this desire was a foolish one as someone would say to him if he told them. It was his desire.

One day, this man who was also a seasoned sailor was tasked with transporting a shipment to a distant city, far across the waters. He accepted the job readily, and the cargo was carefully loaded onto his vessel. As he embarked on his journey, he whispered a prayer to the Divine Ancient for safe passage.

When night fell, the man gazed up at the heavens, spotting Astrae, the celestial dancer, twirling gracefully among the stars. With a smile, he murmured, “Beautiful Astrae, your dance among the stars is a sight to behold. As you twirl, I humbly ask for your guidance to lead me safely to my destination.”

As Astrae danced, the man followed her and he arrived at his destination that night.

The next day, the man unloaded the cargo and was rewarded handsomely for his efforts. He was invited to stay for the day, but he declined, saying he needed to return home. With that, he set sail for his familiar shores.

However, on his journey back, a violent storm arose, whipping the sea into a frenzy and tossing his ship about like a toy. Though fear gripped him, he bravely did everything in his power to steer the vessel. Suddenly, a massive wave crashed over the ship, throwing him into the churning waters and splitting the ship in two. As he floated in the turbulent sea, he lost consciousness.

When he came to, it was daylight and he saw that was laying on a beach.

“Hello” said a female voice.

The man looked up to see a stunning woman standing before him. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and her mesmerizing gray-blue eyes shone with an ethereal glow. Her flawless complexion had the warm, delicate hue of sand, making her seem almost otherworldly in her beauty.

“You are beautiful” said the man.

The woman smiled, “Thank you. Please come with me. I can give you food and dry clothes” she said.

The man nodded as the woman held out her hand and helped the man up.

The woman's home was just a short walk up a hill. The house itself was enchanting—a pristine white two-story structure with a blue roof that shimmered in the sunlight. Inside, the home was immaculate, boasting polished wood floors, fine furnishings, and elegant blue satin and sheer drapes. The man found himself captivated by its beauty.

“Your home is beautiful” he said.

“Thank you” said the woman. “I have food if you are hungry” she said.

“Yes, please and thank you” he said.

He followed the woman into the kitchen, where he sat down at a white marble table. She gave him food and drink. As the man ate, he wondered about the woman. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. After finishing his food and drink, the woman gave him clean and dry clothes. The clothes fit perfectly and they looked good on him as he saw himself in the mirror. Still he thought of the woman. Why was she so familiar to him?

As twilight deepened into night, the man and woman shared an exquisite dinner. The table was adorned with rare meats, vibrant vegetables, and a carefully selected wine that painted the evening with elegance. The air was filled with the aroma of their meal, blending with the hushed sounds of the settling night. After their dinner, the woman rose gracefully and drifted outside. The man, sensing an unspoken gravity in her movements, soon followed. Outside, she stood at the precipice of the hill, her silhouette framed by the vastness of the night sky. The man’s concern grew, a silent echo against the whispering winds.

“What troubles you?” he asked. The woman turned, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Nothing, my dear sailor who has watched me dance amongst the stars,” she replied. In that instant, the man realized why she seemed so familiar. "Astrae?" he gasped.

“Yes, my love. It is I. Do you still desire to be with me?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” he said without hesitation.

“You understand that you cannot return to your old life on the Terrestrial plane,” she warned.

“I am aware. But this is what my heart has longed for. It is the only thing that I have longed for. For I give to you my heart freely and without hesitation,” he declared. Astrae's smile deepened. “Then I give to you my heart, freely and without hesitation,” she said, extending her hands toward him.

The man stepped forward and took Astrae’s hands in his. In that moment, the Divine Ancient bestowed upon him immortality and a new name: Astaveron. From then on, Astaveron and Astrae wandered among the stars, guiding sailors to their destinations and aiding those in need. Together, they found happiness. “And that,” concluded Estara, “is the end of the story.”

Those who were listening applauded as Estara bowed her head. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Unbeknownst to Estara and Zafina, Xanathus and Amonis had been standing nearby, listening to the entire story. Xanathus turned to Amonis. “Bring her to my chambers,” he commanded. “Yes, Your Majesty,” responded Amonis. Xanathus took one last look at Estara before walking away.

Amonis approached as Zafina and Estara stood up. “Estara, His Majesty would like to speak with you,” he announced.

“Now?” Estara asked, stunned.

“Yes, now,” Amonis replied, his face serious.

“Can I go with her?” Zafina interjected.

“No, my love. Don’t worry, she will be fine. Wait for me here,” Amonis reassured her.

Zafina nodded, “Yes, my love.”

Amonis turned to Estara. “Come, Estara,” he instructed. Estara nodded and followed Amonis as they left the courtyard.

Vella, Myare, and Hectorius walked up to Zafina. “Is everything okay?” Myare inquired.

“The king wants to speak with Estara. I’m sure it’s about the charade,” Zafina speculated.

“Divine Ancient, be with her,” Vella whispered.

Estara did her best to keep pace with Amonis, her heart pounding with nerves. They arrived at the grand doors of the king’s chambers. Amonis turned to her. “Behind these doors, the king awaits you. Only approach when commanded and not before. Speak only when given permission,” Amonis instructed.

“I understand,” Estara replied.

Amonis gave a curt nod, then with a flourish, pushed open the grand double doors. He gestured for Estara to enter. As she stepped inside, the gravity of the moment weighed heavily on her, each step echoing the significance of what was to come.

Chapter IV

Estara stepped inside, the doors whispering shut behind her. The sheer beauty of the room hit her like a physical force. Moonlight streamed through the windows, filtered and softened by billowing white drapes that seemed to shimmer like moonlight. In the center of the room, bathed in this ethereal glow, stood Xanathus. Estara took a deep breath, her eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

His presence was undeniable. His dark hair, the color of a raven's wing, cascaded down his back, framing a face tanned by the desert sun. His attire, the color of burnished bronze, was adorned with intricate patterns and gleamed with the glint of embedded jewels. Upon his head, a golden crown sat proudly, the symbol of his power glinting in the soft light. Estara quickly lowered her head.

“Come closer,” Xanathus commanded, and Estara did just that.

“You are Estara Nibban, am I correct?” he said.

“Yes, I am Estara Nibban, Your Majesty,” Estara replied, as she lowered her head.

Xanathus's smile broadened as he neared her, a genuine warmth radiating from him. Reaching out, he gently cupped her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his gaze. In that moment, he was utterly captivated. Her eyes, like polished smoky quartz, sparkled with a captivating luminescence. Her hair, a cascade of silken dark strands, flowed down her shoulders, each strand reflecting the surrounding light. Her skin, flawless and smooth, seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty. As their eyes met, she couldn't help but be drawn into the depths of his. The blue of his irises held a captivating intensity, a swirling galaxy of starlight that threatened to consume her entirely. For a heartbeat, she was lost, adrift in the mesmerizing depths of his gaze.

“A question, Estara,” he said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she responded.

“It is about this charade, brought on by the tale that your god-sister, Zafina, told to your aunt. How do you feel about it?” he asked.

Estara took a moment to breathe and then spoke, “I will admit that I was taken by surprise by what she did. While I do understand why she did it and I am thankful that she did, I do worry that it could possibly backfire.”

“Would you like for me to speak with your aunt?” Xanathus inquired.

“I do not think that would be a good idea,” Estara said.

“And why is that?” Xanathus asked.

“Because my aunt, Athala Suassa, is a woman who is greedy, selfish, and petty. She thinks of nothing but herself. Should you speak to her on my behalf, she will likely think that I have gained some favor of yours or that I have become one of your concubines and thus would try to extort me,” Estara explained.

Xanathus raised an eyebrow. “What kind of woman is your aunt?” he inquired.

“As I said, she is greedy, selfish, and petty. She only wants the finest things. She has been married five times, all to wealthy men, and each marriage ended in divorce. She received meager settlements from all of them. Now that she is too old to marry, she wants me to marry wealthy, so she can benefit from it,” Estara explained.

“Is it not your mother who would benefit from you marrying wealthy?” Xanathus asked.

“Yes, but my aunt feels she is entitled to benefit as well,” Estara responded.

“It sounds like your aunt cares nothing for your happiness, only hers,” Xanathus remarked.

“As I said, Your Majesty, my aunt is selfish,” Estara affirmed.

Xanathus removed his hand from Estara’s face but continued to gaze at her. His heart raced with adoration. “So, I allow this charade...you pretend to be married to one of the soldiers in the army. Then what?” he questioned.

“Well, the thought is that since I would be married to one of the soldiers, I would become Zafina’s principal attendant and perhaps be able to live in the palace,” Estara explained.

“Is that what you want? A masquerade of a marriage to one of the soldiers to throw off your aunt’s self-centered pursuit of wealth through you?” Xanathus pressed.

“No, my Lord, it is not what I want. However, it is what I am willing to do. For if my aunt finds out that she was lied to, she will retaliate. She will speak ill of me and my mother, spread untruths about us, likely saying that I put Zafina up to it,” Estara said as tears began to fall from her eyes, and she hung her head. Xanathus’ heart ached for her. He lifted her head and gently wiped away her tears.

“I want to hear what you want,” he said softly.

“I want to be my own person. To be loved for who I am, not for what someone wants me to be. Yes, I am a dreamer; I spend hours writing imaginative stories, recording my feelings, and offering prayers. But that is who I am. I am not some silly woman who dreams of having the finest fabrics and jewels. Nor am I an empty-headed courtesan hoping one of the wealthy men who pays to lie with me will be kind enough to make me their concubine,” she said, her tears flowing freely.

“I want to be spoken to as a person. I have opinions and thoughts just like everyone else. I have values; I have a heart that longs to love someone as much as they love me. I am not perfect and I don’t pretend to be. I just want to be loved and accepted for who I am. That is all I have ever asked for,” Estara finished, tears continuing to fall from her eyes.

Xanathus was moved. His eyes glistened with tears as he absorbed Estara’s emotions. “Then allow me to make you this offer, Lady Estara,” he said softly.

“What offer is that?” she asked, curiosity and apprehension in her voice.

“Allow me to court you,” he declared.

Estara’s eyes widened in surprise. “But, Your Majesty…,” she began, her voice trailing off.

“Hear me out!” Xanathus interrupted gently.

Estara went silent and nodded, indicating her willingness to listen.

“Allow me to court you. This isn't a mere request for an acquaintance but an invitation to embark on a journey of genuine discovery. I yearn for the chance to truly get to know you, to delve into the depths of your being and understand the essence that makes you who you are. The whispers of your stories have reached my ears, and they have ignited a spark of fascination within me. Each tale speaks of a vibrant tapestry woven with experiences, dreams, and aspirations. I long to hear them in your own voice, to witness the emotions that color each narrative. If you would grant me this privilege, I promise to be a dedicated companion on this path of exploration. I will listen with an open heart, absorbing your every word and nuance. My intention is not to simply hear your stories, but to understand the soul that lies behind them. This is an invitation to a slow dance, a gradual unfolding of your inner world. It is a chance for us to connect on a deeper level, where genuine curiosity and appreciation pave the way for a meaningful connection,” said Xanathus. He took Estara’s hands in his, raised them to his lips, and kissed them tenderly.

“May I ask why, Your Majesty?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because there is something about you that speaks to my heart and soul. I cannot ignore it nor do I want to,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes. Estara met his gaze, her heart pounding with emotion.

Estara smiled, a blend of joy and relief washing over her. “Then I am honored that you want to court me, Your Majesty, and I accept,” she said.

♦♦♦♦
Zafina, Amonis, Vella, Myare, and Hectorius waited anxiously in the courtyard for Estara. The celebration had long ended, and all the citizens of Qidrese had returned to their homes. Zafina was deep in prayer, with Amonis by her side, sharing in her silent invocations. Vella was also in prayer, flanked by Myare and Hectorius, who offered their support in quiet solidarity.

Suddenly, a calm feeling washed over them, and they opened their eyes, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. “Your Majesty,” Amonis said, spotting Xanathus walking toward them with Estara’s arm gently linked through his.

“All of you, I have asked Estara if I can court her, and she has accepted. Now, I ask of you, Lady Vella, if I have your blessing to court Estara?” Xanathus announced, his voice carrying a tone of earnest respect.

Vella looked at Estara and saw a serene smile on her face, a smile that spoke of newfound happiness. Vella’s own smile mirrored Estara's as she responded, “Of course, you have my blessing.”

“You have our blessing as well,” Hectorius added, his voice filled with assurance.

“Thank you,” Xanathus said, his gratitude evident.

Amonis and Zafina shared a smile, but concern clouded Zafina's eyes as she remembered the tale she had spun to Athala. “What about Athala?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“Yes, I had forgotten about my aunt. What are we going to do about her?” Estara questioned, her concern mirroring Zafina’s.

“Leave that to me,” Hectorius interjected confidently.

“What do you plan to do?” Myare asked, curiosity and concern mingling in her tone.

“What should have been done a long time ago,” Hectorius replied, his expression resolute and unwavering, as the gravity of his words settled over them. Hearing this brought a sense of calm to everyone.

♦♦♦♦
Athala was summoned to the palace. She felt a spark of excitement but also a gnawing worry.

“I hope Estara hasn’t done something reckless,” she muttered as she stepped into the grand halls.

Three palace guards soon approached, leading her to one of the palace libraries. Inside stood Hectorius and Myare. Athala let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and walked toward the desk where Hectorius sat, with Myare at his side.

“Where’s the king?” she asked, glancing around.

“The king didn’t summon you. I did,” Hectorius replied.

“Oh? And why would you summon me instead of the king?” she asked, a hint of irritation slipping into her tone.

Hectorius raised an eyebrow, and Myare pressed her lips together, clearly holding back.

“Athala, why are you so certain the king would want to see you?” Hectorius asked.

“I assumed it was to ask about Estara. Isn’t she supposed to marry one of the king’s soldiers and serve as Zafina’s principal attendant? That’s what Zafina told me,” Athala replied.

“Zafina only told you that to keep Amil Zezor away,” Hectorius said dryly.

“I knew it! I had a feeling she was lying!” Athala huffed. “Of course, Estara put her up to it. That girl will learn the consequences of dragging nobility into her schemes. I’ll see to it,” she added, her voice rising.

Hectorius rose from his chair, his voice a thunderous rebuke. “You will do no such thing!”

Athala took an instinctive step back, her confidence momentarily shattered.

“Just so you know,” Myare said with a calm, pointed tone, “Estara had nothing to do with Zafina’s story. It was all Zafina’s idea.”

“But why? Why would Zafina do something like that?” Athala asked, genuinely puzzled.

Hectorius remained silent, allowing Myare to answer.

“Are you truly that blind and self-centered?” Myare asked, her voice laced with disdain.

“Excuse me?” Athala snapped. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Hectorius smirked while Myare merely shook her head. “You are that blind and self-centered,” Myare continued. “Estara and Zafina are god-sisters and closest friends…”

“I know that, Myare,” Athala interrupted.

“Be silent!” Myare’s sharp tone silenced her. “As I was saying, Estara and Zafina are inseparable. Naturally, Zafina would protect Estara—and Estara would do the same for her. Zafina lied to protect Estara from your selfish attempts to use her to climb the social ladder.”

Athala fell silent, finally taking in the accusation. “So, Zafina willingly lied to me?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

Myare closed her eyes, exasperated, while Hectorius chuckled darkly. “Yes, Zafina lied to you—willingly,” he said. “They’re like sisters, Athala, something you failed to notice as they grew up.”

Athala looked stunned, while Myare continued to regard her with contempt.

“Not only are you greedy and petty, but you’re blind as a rock,” Myare muttered.

Athala clenched her fists, finally asking, “Then why did you summon me here, Hectorius?”

“To make you an offer,” he replied.

“What sort of offer?”

“Thirty thousand gold dadnes and a chest of the rarest gems. All yours,” Hectorius said, his voice cold.

“And why would you offer me that?” Athala asked, suspicious.

“Because it’s all you care about. You have no love for Vella, or Estara,” he replied bluntly.

Athala narrowed her eyes. “And how, may I ask, do you have the authority to make such an offer?”

“I asked the king. He gladly agreed,” Hectorius said with a bitter smile.

“And why would he agree to something like that?” Athala demanded.

“Because we told him everything. Every petty detail about your mistreatment of Vella, your endless criticisms, your shameless pursuit of wealthy men, and finally, your haste to marry off Estara as soon as she reached maturity,” Myare said, her voice hardening.

Athala was left speechless, her face pale as she looked between them.

“Everything the king knows about you, Athala, came from us. Vella and Estara merely confirmed what we said,” Hectorius stated coldly.

A realization hit Athala with unexpected force—Hectorius and Myare had never liked her. The truth left her momentarily speechless.

“I never understood why you shunned me but always supported Vella. Now I do,” she said, her voice trembling as tears gathered in her eyes. “And it’s a mistake you’ll pay for.”

Myare stepped forward, stopping inches from Athala’s face. “You’re painfully unaware of the reputation you carry. Let me enlighten you,” she hissed. “All five of your former husbands have warned others about you. Even the Kimias family regrets ever associating with you. Say one false word about Hectorius or me, and we’ll ensure you lose everything.”

Hectorius crossed his arms, a look of contempt on his face. “Your self-delusion astounds me. You’re not as admired or trusted as you think,” he added. “Take the offer—thirty thousand gold dadnes and a chest of the rarest gems—and leave Vella and Estara alone. For good.”

Reluctantly, Athala accepted the offer, watching as the promised gold and gems were loaded into her wagon. As she drove back home, her mind churned with frustration and confusion. She couldn’t fathom what she had done wrong. All she had ever wanted was wealth and status—something Vella never seemed to care about. Yet, as the road stretched out before her, she realized it was a question she would have to contemplate deeply.

The Courtship

On the momentous day Athala arrived at the palace, another pivotal event was unfolding—a budding courtship between Xanathus and Estara. Estara’s heart fluttered with nerves as she prepared herself. Never had she imagined she would capture the attention of the king. Her thoughts swirled with questions: Was she truly worthy of his regard? What if she misspoke or disappointed him? Taking a steadying breath, she straightened her posture and made her way to the palace gardens, where Xanathus awaited her.

She had chosen a simple yet elegant purple gown with long sleeves, its hue a subtle nod to the royalty she now found herself mingling with. Her hair, typically worn loose, was pulled back in a neat low ponytail, framing her face and highlighting her natural grace. As she entered the gardens, her gaze searched for Xanathus, a mixture of apprehension and excitement sparking through her.

Although she could have requested finer attire from her godparents or Zafina, Estara never asked. She hoped her modest dress and quiet elegance would suffice.

Xanathus stood in the garden, fidgeting with a small, wrapped package in his hands, anticipation making his palms sweat. Every rustle of leaves, every birdsong heightened his alertness, his heart pounding with nervous excitement. Finally, he saw her—a vision, radiant as the sun. A broad smile broke across his face, and he rose swiftly to greet her, his heart thundering with joy.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Estara said softly, bowing before him.

“No, no. Please, do not bow to me,” he replied. “If anything, I should be bowing to you.”

Estara looked up, astonished. Did the king truly just say that? For a moment, she was speechless. She glanced at him, admiring his attire: a green Sherwani top and white trousers that complemented his confident yet gentle presence.

“You look very handsome today, my lord,” Estara managed to say, her cheeks warming.

“And you, my dear Estara, are breathtaking,” Xanathus said, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers.

Estara’s smile deepened, her shyness momentarily forgotten. She noticed the small package in his hand. “My lord, may I ask what that is?” she inquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Xanathus held out the gift. “A token for you, my lovely Estara.”

She opened the box, revealing a delicate gold necklace adorned with an oval-shaped diamond. She drew in a sharp breath, overwhelmed.

“My lord, this is…,” she began, words failing her.

“A diamond, one of the world’s rarest and most beautiful treasures,” he replied. “And I believe a woman as beautiful as you deserves such a gem.”

A tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, “Thank you, my lord.”

Xanathus gently lifted the necklace and fastened it around her neck. Estara touched the pendant, humbled by his thoughtfulness.

“So, what would you like to do today, my lord?” Estara asked, her voice soft and sincere.

“Tell me about your stories, Estara,” he said, taking her hand as they strolled through the garden. “What inspires them? Where do they come from?”

Estara’s eyes sparkled as she answered. “Many things inspire my stories—the stars, the laughter of everyday people, even dreams I have. Sometimes it’s something as simple as a flower or an unexpected act of kindness.”

Xanathus listened, captivated by her words. To her, beauty existed in everything, no matter how simple or flawed.

“You have such an open heart,” he said warmly. “It’s both humbling and inspiring.”

Estara’s cheeks flushed. “Many people find you inspiring, Your Majesty. The palace, your power… People speak of you with great admiration.”

Xanathus looked at her thoughtfully. In her presence, he felt not just admiration but a shared humanity, something rare and precious. And as they continued their walk, he knew he was captivated by more than just her beauty—he was drawn to her spirit, her kindness, and the quiet strength that lay beneath.

Xanathus released a weary sigh. “Yes, I’m sure they do,” he admitted, his voice laced with the quiet strain of a hidden burden. “But they’re blissfully unaware of the mountain of tedious tasks that demand my constant attention—the endless reports, intricate negotiations, an unceasing flood of details threatening to consume me. And then there’s the incessant push from my Viziers, all fixated on expanding our borders, eager for conquest, as if the security of Qidrese itself weren’t responsibility enough.” His words conveyed both exasperation and an unspoken concern for his kingdom’s well-being.

Estara studied him thoughtfully, recognizing the toll his role had taken on him, the weight of kingship evident in his expression.

“My lord, may I ask a question?” she ventured.

“Of course,” Xanathus replied, turning his gaze to her.

“Have you ever stepped outside the palace walls to spend time with the citizens?” she asked gently. “To walk among them, truly speak with them—not as their king, but as someone interested in their lives, their hopes, and their dreams?”

Xanathus paused, taken aback by her suggestion. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “What prompted you to ask?”

She hesitated briefly, then continued, “I hope I’m not overstepping, and if I am, please forgive me. I only thought… perhaps, meeting the people of Qidrese could bring you some insight, something beneficial for you as a king.”

Xanathus considered her words, a smile slowly forming. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. But now, I will give it more thought.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord. I hope I didn’t overstep,” Estara said with a soft smile.

Closing the space between them, Xanathus gently cupped her face. “You didn’t overstep, my dear. If anything, you’ve given me much to consider—and that’s a gift.” His smile deepened as he held her gaze, his appreciation evident.

Estara’s cheeks flushed as he took her hand once more, lifting it to his lips to place a tender kiss upon it.

Not far off, Amonis watched the pair intently. Zafina joined him, glancing at Xanathus and Estara with a satisfied smile.

“How goes the first day of their courtship?” she asked.

“It’s progressing well,” Amonis replied, smiling. “His Majesty hasn’t stopped smiling since she arrived.”

“That’s good to hear. By the way, Mother and Father offered Athala the thirty thousand gold dadnes and the chest of rare gems,” Zafina said. “And she took it.”

“So she accepted it willingly?” Amonis asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More like reluctantly,” Zafina replied with a slight smile. “She finally realized that my parents have never liked her, and it actually hurt her feelings.”

Amonis turned to look at Zafina, his expression incredulous. “She—the woman who’s made Estara’s life miserable and tormented her mother—was upset that your parents didn’t like her? How blind could she be?”

“Remarkably blind. Or rather, so self-deluded she never noticed their disdain,” Zafina said, shaking her head. “She even threatened to ‘make them pay’ for helping Vella and Estara all these years.”

Amonis’ eyes widened. “Either she’s incredibly bold, or her selfishness has driven her to pure foolishness if she thought threatening your parents would end well.”

“Likely both,” Zafina replied with a smirk. “Mother told her plainly that if she spread a single lie about them, they’d make sure she lost everything.”

Amonis scoffed. “And she’d deserve it, after everything she’s put Estara and her mother through.”

As they continued to watch Xanathus and Estara stroll through the garden, both felt the beauty of the moment—the beginning of a blossoming romance between a king and a commoner. Just then, Zafina’s expression changed, her eyes distant as a vision flashed through her mind. She gripped Amonis’ hand.

“What is it, my Sapphire?” Amonis asked, his gaze filled with concern.

“A vision, from the Divine Ancient,” Zafina murmured.

“What did you see?” he asked.

“It was Xanathus and Estara, standing beneath the night sky. They held hands, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Above them, a golden moon hung, while the stars sparkled like diamonds.”

Amonis’ eyes softened. “What could it mean?”

“Perhaps… marriage,” Zafina said quietly.

Amonis turned back toward Xanathus and Estara, a warm smile forming on his face. He could almost picture the two joined in marriage. “I think you’re right. Marriage is on the horizon for them.”

“I agree,” Zafina said, threading her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. Yet, as she gazed at the pair, she held back part of the vision. Another image had revealed itself to her: Amonis and Xanathus, side by side, standing beneath the lion’s head and star emblem of Qidrese.

In a whisper only she could hear, Zafina murmured, “The king… he is your brother, my dear Amonis.”

Chapter V

Half a year had passed since King Xanathus offered his hand in courtship to Estara, and she had graciously accepted. Whispers of a royal union now danced through the palace halls and echoed in the streets of Qidrese.

The sentiment in both the city and the royal household toward Estara was overwhelmingly positive. Citizens and servants alike marveled at her influence on the King, crediting her with inspiring a profound shift in his demeanor. Since meeting her, Xanathus had become more engaged with the daily lives of his people, exuding a newfound friendliness, kindness, compassion, and understanding that endeared him to his subjects.

He had also shown openness to trade negotiations with foreign lands—a prospect that greatly upset the Viziers. Today, the Viziers gathered in secret beneath the palace, where an underground canal flowed in the shadows.

“Who is this woman?” Vizier Mael demanded.

“Her name is Estara Nibban,” answered Vizier Zacarias. “Daughter of a modest perfumer and cosmetics maker."

“Why does the King favor a woman of such moderate means?” scoffed Vizier Najoth. “He ought to be courting someone of noble birth.”

“I’ve heard she’s the god-sister of the High Guard’s wife,” added Vizier Semyazza.

Vizier Mael sneered. “I’ve never liked that woman. She acts as if she considers herself equal to the High Guard. She is not! No doubt this Estara carries herself the same way.”

“We must find a way to be rid of her,” Vizier Semyazza declared darkly.

“I’ll send one of my spies to dig into her past,” said Vizier Zacarias. “Everyone has secrets. We’ll find hers and use it to force her out of the King’s life.”

Mael nodded approvingly. “Do it, Zacarias. With any luck, your spy will uncover something damning, and we can compel her to leave the King be.”

Unbeknownst to the Viziers, however, someone was spying on them, listening to every word. This unlikely observer, privy to all the palace's secrets and betrayals, planned to play a decisive role in ensuring that Xanathus and Estara's path to matrimony would go undeterred.

♦♦♦♦
Within the opulent tea room of the palace, Estara awaited Xanathus’ arrival. Her emerald green dress flowed with elegance, its long, sheer split sleeves adding an ethereal touch. Her dark hair was styled in a meticulous bun, with delicate, spiral curls framing her face like a soft halo. Around her neck, the pendant gifted by Xanathus shimmered, a constant reminder of his affection. As the sound of approaching footsteps reached her, Estara turned, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Xanathus. Rising to greet him, she took in his refined elegance—dressed in an ivory Sherwani top with light gold pants, perfectly complementing her attire. The air between them felt electric, promising an encounter rich with unspoken emotions.

“Hello, my lovely,” he said, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss upon it.

“Hello, my darling Lord and King,” she replied, a warm smile gracing her lips.

They sat across from each other at the tea table, Xanathus holding her hand a moment longer before releasing it.

“How is your mother?” he asked, his tone soft with genuine interest.

“She’s well,” Estara replied. “She and Matron Myare have decided to go into business together.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Xanathus said, pouring tea for her and then for himself.

“Yes, Mama and Matron Myare have always dreamed of this,” Estara said, stirring honey into her tea. “They’re combining their expertise.”

Xanathus nodded as he sweetened his own tea. “Have they chosen a name for their new venture?”

“Not yet. They’ve made a long list of possibilities,” she replied with a soft laugh.

“And what about you, my lovely Estara?” Xanathus asked, his gaze warm. “Are there any dreams or endeavors you wish to pursue?”

Estara smiled shyly. “My ambitions may seem rather humble, my Lord.”

“Well, tell me anyway,” he encouraged, his eyes alight with curiosity.

A spark of longing shone in her gaze. “I’ve always dreamed of writing stories,” she confessed, her voice soft but certain. “Books filled with tales of enduring love—the kind that gives courage and resilience. Stories that breathe hope into readers, showing them that even in the darkest hours, dawn will come. And adventures, where characters embark on journeys that reveal their hidden strengths.” Her smile grew wistful. “Perhaps within those pages, I could offer a gentle hand, a whisper of encouragement, or even a prayer for those in need.”

Xanathus smiled, his admiration clear. “I’ve heard your stories, and I’ve seen how much you pour into them. I wouldn’t call such an endeavor underwhelming at all.”

Estara smiled softly. “I brought my book with me. I wasn’t entirely sure if I should, but something in me just felt it was right.”

“May I see it?” Xanathus asked, his voice gentle.

“Of course.” She reached into her white shoulder bag and drew out the large tome. It was an imposing book—its spine thick with countless pages, a veritable behemoth. The leather cover, a rich shade of purplish-gray, had a subtle sheen, suggesting years of careful handling. Intricate gold patterns danced across its surface, swirling in designs reminiscent of a forgotten era. Each delicate line caught the light, giving the book an aura of mystery and reverence. Standing, Estara walked over and placed it in Xanathus’ hands.

“This is my book,” she said softly, a slight tremor in her voice. “It’s filled with my stories, but also my hopes, dreams, and prayers. And I share it with you, my love.”

Xanathus looked at her with warmth and respect as he took the book, carefully opening its pages. Estara watched as he leafed through it, pausing here and there to read snippets, visibly intrigued.

“My love, would you read one to me?” he asked, handing the open book back to her.

Estara’s eyes widened in surprise; he wanted to hear her own words aloud. “This…this one I wrote when I was sixteen years old, my Lord.”

“Please,” he said with a gentle smile. “I’d love to hear it.”

Estara nodded, her smile growing as she began to read.

“He haunts my dreams, a man whose name remains a mystery. One night, his image etched itself onto my soul, and ever since, I have crafted endless portraits of him in my mind. Day and night, I find myself drawn to the window, an unspoken yearning pulling me toward the horizon. I wait for him—a man I haven’t met, a face I haven’t truly seen. Though I close my eyes to conjure his features, they remain elusive, forever shrouded in a tantalizing blur.

And yet, my heart knows him. It yearns for him, with an undeniable certainty that I will fall madly in love. My handsome beloved, whose face I cannot clearly see, one day soon, I will stand before you, and your features will be unveiled. Until then, I send you my heart and soul.”

Xanathus smiled, then clapped softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of admiration. “It’s beautiful, my lovely.”

“Thank you, my King,” she replied, her cheeks tinged with warmth.

“So…you were sixteen when you wrote that?” he asked.

“Yes. I’d been having dreams about a man,” she said, her fingers brushing the cover as she closed the book. “I didn’t know his face or his name. All I sensed was that he longed for me as much as I for him. Though…keep in mind, I was an adolescent.”

“Tell me more about your dreams,” Xanathus urged, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

Estara’s eyes held a faraway gleam. “Sometimes they’re beautiful. Other times, they’re strange and almost impossible to understand. Occasionally, they’re just…a mixture of so many things, all swirling together. Matron Myare and Mama have both told me that when dreams become jumbled like that, it means something is being prepared.”

Xanathus smiled thoughtfully, absorbing her words as if they were fragments of a greater mystery unfolding before him.

“Please, sit, my Lovely Gem,” Xanathus said, gesturing to the chair. Estara took her seat, looking up at him with a hint of surprise.

“Lovely Gem?” she echoed, a soft smile forming.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes warm. “You’re as rare and radiant as the finest jewel.”

“Then you are my Lion Heart,” she responded with a gentle smile, “for you are strong, brave, and pure of heart.”

Xanathus’s smile deepened as he rose from his seat and crossed over to her. Gently, he lifted her book from her lap and set it on the table. Taking her hands in his, he helped her to her feet, drawing her close.

“Then I will be your Lion Heart,” he whispered before they shared a soft, lingering kiss.

Unbeknownst to them, the same mysterious figure who had overheard the Viziers was now quietly observing. But this time, the figure smiled, whispering, “The Lion-Hearted King and his Lovely Gem Queen. Together, you’ll rule Qidrese with love, courage, hope, and justice.”

♦♦♦♦
After tea, Xanathus led Estara deeper into the palace, each room unfolding like a revelation. Intricate mosaics covered the floors, the sunlight filtering through stained glass casting rainbow patterns that danced around them. Gilded statues of mythical creatures stood guard along grand hallways, their eyes seeming to follow Estara’s every step. Lush tapestries depicting forgotten battles and fantastical beasts adorned the walls. The air thrummed with an ancient magic, the very stones whispering stories of the palace’s long history. Estara took it all in, awe deepening in her gaze until she turned to Xanathus, her eyes bright with wonder.

“You have a question, my love?” he asked, noticing her look.

“What was it like growing up here?” she asked softly.

“It was…typical for the Prince of Qidrese,” he replied, a touch of bitterness slipping into his tone. “Servants attended to my every whim, and the Viziers? They patronized me constantly. It’s rather ironic. Those same Viziers now expect me to heed their every suggestion, as if their words are decrees from the heavens. But honestly? I can’t help but feel it’s all a facade. Do they truly care about me, about Qidrese, or just about preserving their own power?”

His voice held a quiet disillusionment. The shift from a pampered prince to a king treated like a mere figurehead felt hollow, exposing a deeper cynicism as he wondered if any of it was sincere.

Estara looked at him thoughtfully. “If you feel that way…then why keep them around, if I may ask?”

“I suppose it’s because they were my father’s Viziers, and now they are mine. Tradition, perhaps...but sentimentality? No,” Xanathus replied.

“If I may offer an opinion, my lord?” Estara asked.

“Always, my love,” he said, pulling her into his embrace.

Estara looked up at him thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed how deeply you trust Amonis. Forgive me if I overstep, but I suspect you trust him more than the Viziers.”

“I do,” Xanathus admitted. “Amonis and I have been close since we were young. He’s more than a friend; he’s like a brother. Strangely enough, we often think alike.”

Estara smiled gently. “Then perhaps, my lord, consider making him your Principal Vizier. You trust him more than the others.”

Xanathus considered her suggestion, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been wanting to give Amonis more responsibility, and making him Principal Vizier would accomplish that.”

Estara’s smile widened. “I want you to know, my lord, that I pray for you. From the moment I rise with the sun to when I lay my head to rest beneath the moonlight.”

Xanathus took her hands, pressing a kiss to them with a warm smile. “I must confess, I didn’t pray as much before. But now, I find myself doing the same as you—praying from sunrise to nightfall. Not only for myself but also for you, your mother, for Amonis, Zafina, and her parents. And for all of Qidrese, that it might live, thrive, and prosper.”

“The people of Qidrese still speak of the celebration,” Estara said, her voice soft. “They’re grateful that you’ve stepped beyond the palace walls to connect with them, to show an interest in their lives.”

“Well, without the people, there is no Qidrese. I may wear the crown, but Qidrese is not the throne—it is the people,” Xanathus replied.

Estara’s eyes shone. “And this is why I call you my Lion Heart.”

“And you are my Lovely Gem,” he said, his voice tender, “for your rare kindness, understanding, and love.”

Xanathus wrapped his arms around Estara, and they shared a passionate, heartfelt kiss.


In the dark of night, deep within a hidden passageway, Vizier Zacarias waited, eyes darting at every faint sound. A sudden noise made him jump.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

A man with long dark hair and a shadowy beard stepped into the dim light, his clothes blending into the darkness. “My lord, you seem tense,” the man said smoothly.

“Shadar, you startled me,” Zacarias replied, regaining his composure.

“That’s because you’re easily startled,” Shadar replied with a faint smirk.

“Are you mocking me, Shadar?” Zacarias’s tone turned cold.

“Mocking? Never, my lord. If I were to insult you, I assure you it would be far less obvious,” Shadar said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Zacarias bristled but bit back a retort. He couldn’t afford a petty clash of egos tonight.

“Have you uncovered anything about Estara Nibban?” he asked curtly.

“She has an aunt,” Shadar began, “with a reputation. This woman has been married five times, each husband wealthier than the last. Every marriage ended in divorce, and each settlement was… modest, shall we say.”

“Is Estara close to this aunt?” Zacarias asked.

“Not at all. Estara and her mother, Vella, have distanced themselves from her,” Shadar replied.

“And Estara herself?” Zacarias pressed.

Shadar shrugged. “By all accounts, she’s a woman of unimpeachable virtue—never betrothed, never touched by a man. She has devoted herself to aiding her mother. She places her faith in the Divine Ancient, trusting that she will be united with her destined partner in time.”

Zacarias arched a brow. “Twenty-seven years old, untouched and unmarried? Peculiar. Is there something… off-putting about her appearance, perhaps?”

Shadar gave a small, dismissive smile. “Nothing of the sort, my lord. It seems more a matter of her own self-respect. Those who know her say her faith is absolute—she believes the Divine will reveal her destined love.”

Zacarias snorted. “Surely, she doesn’t imagine the king himself is her fated match.”

“I only relay what I’ve gathered,” Shadar replied, voice carefully neutral.

Zacarias pondered this, an idea forming. “Thank you, Shadar. Your findings will prove useful.”

He reached into his robes and handed Shadar a bag of gold dadnes, which the spy accepted with a silent, satisfied nod.

With the bag of dadnes in hand, Shadar watched Vizier Zacarias retreat back into the palace with a smirk. "Fool," he muttered under his breath. "You and your fellow Viziers are so lost in your schemes that you’ll tear each other apart."

Later that night, Vizier Zacarias convened a secret meeting with his fellow Viziers in their usual hidden chamber beneath the palace.

“Why summon us so late?” asked Vizier Semyazza, his voice sharp with irritation.

“I have information on Estara Nibban,” Zacarias replied.

“Well, what is it?” prompted Vizier Najoth.

Zacarias leaned forward. “Estara is… a virgin.”

The other Viziers exchanged skeptical looks, their confusion evident.

“How is that useful to us?” Vizier Mael asked, unimpressed.

“Don’t you see?” Zacarias pressed. “Her innocence makes her naive. We could exploit that.”

Mael scoffed. “And you’re certain of this… virtue of hers?”

“I agree with Mael,” Najoth interjected. “Proof is essential.”

Semyazza, however, seemed intrigued. “Wait. Perhaps Zacarias is onto something,” he said thoughtfully.

“How so?” Mael asked, raising a brow.

“Imagine the damage we could cause,” Semyazza explained, his voice laced with a sinister excitement. “A mere whisper questioning her purity could sow distrust between her and the king. We’d only need to plant a seed.”

Mael and Najoth shared a sly smile, the gears in their minds turning.

“Precisely,” Mael added, “if she’s so sheltered, she’d go to great lengths to prove herself—perhaps even do something humiliating. That would damage both her reputation and, by extension, the king’s.”

Semyazza nodded, pleased. “Then it’s settled. We spread a subtle rumor, see what unfolds.”

But Zacarias interjected, raising a cautious hand. “I suggest we approach this with more subtlety,” he advised. “A rumor could backfire on us as well. Instead, we should lead her to believe the king would want her to behave a certain way. She’s trusting enough that she’d follow our guidance, even if it’s entirely misguided.”

The other Viziers eyed Zacarias, a glimmer of interest igniting in their eyes.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Najoth asked, leaning forward.

“We feed her advice on how to ‘please’ the king,” Zacarias explained, a wicked smile forming. “Encourage her to take actions that we know would only push him away. Subtle moves. In the end, she’ll drive herself to break the courtship—and the king will be none the wiser.”

“Such as what, exactly?” Vizier Mael asked with a hint of skepticism.

“Encourage her to overstep,” Zacarias explained, undeterred. “Push her to listen in on private meetings, to read confidential documents—make her believe the king desires a partner deeply involved in his affairs. Once she realizes she’s crossed a line, her shame will force her to withdraw from the courtship.”

The other Viziers exchanged unimpressed looks.

“That’s ridiculous!” Vizier Najoth scoffed.

“I agree. Our way is more effective,” Mael sneered. “Embarrass her publicly, in front of the king.”

“But why involve the king in this embarrassment?” Zacarias protested.

Semyazza smirked. “Because it deepens her disgrace. Once she’s out, we’ll persuade the king to pursue expansion. The lands outside of Qidrese are ripe for conquest.”

Zacarias clenched his fists. “I’m telling you, my approach is better!”

But Mael, Najoth, and Semyazza dismissed him, leaving without a word. Standing alone in the dim passage, Zacarias seethed.

“They think they can ignore me?” he muttered darkly. “I’ll handle this my way. And it will be my proposal for expansion that the king accepts first.”

Chapter VI


The palace and the city streets alike buzzed with whispers of marriage. Seven months of courtship between King Xanathus and Estara Nibban had only added fuel to the speculation. Every week, the King would hold court with his people, and increasingly, Estara stood by his side. The citizens observed the blossoming affection between them firsthand, as King Xanathus’s attention and quiet acts of love toward Estara grew more evident.

Estara, in turn, mirrored the King’s affections with warmth and devotion. Her presence, however, suggested something deeper. She carried herself with a serene confidence and grace, qualities that hinted at her potential as a future queen. Though humble, she offered the King gentle yet firm guidance, a subtle display of leadership that endeared her to the people, many of whom began to voice their hopes that she would soon become their queen.

The Viziers, ever vigilant, took note of this growing sentiment, but no one was more intrigued than Athala, Estara’s aunt.

That day, Athala made her way to Vella’s new home—a gift from Myare and Hectorius. She pounded on the door, her impatience ringing through her knock. When Vella opened the door, Athala did not waste time.

“Athala, what brings you here?” Vella asked, standing in the doorway.

Athala’s gaze narrowed. "I’d rather not discuss this in the company of strangers—unless, of course, you want the whole city to hear what I think of Estara."

Vella held her composure and stepped aside, gesturing for her sister to enter. Once inside, Vella closed the door.

“So?” she asked calmly. “What is it you’ve come to say?”

“What’s this nonsense I hear about Estara and the King?” Athala demanded.

Vella answered evenly, “The king asked if he could court Estara. Myare, Hectorius, and I gave our blessings.”

Athala’s expression shifted from surprise to disbelief, then to thinly veiled anger.

“You allowed Estara to be courted by the King without consulting me?” Athala’s tone held a sting of indignation.

Vella arched a brow. “Why would I consult you?” she asked. “Myare and Hectorius have far more influence, knowledge, and class than you care to recognize. And in any case, before the king even approached me, he first asked Estara for her permission.”

Athala blinked, astonished. “Why would the king need to ask Estara for permission?”

“Because he understands common courtesy, dear sister,” Vella replied, arms folded. “Did you think a king would be incapable of basic respect?”

Athala sneered. “He’s a king, Vella. Why should he bother himself with trivial things like courtesy?”

Vella sighed, her voice growing firm. “You seem to think that wealth and power are excuses for disrespect, as though they exempt people from decency. But you forget the most important truth of all: no one—no matter how wealthy or powerful—stands above the Divine Ancient.”

Athala rolled her eyes. “Your endless talk of the Divine Ancient bores me, as always. Tell me, what has your devotion to all this brought you?”

“Everything,” Vella replied, her raised brow adding weight to her words. “My home, my business, my marriage to Vidar, and the gift of Estara. Myare’s friendship, and their role as Estara’s godparents—all of it has been blessed by my faith. I take none of it for granted.”

Athala regarded her sister with a mixture of confusion and disdain.

“I’ve never understood you, Vella. You’ve spent years praying to the Divine Ancient, settling for a man as modest as Vidar. Estara, too, is a dreamer, scribbling her hopes and prayers. Why should such fortune fall to you, when it is I who deserve it?”

“Because you’ve pursued nothing but wealth and power,” Vella replied calmly. “All I’ve ever wanted is happiness, the kind that brings love, security, and peace. That’s all Estara wants, too. Vidar may not have left us with riches, but he left us with memories of love and joy. That love is what pushed me forward, to open my business as a perfumer and cosmetics maker.”

Athala scoffed. “Love,” she sneered. “It makes people weak, fools them into doing ridiculous things, and leads only to heartbreak.”

Vella’s expression hardened. “Athala, leave my house. Now.”

Athala bristled. “I will not! I came for answers, and I will have them.”

“What answers do you want?” Vella asked.

“How did Estara manage to convince the King to court her?” Athala demanded.

“She did nothing of the sort,” Vella replied.

“Liar!” spat Athala.

Vella regarded her with pity, a look that only deepened Athala’s resentment.

“Don’t look at me like that! I feel no shame or remorse for what I’ve done to claim what’s mine.”

Vella moved to the door and opened it. “This is my home, and you are a guest. Leave, now.”

Athala was momentarily stunned by Vella’s tone. “I certainly will not!” she replied, attempting defiance.

“This is my home,” Vella repeated, her voice firm. “And I will say it one last time: leave.”

Seeing the steely resolve in Vella’s eyes—a strength Athala had never seen before—Athala felt a flicker of fear. She turned and left without another word, the door closing firmly behind her. As she made her way back to the hired wagon waiting outside, Athala was troubled, unable to grasp what had changed in her sister. What she didn’t realize was that Vella hadn’t changed at all.

Once alone, Vella knelt in the quiet of her sitting room and prayed. “Divine Ancient, thank you for the strength you’ve given me, a strength I’ve always held within me. I leave my sister to you, for I know she may never understand. Thank you for all the blessings you’ve granted me, and please, watch over Estara and the King. I sense there are those who do not share in their happiness.”

With a silent, heartfelt thanks, Vella rose, feeling peace settle within her.

At the palace, Estara sat in the parlor with her book in hand, Zafina beside her, while Amonis and Xanathus stood nearby. Estara was reading one of her stories to the household servants, who listened intently. Her voice brought to life the tale of a young woman named Aira, who had fallen in love with Zelus, a silent sculptor whose artistry spoke volumes.

“Aira admired each sculpture Zelus crafted,” Estara read, her tone soft and expressive. "Through his art, she learned pieces of his story. Longing for him to notice her, she wrote him a heartfelt letter and left it on his doorstep, praying to the Divine Ancient that he would read it.

“One day, Aira went to an exhibit hall, hoping to reveal herself as the letter’s author if he had read it. But when she arrived, she found Zelus in the arms of another woman. Heartbroken, she asked a curator, 'Who is she?'

“'Her name is Daphis,' the curator replied. 'She comes from wealth, and her family has become patrons of Zelus. They are in love.'

“Aira felt her heart sink but forced a smile. 'Then I wish them blessings,' she said and left the hall. On her way home, tears blurred her vision. Soon, an older man with a concerned expression stopped her.

“What troubles you, my dear?” he asked.

“'It’s nothing... just the dreams of a foolish girl,'”Aira replied and continued on her way.

“The man, however, followed and caught up with her. 'Dreams are never foolish,' he said gently. 'They are the whispers of the Divine Ancient. If you have a dream, consult with the Divine Ancient and see what guidance is offered.”

“Aira said nothing but nodded, heading home with his words in her heart.”

“The older man watched her until she disappeared from sight. Sighing, he made his way to the exhibit hall. Inside, he saw Daphis and Zelus in a warm embrace. He walked over to them, shaking his head.

“Zelus, it's time to prepare for the showing,”he said.

“Zelus nodded, stepping away from Daphis to meet with his interpreter, who had taught him to speak with his hands. As he prepared, the older man took Daphis aside.

“'You are unkind, Daphis,” he told her quietly.

“'What do you mean, Father?' she replied, feigning innocence.”

Estara closed the book, her gaze drifting to her silent audience. The room was filled with a quiet stillness as they pondered the story's emotions and depth.

“Zelus is truly gifted, a blessing from the Divine Ancient,” the older man began, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Daphis. "But you don't love him. You're drawn only to his gift, using him for your own amusement. How long until your fascination fades and you move on to exploit someone else?"
Daphis said nothing.

“Can you, for once, look beyond your own desires and appreciate a person for all they offer?” he asked.

Daphis rolled her eyes. “Father, must you lecture me every time? So what if I admire his talent? He has nothing else to give—he can't even speak.”

Zelus, unnoticed by them, had overheard. The pain in his eyes was clear as he quietly slipped out of the exhibit hall.

Meanwhile, Aira didn’t go home. She made her way to the shrine of the Divine Ancient, where she sat in silence, her heart heavy with sorrow. Tears streamed down her face, lost in prayer, when she heard the shrine doors open and close softly. She kept her head down, until a gentle feeling compelled her to look up. To her surprise, Zelus was seated nearby, his own eyes brimming with tears.

Concerned, Aira approached him. "What’s wrong?" she asked him in hand language, a skill her uncle had taught her.

Zelus responded in hand language, explaining that he’d overheard Daphis dismissing him, saying she only cared about his sculptures and disregarding him because he couldn’t speak. He pulled a piece of paper from his belt, and Aira's heart skipped; she recognized it as the letter she had written to him. He continued, expressing his confusion at how Daphis could write such tender words yet speak of him with such cruelty.

Taking a steadying breath, Aira signed, “Zelus, Daphis didn’t write that letter. I did.”

Zelus' eyes widened. “You wrote this?” he signed.

Aira nodded, signing, “I’ve loved you for who you are, not just for your sculptures. I see a kind soul, a generous heart. I’ve written countless poems about you, about how much I love you. And if you let me, I’d like to show you.”

Zelus smiled at her, a warmth and light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Will you allow me to make a sculpture of you?” he asked.

Aira beamed. "I’d be honored," she signed. “And, if you’re willing, I’d love to read my poems to you.”

Zelus nodded. “I would be honored,” he signed in reply, his smile now filled with joy and gratitude.

Later that day, Daphis went looking for Zelus. She approached his house and noticed him through the window, carefully working on a new sculpture. From afar, she saw it was the form of a woman and smiled, thinking he must be sculpting her. But as she drew closer, she realized the sculpture depicted someone else. A pang of jealousy rose within her, though she quickly tried to push it aside.

She moved up to the window and called out his name. Zelus glanced over, saw her, and then turned his attention back to his work. Frustrated, she called his name again, only to be met with silence. Growing irritated, she shouted his name. At that moment, Omar, Zelus’ interpreter, approached her.

“He’s busy. Come back another time,” he said curtly.

Daphis lifted her chin defiantly. “He seems to forget who provided him with the exhibit hall for his sculptures,” she replied in a haughty tone.

Omar scoffed. “Let’s be clear—you didn’t discover Zelus. That was your father’s doing, and he owns the hall. You have no claim here, spoiled child.”

Daphis shot him a glare before storming off. Omar watched her go, muttering, “One day, she’ll learn the world doesn’t and won’t ever revolve around her.” He then looked over at Zelus’ new sculpture, smiling. "Dear Divine Ancient, I believe Zelus and my niece, Aira, are destined for each other. Please, guide them together."

Inside the workshop, Aira stood motionless as Zelus put the finishing touches on her likeness. When he was done, he waved her over to admire it. Aira’s eyes filled with joyful tears as she gazed upon her image. Turning to Zelus, she signed, “Thank you.”

He smiled, taking her hand and kissing it gently. Then, with a look of anticipation, he asked her if she would read one of her poems to him. She nodded, holding back happy tears, and began to read:

“Zelus, when I look at you, my heart flutters. I dream of you often, and I pray to the Divine Ancient that if we are meant to be, we’ll be brought together. My dear Zelus, my heart is yours, willingly and freely.”

Zelus smiled, tears welling up as he signed to her, “Your words are beautiful. How could I have been so blind to your feelings?”

Aira gently took his hands, shaking her head. “Never call yourself a fool. You are anything but,” she signed, her gaze tender.

With a smile, Zelus pulled her into his arms, and their lips met in a gentle, heartfelt kiss.

A few days later, Zelus and Aira arrived at the exhibit hall only to find many of his sculptures damaged. Distressed, Zelus asked Omar what had happened and who was responsible. Omar signed to him with sorrow in his eyes, “It was Daphis. Out of jealousy, she snuck in last night and destroyed your sculptures because you chose Aira over her.”

Zelus signed to Omar, expressing his confusion. Why would Daphis destroy my sculptures out of jealousy after speaking so harshly about me? Omar replied that Daphis, spoiled and entitled, could not bear to be dismissed. Just then, her father entered, his face filled with remorse.

“Zelus, please forgive my daughter’s actions,” he said. “I’ve sent her to live with her aunt, who will not tolerate her spoiled behavior. I’m prepared to pay whatever reparations you need.”

Omar translated as Zelus responded in hand language, “All I ask is to continue displaying my work here. I’ve created new pieces inspired by my beloved Aira.”

Daphis’ father smiled warmly. “Of course, you may continue to exhibit your sculptures here. And, if you allow it, I’d like to offer you a generous stipend and act as your promoter.”

Zelus nodded, his face breaking into a smile.

Daphis’ father then turned to Aira with a kind smile. “The Divine Ancient has answered your prayers. I knew He would.”

Aira smiled back. “Yes, He truly has.”

In time, Aira and Zelus were married. Zelus’s art gained widespread acclaim, bringing him wealth, and he and Daphis’ father became close friends. Aira’s writing also gained renown, her poems and reflections captivating and inspiring others.

Every night, before they slept, Aira and Zelus would share a silent prayer to the Divine Ancient, grateful for their love and blessings. In a quiet gaze, they would say to each other, I love you.

As Estara concluded the story, the gathered servants applauded. She smiled, setting her book aside, and stood to give a graceful bow.

“Thank you all. I truly enjoy writing my stories, and it’s a blessing to share them with you,” Estara said warmly.

“Lady Estara, do you write only stories?” one servant asked.

“No, I also write compositions—reflections on my hopes, dreams, and prayers to the Divine Ancient,” she replied. “Writing helps me understand myself and deepens my spiritual growth.”

The servant beamed at her. “There’s a light within you that words can’t capture. I feel you’re destined for something remarkable.”

Estara nodded gently. “I feel blessed as I am. Whatever the Divine Ancient has planned, I accept it wholeheartedly, trusting in His guidance.”

“You’re truly a spiritual person, Lady Estara,” another servant added with admiration.

“Thank you,” Estara said, her smile warm and gracious.

“Now, it’s time for everyone to return to their duties,” Amonis announced gently.

The servants nodded, rising from their seats and leaving the parlor, many of them murmuring about Estara’s story and how much it had moved them. As they departed, Xanathus walked over to Estara and extended his hand. She accepted it, and they stood face to face, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Taking this as a sign that the couple wanted some privacy, Amonis and Zafina quietly excused themselves.

“Shall I keep your book safe for you, Estara?” Zafina asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes, please,” Estara replied.

With a nod, Zafina took the book, and she and Amonis slipped out, leaving Xanathus and Estara alone.

Estara stood before Xanathus, her heart racing as a charged silence filled the air, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves outside.

“What shall we do, my lord?” Estara finally whispered, her voice tender.

Xanathus’ gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes filled with a depth of affection that made her heart skip. “I only want to stand here, losing myself in your eyes,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

A gentle smile curved Estara’s lips. “It’s the same for me, my Lion Heart,” she admitted softly.

He drew her into his embrace, their bodies fitting together as though they were made for each other. Their kiss was deep and passionate, conveying everything words could not. When they finally broke apart, their eyes remained locked, sharing a silent, intimate conversation.

“Marry me, Estara. Be my queen,” Xanathus said at last, his voice thick with feeling.

Estara’s breath caught, her heart pounding as she felt the weight of his words. “My lord... I—I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

Xanathus looked at her with quiet intensity. “Say yes, my Lovely Gem. You’ve brought light to my life, you’ve helped me see that as king, I must serve the people of Qidrese first. You’ve deepened my faith and brought out the best in me. I can’t imagine a life without you.”

Tears filled Estara’s eyes. “My lord, I…” she began, her voice choked with emotion.

“Please, Estara,” he interjected, his voice pleading. “Do not say you’re unworthy. There is no one else I wish to stand beside me. If you refuse, my heart... it will break.”

His words resonated deeply within her. She gazed into his eyes, seeing in them the same love and vulnerability that she felt. She thought of the joy he had brought her, the way he had encouraged her spirit, and his unwavering support. A smile bloomed on her face.

“Yes, my Lion Heart,” she replied. “I will marry you.”

A radiant smile lit up Xanathus’ face as he pulled her into another passionate kiss.

From the shadows, a spy watched them, murmuring to themselves, “The King has chosen his queen, and together they shall rule Qidrese with love, fairness, kindness, generosity, and faith.”

♦♦♦♦
In another wing of the palace, Vizier Zacarias sat in his chambers, the door left intentionally open. He was resolute—he would not allow Viziers Mael, Semyazza, and Najoth to disgrace Estara with their usual underhanded tactics. He’d never agreed with their schemes, which seemed only to breed chaos. No, if he were to distance Estara from the king, he felt his own approach would be more effective.

“I’ll befriend her,” Zacarias muttered to himself. “Once I gain her trust, I’ll subtly lead her toward actions that I know would displease the king. She’ll realize she’s overstepped, and the courtship will end by her own decision.”

Just then, he heard footsteps outside his door. He looked up to see an unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

“Excuse me, are you lost?” Vizier Zacarias asked, eyebrows raised.

The man shook his head. “No, I am precisely where I need to be,” he replied calmly, stepping into the room and placing a hand on Zacarias’ shoulder.

“You will take a long, hard look at what it is about Estara Nibban that you find so threatening,” the man said, and a gentle, radiant glow enveloped them both.

When the light faded, the stranger turned and quietly exited the room.

Zacarias blinked, then slowly sat at his desk, deep in thought. “Estara Nibban… what do I really know about her? She’s kind, intelligent… she’s inspired the king toward good.” His voice softened as he reflected further. “Why am I so threatened by her?”

As he pondered, a profound realization dawned on him: Estara posed no true threat to him or to Qidrese. The only thing she threatened was his own ambition—an ambition that did not align with the king’s vision. Overcome with emotion, Zacarias reached for a piece of parchment. Dipping his quill into ink, he began to write, each word a release of his misplaced envy.

Meanwhile, the mysterious man roamed the palace halls. With a serene smile, he greeted many, offering, “May the Divine Ancient bless you.” Some smiled warmly in return, expressing gratitude or repeating the phrase. Others glanced at him with suspicion, some even jeering or calling him a fool. Eventually, he approached Zafina and Amonis.

“May the Divine Ancient bless you,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

“Thank you,” Amonis replied, smiling. “And may you be blessed by the Divine Ancient as well.”

The man gave a gentle nod and continued on his way.

“There’s something familiar about him,” Zafina murmured, watching him leave.

“Familiar?” Amonis echoed, intrigued.

“Yes, but I can’t place where I might have seen him before,” she replied thoughtfully.

“He might be one of the many wandering followers of the Divine Ancient. Lately, quite a few have been seen around the palace grounds. Most of the servants enjoy their company and see to it they’re fed,” Amonis remarked.

“Perhaps, but I do feel as if I have seen him before” said Zafina.

♦♦♦♦

Late at night, Viziers Mael, Semyazza, and Najoth gathered in their hidden meeting place.

“What do you mean the plan failed?” demanded Vizier Mael, irritation flickering in his eyes.

“Our servants carried out our instructions, but each one returned saying they could not, in good conscience, complete the task. They fell to their knees, asking the Divine Ancient for forgiveness,” Vizier Najoth explained, shaking his head in disbelief.

Vizier Mael raised an eyebrow, baffled. “The Divine Ancient? What does that have to do with them refusing our orders?”

“We don’t know. We’re simply telling you what happened,” Vizier Semyazza replied.

“Fools, all of them!” Mael spat. “If they lack the will, I’ll handle it myself. We must sever this woman’s influence over the king.”

“Very well,” said Najoth, with Semyazza nodding in agreement.

They each slipped out of the secret chamber, going in different directions. But before Najoth had gone far, he encountered the strange man who had been seen roaming the palace.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Najoth asked, narrowing his eyes.

The man regarded him calmly. “It’s simple…why do you seek to undermine the king? He has grown into his role. Why does that not bring you happiness?”

“What nonsense are you speaking?” Najoth shot back defensively.

“This is no nonsense,” the man replied smoothly. “I’m asking why, Vizier Najoth, you’re so willing to destroy the happiness of the king and weaken his rule. Is it not enough that he governs Qidrese with strength and wisdom? Or is it that your ambition is to rule the world, using the king as your pawn?”

Vizier Najoth stiffened, his face flushed with offense. “I am appalled! I serve only in the interest of our king and for the prosperity of Qidrese,” he retorted indignantly.

“Did the king not show you and the other Viziers the wonders of Qidrese at the celebration he held for the people?” the strange man asked, his voice steady.

“You’re mad!” spat Vizier Najoth, turning to leave. But the strange man caught his arm, holding him firmly. Najoth shot him a glare.

“You care nothing for the king or Qidrese,” the man continued. “You seek only to manipulate the king to fulfill your ambitions. If ruling the world is your desire, why not take the throne yourself? Or are you too much of a coward, knowing it would be far more than you could manage?”

Stunned into silence, Najoth stood still as the man released his grip and walked away. The words echoed in his mind, unraveling his confidence. When he finally returned to his chambers, he sank into his chair and, overcome with emotion, wept.

♦♦♦♦

The crisp morning air rang with the sharp clash of steel as Xanathus and Amonis sparred in the courtyard, their swords moving in a precise, graceful rhythm. Each parry and thrust reflected the skill and respect they held for each other as combatants. Sweat trickled down their brows, and the intense focus was palpable.

Their training was interrupted by a servant who approached hesitantly, his gaze flicking nervously between the two men.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, Lord Amonis. I have letters from Viziers Zacarias and Najoth, with urgent instructions to deliver them to you, Your Majesty,” the servant announced, bowing as he extended the letters.

Xanathus took the letters, broke the seal on one, and began to read. His brow furrowed as he absorbed the words.

“What does it say?” asked Amonis, sensing the shift in Xanathus’s expression.

Xanathus read aloud:

“Your Majesty, it is with deep remorse that I must confess everything to you. We Viziers—Najoth, Semyazza, Zacarias, and Mael—have been conspiring against Lady Estara. We were threatened by the positive changes she inspired in you: encouraging you to engage with the citizens, to govern with wisdom over conquest. Her influence brought much to Qidrese—far more than expansion by force ever could.

For my part, I joined Viziers Mael and Semyazza in a plot to spread a rumor questioning Estara’s purity, hoping to provoke her into a response that would bring shame upon herself and, by extension, upon you. The plan was that her disgrace would lead you to cast her aside, allowing us to refocus on ambitions of conquest.

I ask for forgiveness, Your Majesty, though I know I am unworthy. I have already departed the palace, for I am no longer fit to serve as your Vizier. I wish you and Lady Estara every blessing, should you choose her as your queen. In my newfound clarity, I see that she would be a most worthy consort.

Sincerely, Vizier Najoth.”

Xanathus looked up, his face a mix of anger and sorrow, the letter trembling slightly in his hand.

Amonis's voice crackled with vindicated fury. “I knew it! I knew those four were plotting something underhanded. Not once did I ever trust them.” His words cast a shadow over open courtyard heavy with a long-buried suspicion and lingering resentment. This wasn’t a fleeting anger; it was a confirmation of years of mistrust and frustration.

“My father trusted them, though,” Xanathus replied quietly, his jaw tense as he unfolded the second letter.

The message contained much the same, but with a twist—Vizier Zacarias revealed that he had opposed the plan to spread rumors about Estara. Instead, he’d sought to undermine her by coaxing her into royal duties, hoping she would overstep her bounds and ultimately ruin herself. The subtle manipulation seethed within Xanathus as he read, each line intensifying his anger.

“What now?” Amonis asked, his tone edged with anticipation.

“Send for Viziers Semyazza and Mael. I intend to confront them,” Xanathus replied, his voice cold and decisive.

Amonis bowed deeply. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

♦♦♦♦
In the grand, gilded throne room, Viziers Mael and Semyazza stood rigidly before King Xanathus. Though they maintained a stoic posture, tension was palpable in their shallow breaths and clenched hands. Despite their best efforts to appear impassive, their hearts thundered with dread as the weight of the king’s gaze bore down upon them. They could feel the gravity of their situation, like a storm building overhead.

Xanathus’s command echoed through the chamber, each word laced with a silent threat. The mention of the letters from Zacarias and Najoth sent a chill down their spines, and the slightest tremor betrayed their outward composure.

Leaning forward on his throne, Xanathus spoke with quiet menace. “Will you confess the truth, or must I employ more persuasive measures?”

“Your Majesty, please,” Vizier Mael stammered, attempting to mask his fear. “We never intended any harm. We were thinking only of what’s best for Qidrese—its progress and strength.”

“And tell me,” Xanathus replied, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, “is Qidrese so lacking that it requires conquest to thrive? I have seen with my own eyes the talent and innovation within our borders. Every day, merchant ships arrive, bringing not just goods, but knowledge from across the seas. Scholars, artists, mathematicians—they all come to Qidrese. So tell me, how is this nation unworthy of advancement on its own?”

Vizier Semyazza swallowed, his voice trembling slightly as he replied, “Your Majesty, we believed you might wish to expand Qidrese—to bring other lands under its rule. For Qidrese to rise as an empire.”

“What need have I of an empire when Qidrese alone is more than enough?” Xanathus replied calmly.

Viziers Mael and Semyazza were taken aback, stunned into silence.

“But, Your Majesty,” Vizier Mael ventured after a pause, “it was your father’s wish for Qidrese to become an empire. Upon his death, you promised to fulfill that vision.”

Xanathus fell silent, considering the weight of his father’s ambitions and his own path forward.

While he pondered, Amonis closed his eyes in silent prayer to the Divine Ancient, hoping Xanathus would remember he was not bound to his father’s dreams. He prayed that Xanathus would see that he was his own man. After a moment, Xanathus rose from the throne, his resolve clear.

“What you say is true,” he began, “but I am not my father. His ambitions are not mine. My duty and my desires are to see Qidrese grow and prosper—not through conquest, but through unity and wisdom.”

“Would it not grow even greater if we conquered other lands?” Vizier Semyazza pressed.

“Why must we conquer?” Xanathus countered. “Why not establish alliances? Would not a network of allies be far more beneficial than a patchwork of resentful, conquered lands?”

Vizier Semyazza gave a reluctant nod. “Yes, Your Majesty, alliances can be powerful… but they are fragile. They can be broken.”

“And conquered people will always resist,” Amonis interjected.

The viziers turned to Amonis, startled by his boldness.

“What could you possibly know about that?” Vizier Mael snapped.

“Only that free people will not remain subjugated by others,” Amonis replied, his gaze steady.

“You overstep, High Guard!” Vizier Mael retorted sharply.

“No—let him speak,” Xanathus commanded.

This surprised both viziers. Amonis bowed briefly to the king. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said before addressing Mael and Semyazza.

Amonis’s tone was skeptical but measured. “You speak of Qidrese’s greatness, yet you advocate for an empire that stretches beyond our borders, drawn by ambition more than true need. While His Majesty might consider such dreams, building an empire takes generations—a task far larger than you might imagine. Are either of you certain you’ll live to see even the beginning of such an undertaking?”

“Are you threatening us?” Vizier Mael snapped, misinterpreting Amonis’s words.

“Let me clarify,” Amonis interjected. “My words carry no threat, only a question grounded in reason. Both of you, along with Zacarias and Najoth, are men in your later years, while the king stands at the beginning of his reign. Should Qidrese ever rise to an empire, it's highly probable that you would not live to witness it. Why, then, should His Majesty be bound to fulfill the ambitions of his late father—and yours—if even you may not be there to see them realized?”

Mael and Semyazza were left silent, taken aback.

Xanathus, absorbing Amonis’s words, found profound truth in them. “The ambitions of my father, and yours, do not dictate my path,” he declared. “My duty is to the best interests of Qidrese. Conquest is not my goal; alliances are. I envision Qidrese as a symbol of strength and culture, a beacon of knowledge and learning. I have seen the potential of our people. I propose a plan to journey to other lands, not to subjugate, but to learn. They shall remain independent, enriching us through mutual exchange.”

Mael and Semyazza’s disappointment was palpable. All their plans—their months of plotting, their amassed funds for campaigns—were now useless. But one last idea lingered.

“Your Majesty,” Mael ventured, “do you truly intend to marry Estara?”

“Yes,” Xanathus replied without hesitation.

“Then may I suggest, Your Majesty,” Mael continued, “that before you do, her virginity be confirmed.”

Amonis recoiled at Mael’s suggestion, his voice sharp with disbelief. “Why subject Estara to such a demeaning test? Has she given any reason to warrant such an intrusion?”

Unmoved, Mael replied, “If she is to be queen, her virtue must be beyond reproach. How better to assure that than through a test?”

Xanathus, his heart heavy, nodded reluctantly. “Much as it pains me, Mael speaks the truth. Despite my love for Estara, her virtue must be verified.”

Amonis, his eyes flashing with defiance, offered, “If a test is deemed necessary, let it be conducted by someone impartial. Someone who knows neither of us, yet possesses an honesty that compels them to speak only the truth.”

Xanathus considered this, then nodded as he returned to his throne. “Yes, let it be so. Find one who walks a path apart from ours, a soul guided by unwavering truthfulness.”

Amonis bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

But Semyazza quickly interjected, “Your Majesty, you ask for someone unknown to us, yet you trust the High Guard with this task. How can we be certain he won’t choose someone he knows, someone he might sway?”

Amonis met Semyazza’s gaze with calm resolve. “The same risk could be said of you and Vizier Mael.”

A deep voice suddenly echoed through the chamber. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

All eyes turned, and from the shadows emerged a tall, elderly figure. His long, dark brown hair, streaked with silver, flowed past his shoulders, and his beard mirrored the same aged wisdom. Dressed simply in a light blue robe, brown trousers, and sandals, his tanned skin contrasted with the striking gray-brown depth of his eyes.

“Who are you?” Xanathus demanded, startled by the unexpected presence.

The man inclined his head respectfully. “I am a humble servant of the Divine Ancient. An unseen force led me through the palace, bringing me here at this precise moment. I am an outsider with no prior knowledge of any of you. I offer myself to conduct the test of Estara’s virtue, guided solely by truth.”

Amonis looked at him closely, a faint flicker of recognition stirring within him.

Intrigued, Xanathus asked, “What is your name?”

“Goban,” the man replied.

“Goban, you shall have suitable quarters within the palace. On a designated day, you will conduct the test,” Xanathus decreed.

Goban bowed again. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

Xanathus scanned the room, gauging the response. “Does this solution meet with your approval?”

Amonis and Vizier Semyazza nodded, saying, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Vizier Mael, though wary, inclined his head reluctantly. “It will suffice, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. Amonis, see that Goban is settled comfortably,” Xanathus ordered.

“It shall be done, Your Majesty,” Amonis replied.

With a tone of finality, Xanathus concluded, “This matter is resolved for now. You are all dismissed.”

As they dispersed, Vizier Mael’s gaze lingered on Goban, a sharp suspicion glinting in his eyes. Something about this man—a sense of penetrating awareness—unnerved him deeply. Goban, sensing the scrutiny, turned briefly, his steady gaze meeting Mael’s with a startling clarity, as if he could see right through him. The notion sent a chill through Mael, solidifying his discomfort—Goban was a mystery, an enigma that stirred his unease.

Amonis led Goban to a modest room furnished with a simple bed and two windows.

“This will be your quarters,” Amonis said. “I trust it meets your needs.”

“It is more than sufficient. Thank you,” Goban replied.

Amonis paused, his expression thoughtful. “It's rather fortunate that you stumbled upon our conversation. Quite remarkable, really, that the king didn’t order your immediate capture and imprisonment.”

Goban met his gaze, calm and unwavering. “Perhaps the Divine Ancient has other plans for me. Perhaps he stayed the king's mind for reasons unseen.”

Amonis pondered this. He recalled how Zafina often spoke of the Divine Ancient's quiet interventions, like guiding a thought or obscuring an offense from memory. Goban’s observation struck a chord, and Amonis offered a silent prayer of gratitude for the Divine Ancient's unseen hand.

After bidding Goban goodnight, Amonis closed the door, leaving him alone. Goban moved to the window and knelt, his posture one of reverence. “Divine Ancient," he murmured with quiet conviction, "I stand in obedience to your will. Guide my actions as I fulfill the task you have set before me.”

Just then, a sharp knock broke the silence. Goban paused, surprised. Who would seek him at this late hour? Rising slowly, he walked to the door, hesitating for a brief moment before opening it. Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Vizier Mael.

“What can I do for you?” Goban asked.

Without a word, Mael extended his hand, revealing five silver dadnes and seven gold dadnes.

Goban raised an eyebrow. "And what is this?"

“Surely you're not foolish enough to need an explanation,” Mael replied with a smug grin.

Goban’s gaze grew cold. “Why would you seek to bribe me?”

Mael shrugged. “I simply wish to ensure the king’s beloved is… what I believe her to be.”

Goban’s voice dripped with contempt. “Is that truly why you sought me out? To indulge your morbid curiosity? Do you crave this knowledge for gossip, or do you think your coin can sway me to defame her virtue or fabricate lies?”

Mael’s lips twisted in a smug sneer. “Either is fine by me.”

Goban’s expression hardened. “Let me be perfectly clear, Vizier. Only the truth will pass my lips. Whatever the king’s beloved reveals to me, the king shall hear, unblemished and unyielding. I was entrusted with this duty by the king himself, and nothing you offer will alter my resolve.”

A faint smile played on Vizier Mael’s lips. “Good sir, even the truth has a price. With enough gold, even the most steadfast principles can be swayed.”

Goban chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “If truth were so easily bought, then those of us who stand by it, with nothing to gain but the satisfaction of integrity, would indeed be destitute. We may walk alone, but we walk with the Divine Ancient watching over us, with truth as our companion. And that, sir, is wealth beyond your understanding.”

Mael’s smile faltered. Uneasily, he withdrew his hand.

“My offer will remain, should you reconsider,” he said, his tone forced.

“So confident in your words, yet your eyes betray you,” Goban observed calmly. “You may speak of gold and conviction, but I see unease flickering in your gaze, Vizier. My presence unsettles you, doesn’t it?”

The Vizier’s eyes widened, his composure breaking under Goban’s steady scrutiny. He muttered an excuse and hastily retreated down the hall, his footsteps echoing through the silence—a retreat that spoke volumes.

Goban closed the door, returning to his window. Lifting his hands, he offered a silent prayer. “Divine Ancient,” he murmured, “this palace is riddled with treachery, a serpent coiled around the heart of the kingdom. I humbly beseech you, let the truth be brought to light, so that peace may finally find its way back into these halls.”

Chapter VII

A summons from the King reached Estara, carrying an urgency that was unmistakable. Without delay, she hurried to the palace, her heart a delicate blend of anticipation and unease. Ushered into the throne room, she found herself standing before Xanathus, her beloved, whose gaze held both love and a trace of worry.

“You sent for me, my love?” she asked, her voice soft but unwavering.

“Yes, Estara,” Xanathus replied, his tone warm yet cautious. “As you know, the court and the kingdom alike are abuzz with joy for our coming union. Many celebrate the happiness we’ve found together.”

Estara sensed a tension beneath his words. “And yet,” she ventured, “it seems there is something weighing on you, a shadow upon this happiness.”

Xanathus exhaled, his brow furrowing. “There is. The Viziers, asserting their duty to the kingdom, have raised a question that must be addressed. They ask if you have known the touch of another.”

Estara met his gaze steadily, her eyes clear and unwavering. “There have been those who sought to exploit my innocence, to sway me with empty promises and base desires. They wished to claim a prize they would flaunt as conquest. But none succeeded. My mother, my godparents, and Zafina guided me with their wisdom and vigilance. And when temptation arose, I heeded the whispers of my own intuition, a gift from the Divine Ancient. So, with all certainty, I declare to you, my Lion Heart, no man has ever laid a hand upon me.”

Xanathus studied her face, his expression softening with each word. “Would you be willing to undergo a test, conducted by one with no agenda but the pursuit of truth?”

Estara lifted her chin, her voice steady. “Yes, I would. Not just to prove my innocence to you, but to silence the venomous whispers of those who doubt my virtue.”

Xanathus was taken aback by her words.

“Yes, my Lion Heart,” she continued, a tremor of vulnerability in her tone. “I know well of your Viziers' disapproval. They resent my influence, that I encourage you to follow your heart and listen to your people. My support of your devotion to the Divine Ancient is another thorn in their side. Because of this, they despise me. But their opinions mean nothing to me. The only voices I heed, beyond the Divine Ancient’s, are my mother’s, my godparents’, Zafina’s, Amonis’s, and most of all... yours.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, glistening in the soft lamplight.

Xanathus felt guilt ripple through him. He had allowed the Viziers' insidious doubts to cloud his thoughts, despite the months of honesty and love that Estara had shown him. She had shared her dreams, listened to his, and had only ever supported him. Shamefaced, he reached out to gently brush her tears away.

“Forgive me, my Lovely Gem,” he murmured, his voice thick with remorse.

Estara gave him a gentle, sad smile. “My love, I am not angry with you,” she said. “My frustration lies with those who try to control you, hoping to mold you into your father’s image. But I bear them no ill will. Their fate rests in the hands of the Divine Ancient.”

Xanathus looked into her eyes, a newfound resolve hardening his expression. He wrapped her in a warm embrace. “My Estara, my Lovely Gem,” he whispered, “you need not take any test. I trust you completely, with every part of my soul.”

But Estara remained resolute. “If I refuse,” she replied, “your Viziers will only find new ways to undermine me, hoping to drive a wedge between us. So, I will take the test. But I have one request.”

“Name it,” Xanathus answered without hesitation.

“I want your Viziers present during the test,” Estara declared, her voice unwavering despite the tremor in her hands. “And I want you to watch their reactions—from the shadows.”

Xanathus considered her request, seeing the depth of her resolve. He nodded, understanding her desire to confront her detractors directly, to safeguard their future together. He would honor her wish, for he knew with absolute certainty that Estara’s purity and faith were beyond reproach.

The day of the test arrived, heavy with anticipation. Estara sat alone in a dimly lit chamber, her heart drumming in her chest. Soon, the door creaked open, and a man entered with calm, measured steps. He carried an air of quiet authority, his gaze steady and penetrating. Estara felt a strange familiarity about him, though his face was unknown to her. Settling across from her, he held her gaze, his expression both serious and gentle.

“Estara,” he began, his voice a deep, even rumble, “I am Goban, entrusted to seek the truth.”

Estara gave a nod. “Very well.”

Just then, the Viziers, Mael and Semyazza, entered the room, their faces betraying curiosity and suspicion. The king’s command to witness the test had unsettled them; such a matter was usually held in private. Despite their scrutinizing presence, Estara remained calm, her gaze firm—a silent but defiant resolve flickering in her eyes. Goban, too, appeared unruffled by the Viziers’ arrival, his focus unwavering.

“The Viziers are here… let us begin,” Goban said quietly.

“Proceed,” Estara replied.

He began, his questions respectful yet pointed. “Tell me, when was your last cycle?”

“Two weeks ago,” she answered.

“Has any man touched you in ways reserved for marriage?”

“No, never,” Estara replied steadily.

“And have you ever lain with another before this courtship?”

“I have not,” she affirmed.

As the questioning continued, Goban’s inquiries grew more probing, each one answered by Estara with unwavering honesty and grace. Finally, he arrived at the final question—a question that hung in the air like a poised dagger.

“Lastly, Estara,” he stated, his tone even and impassive, “if I were to ask you to demonstrate your physical purity, would you comply?”

Estara held his gaze, her chin lifted in quiet defiance. “I would,” she replied, “but in doing so, I would be compromising myself, regardless of the outcome. To refuse would invite suspicion; to comply would imply that my virtue is available for proof upon any man’s request, as though purity is something so easily put on display.”

From behind a hidden curtain, Xanathus and Amonis observed the Viziers, their expressions tense and watchful. A dawning realization crossed Xanathus’s face as he noted the glint in the Viziers’ eyes—a gleam not of concern, but of eagerness, as though they hoped to see her humiliated. It was an unspoken betrayal, a cruel satisfaction cloaked in the guise of duty.

“Your Majesty,” Amonis murmured, his voice barely more than a breath, “even I, unskilled in the ways of courtly deceit, can see through their charade. If Estara complies, they will twist her actions into a scandal, calling it shameless exhibition. Their goal is to humiliate her—and by extension, you. Their loyalty lies not with you or Qidrese, but with their own ambition and thirst for control.”

Xanathus closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer. He knew the truth, and the words weighed heavy on his heart.

“Forgive me, my lady… this cannot be delayed any longer,” Goban said softly.

“I understand,” Estara whispered, her voice breaking as tears began to well up, yet she rose, ready to face the ordeal.

As she prepared herself for the humiliation, Viziers Mael and Semyazza moved closer, their expressions a twisted blend of morbid anticipation and barely veiled satisfaction. Hot tears streaked down Estara's cheeks, her emotions a tempest of sorrow, anger, and fear. She felt as though she were on the brink of a public shaming meant to sever her from Xanathus’s heart. The Viziers' presence was a visceral reminder of the malice in the room, their cruelty all too apparent.

Xanathus could bear it no longer. With a thunderous shout, he stepped forward, his voice reverberating through the chamber. “I DARE YOU TO TAKE ANOTHER STEP!”

Mael and Semyazza spun around, faces blanched with shock as they met the furious gaze of their king. Xanathus crossed the room, pulling Estara into a fierce, protective embrace.

“I see it all now,” he declared, his voice low but charged with fury. “I see the truth."

Semyazza tried to salvage his composure. “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he stammered. "Now you see—”

“Yes,” Xanathus cut him off, his tone icy. "I see that you sought to disgrace Estara before my very eyes. You aimed to twist my trust, to deceive me into casting her aside based on the lies you would have crafted had I not been here to witness your vile intentions. You were willing to violate her dignity to achieve this.”

Semyazza’s mouth opened, but a single roar from Xanathus silenced him. “Enough! Not another word.”

His gaze sharp and unforgiving. “You are despicable—unworthy of the titles you hold. Your loyalty is not to this kingdom or to me, but to your own corrupt ambitions.”

Mael dared to speak, his voice laced with barely contained desperation. “Your Majesty… why are you here?” he asked, his tone almost a plea.

Xanathus released Estara from his embrace and stepped forward, his presence a wall of iron. "Do not insult my intelligence with that question, Mael," he replied, his tone chillingly calm. “But since you ask, I will tell you. I am here because Estara, knowing full well what she might face, asked me to be present. I am here because she has the courage to stand before you and submit to this injustice only to prove her loyalty to me.”

Mael’s lips curled into a sneer, the last shred of defiance flickering. "And did it never occur to you, Your Majesty, that perhaps she is simply a woman of—shall we say—unrestrained appetites?".

Xanathus's gaze turned glacial. “Tell me, Vizier Mael,” he said, his voice laced with icy disdain, “why should my beloved’s desires be of any interest to you? And even more, why are you the one raising such a question? I have never shared such matters with you or any other Vizier. Perhaps it is your own prurient curiosity that drives you—a need to imagine what her desires might be?”

The words hit Mael like a slap, the smirk vanishing from his face as his bravado crumbled. He staggered back, eyes dropping in shame, his defiance extinguished.

“The truth has come to light,” Xanathus announced, his voice resolute. “You are both dismissed from the palace—permanently. Gather your things and go, or I’ll see you dragged out with nothing but the clothes on your backs.”

Semyazza and Mael exchanged a look, bitterness etched into their expressions. Defeated, they knew they’d been unmasked, and any attempt at retaliation would lead to swift consequences. Lacking the courage to face the king’s wrath, they retreated, their faces pale with fear.

Following their departure, Xanathus enacted a new decree: No untrue or slanderous words would be tolerated, whether spoken about the king, the court, or any citizen. Anyone daring to make such claims would be required to provide undeniable proof or face severe repercussions. It wasn’t long before people learned to hold their tongues, keeping envy and malice buried beneath a cloak of silence.

♦♦♦♦
Two weeks passed in a joyful blur of wedding preparations, and the kingdom of Qidrese buzzed with excitement for the impending union of Xanathus and Estara. Estara and her mother had settled into the palace, their presence filling the once-stoic halls with warmth and laughter.

That night, Xanathus lay awake, his heart racing with anticipation. Restless, he slipped out of his bedchamber and wandered to the library, seeking distraction among the shelves. As he sorted through ancient scrolls and tomes, his eyes fell upon a document partially hidden in a stack. Bearing his late father’s seal, its secrecy piqued his curiosity. Carefully, Xanathus unrolled it and began to read:

To whom it may concern,

I, King Ariakan Girrah of Qidrese, have this confession to make upon my deathbed. I have committed many sins, and what I am about to reveal may be counted as one.

I have not one son, but two. My lesser son, however, cannot inherit the throne, for he is not of noble blood. His mother was but a garment maker I took a fancy to. She passed while he was young, and with nowhere else to go, I took him in. Against the advisement of myself and my Viziers—Semyazza, Mael, Najoth, and Zacarias—I placed him in the army.

He grew into a fine soldier, and to my surprise, he and Xanathus became close, as if brothers. This bond concerns me, even now on my deathbed. If anyone reads this, know that Amonis Badacia must never inherit the throne; it rightfully belongs to my legitimate son, Xanathus.

I hope neither of them ever learn this truth, for it would ruin Qidrese. And may Xanathus see to my vision for the kingdom’s expansion, for his ideals are childish. He must grow into a man.

This is my confession, and I instruct that it be burned. Let it die here.

King Ariakan Girrah, Sovereign of Qidrese

The words seared into Xanathus’s mind, each revelation confirming suspicions he’d harbored about his father’s ruthless nature. The scroll laid bare the depths of Ariakan’s cruelty and selfishness, reaching far beyond what Xanathus had imagined.

A cold fury took root in his heart, mingling with sorrow and disillusionment. As he closed his eyes, Xanathus felt a steely resolve harden within him. This wasn’t simply about uncovering his father’s truth; it was about confronting the injustice he’d inflicted on Amonis and reclaiming the throne for a just cause. His mind settled on a choice that would alter his life’s course—a choice he knew his father would have condemned. But for the first time, Xanathus was unmoved by the shadow of his father’s judgment. He had a duty to uphold his kingdom's honor and his own.

At dawn, sunlight poured through the council room’s windows, casting golden light across the stone walls. Amonis entered, his expression bearing the weight of Xanathus's urgent summons. He bowed. “You called for me, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, Amonis. I have two matters to discuss,” Xanathus replied, his voice strong but gentle. “First, as of today, you are not only my High Guard but my sole Vizier. And I hereby bestow upon you the title of Prince.”

Amonis’s breath caught as he absorbed the gravity of this declaration. He managed a humble, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Xanathus nodded. “Second, last night in the library, I found a scroll. I’d like you to read it.” He handed the aged document to Amonis, watching as his friend unfolded it with a trembling hand.

As Amonis read, his face shifted from shock to disbelief, each word answering questions he’d long held silent. When he finally looked up, there was a glimmer of understanding—and a new kinship—in his gaze.

“So, we are brothers,” Amonis murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, we are,” Xanathus affirmed, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? The bond we’ve always shared, the way we think alike… even the resemblance.”

Amonis felt a surge of emotion as tears welled up. “I confess, I always had a feeling. Something about us felt… too close. And this letter from our father,” he choked, the tears spilling over, “it confirms everything.”

Xanathus held his gaze, his own eyes shining. “Amonis, know that your title as Prince is not out of duty. You have earned it. Your loyalty and honesty are unmatched, and I am proud to call you not just my Vizier, but my brother.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Unable to contain his emotions, Amonis reached out, pulling Xanathus into a tight embrace. Tears flowed freely between them, a silent acknowledgment of the truth revealed and the bond strengthened. Under the warm morning sun, they were not just King and Vizier—they were brothers, bound by blood and choice.

Later that day, Amonis gazed at Zafina, an unspoken question in his eyes. “You knew?” he finally asked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice.

Zafina smiled knowingly. “Remember, love,” she said gently, “I am gifted. There are things the Divine Ancient reveals to me.”

Amonis chuckled, the tension melting from his shoulders. He pulled Zafina into a warm embrace. “I’m happy,” he confessed. “Not because of the title, but because I finally know the truth—and because Xanathus fully accepts me.”

Zafina leaned into him, her voice a soft murmur. “My parents say that if your father were alive, he would be furious with Xanathus for this. He would never forgive him.”

Amonis sighed, absorbing the weight of her words. “I know… and that is truly a tragedy. But Xanathus did the right thing. He and I are not our father, and we won’t walk his path.”

Zafina looked up, her eyes filled with steady reassurance. “I know,” she replied simply, her smile reflecting a depth of understanding. In that shared moment, they acknowledged the challenges ahead, yet found comfort in the truth finally unveiled—a truth that had drawn the brothers closer together, forging a bond unbreakable by any resentment or lingering shadows of the past.

♦♦♦♦♦
The day dawned bright and clear, the perfect backdrop for the wedding of Estara and Xanathus. The kingdom of Qidrese thrummed with excitement; the air was thick with anticipation and a hint of nervous energy. Invitations had been sent far and wide—except to one person: Estara’s aunt, Athala. A formal message from the palace made it clear that her presence was not welcome and any attempt to intrude would lead to her immediate imprisonment in the palace dungeons. Athala, predictably, was outraged, though those familiar with her temperament held little sympathy for her.

Inside the palace, Estara stood before a mirror in a gown of shimmering white, while Zafina, her mother, and her godmother bustled around her, adding finishing touches. A wave of sadness washed over her as she thought of her late father, Vidar, whose absence was a hollow ache, especially on this important day.

“Estara, are you all right?” Vella, her mother, asked, noticing the tears forming in her daughter’s eyes.

“I’m just thinking of Father,” Estara whispered. “He would have been so proud… he should be here to walk me down the aisle.”

Vella’s own eyes glistened. “I miss him too. He would have been overjoyed to see you so happy.”

Taking a steadying breath, Estara and Vella composed themselves, letting the day’s joy push aside their shared grief. As they stepped into the palace hallway, Estara spotted a familiar figure standing quietly against the wall—Goban, his expression warm and hesitant.

“Mother, Zafina, and Matron Myare, please go on. I want to speak with that man,” Estara said, nodding toward Goban.

“Why?” her mother asked, surprised.

“To thank him for exposing Mael and Semyazza,” Estara replied.

Vella nodded, and the others moved ahead. Estara approached Goban.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“Of course,” Goban replied with a slight smile. “And now, here you are—soon to be Queen.”

Estara studied his face, a sense of familiarity stirring in her. “I feel like I know you… though I can’t quite place it.”

“You do know me,” Goban said softly. “I held you in my arms when you were born.”

The realization struck Estara like a bolt of lightning. “How…?” she asked, her voice catching as tears filled her eyes.

“The Divine Ancient sent me. He knew what awaited you and wanted me here to protect you,” Goban said, his own voice thick with emotion.

Estara embraced him tightly, holding onto the father she’d thought lost.

“Go on, Estara,” he said gently. “Your destiny awaits.”

“Tell Mother… she misses you,” Estara whispered.

“I will,” Goban promised, watching her as she hurried to the courtyard. He smiled softly. “My little Estara, Queen of Qidrese. The Divine Ancient was right: she is stronger than she knows, wiser than others see, and more than worthy to lead.”

Sunlight poured into the courtyard, illuminating the faces of the gathered crowd. Qidrese waited, breaths held, as Xanathus and Estara stood hand in hand, their love radiating outward. The ceremony was woven with heartfelt vows and promises of a brighter future, not just for themselves but for the entire kingdom. Beyond traditional vows, they pledged to foster a society where learning would thrive, love would flourish freely, and faith would guide.

When Xanathus placed the Queen’s crown upon Estara’s head, a reverent hush fell over the crowd. Then, in a voice that resonated with strength and love, Xanathus proclaimed, “Citizens of Qidrese… I present to you, your Queen—Estara Girrah!”

The silence shattered as cheers erupted, echoing through the palace and out into the streets. The air hummed with joy and renewed faith in the future of Qidrese. This was not just a marriage but the dawn of a new era, guided by a King and Queen who embodied the heart of their nation.

Later that night, Estara and Xanathus stood together in his bedchamber, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

“Do you have any more stories to tell, my lovely gem?” Xanathus asked, smiling.

“There are always more stories,” Estara replied, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “But tonight, I have just one—a brief one.”

“Let’s hear it,” Xanathus encouraged.

“A Seraphim was appointed to watch over a widow and her child,” Estara began. “The woman had lost her husband, uncertain if she and her child would survive. But the Seraphim brought food and protection, ensuring the widow always had what she needed. When the child grew up, the Seraphim introduced her to a generous, kind merchant. They fell in love, despite obstacles, and their love never wavered. They married, and on their wedding day, the Seraphim watched with joy as they became husband and wife.”

“And that’s all?” Xanathus asked, intrigued.

“For now,” Estara replied, a soft smile on her lips. “The rest is yet unwritten, as the merchant and his wife begin their life together.”

Xanathus returned her smile. “Then we shall write it together.”

“Indeed, we will,” Estara whispered, and they kissed deeply, under the endless stars.

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