Liam adjusted the turban for what was likely the ninth time, and no sooner had he tucked the last corner of the cloth in than the entire ensemble collapsed. “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath, unspooling the whole thing and starting again. At this point, his arms were starting to get sore from trying to go at it over and over.

Of course, he could’ve called someone to lend a hand, but he wanted to at least get the hang of it himself. “Wrap that over, then under and…” He glanced at the polished piece of metal that served as a mirror, squinting at the slightly blurry reflection. “And I’ve messed it up.” Shoulders slumping, he shook his head. “Guess I’ll call for-”

“Me?” A dark young human girl with mismatched ethnic features peeked into the room from the entrance. “Trying to dress to impress? This Bunny has you covered.” Without asking for permission or waiting for a response, she stepped inside, marching right up to him. “Though maybe you should wear something more… maybe less… um…”

“Cheap?” He leaned his head forward.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it THAT, but um…” Her arms blurred as she took the turban.

Liam shrieked as she yanked a clump of hair. “HEY!”

Bunny flinched. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Her hands were already weaving a healing spell, the glow of the magic easing the pain and removing the damage within seconds. She followed it by slowing down her movements and more carefully folding the turban. “Sorry,” she added one more time, petulantly. “You really should deal with your hair; it’s a mess.”

Liam just wordlessly grumbled at her, waiting for her to finish up. The pain from the hair-pull had vanished as quickly as it had come, but the annoyance still lingered. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, me? Yes, yes, totally alright,” she answered in a hurry. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem distracted.”

Bunny didn’t answer, her hands slowing further, finishing her work and tucking the turban into place. “I’ve been thinking about stuff.”

“Yeah?” He urged her.

“You know. Stuff.” Bunny gave his head a pat. “Just go and enjoy your fancy dinner date.”

“I guess you could call it that,” the words came out with some trepidation.

After Aisha passed out, things had been kind of in a weird place. The burning of her study had brought with it the destruction of a lot of important records, permits, lists, and even a copy of the local census (which apparently was a Very Big Deal). Between that and the ending of the festivities, she’d spent the better part of three days going to the Emir’s palace to finagle for the copies he should have had.

Should.

The Emir was not an organized man, and Aisha was forced to reconstruct much out of half-kept records, copies, and from memory. Meanwhile, Liam had gone through the song and dance of being interrogated by a dozen and a half people under twice that many truth-detection spells and enchantments. It’d been a pain to retell the “technically true but not the whole truth” of how they were attacked by the High Priestess and barely survived the encounter. Meanwhile, Imani had marched straight out of Aisha’s estate and spent her days training near the port.

Liam was not allowed to go see her because he could undo the divine tool's magic.

Yes, it annoyed him.

No, he couldn’t watch from afar, since it just might wear it down anyway.

Maridah herself was enforcing that quarantine.

Speaking of Maridah, the local Weaver’s temple was under attack; it just didn’t know it. With the literal piece of their Goddess gone, they were trying to discreetly evacuate from Doeta, but as with all war, it was during the retreat where one incurred the heaviest losses. Maridah had been going to town on the priests, discreetly jumping them, erasing memories, extracting information, and in one case, converting them to her cause. It’s hard to argue against a God’s presence when the one you follow abandoned you to the wolves.

Unfortunately, this also meant Liam couldn’t just walk the city willy-nilly. Though Maridah’s efforts covered a great deal of things, the core of her goal was to ensure news of Liam’s survival did not reach Thalgrim. At least not anytime soon. Sure, the people of Doeta knew, but the nearest “inhabited” temple of the Weaver was two weeks' travel away.

This invitation from the Emir, to Liam and Aisha specifically, was the first chance to step outside. It had been several long days, with Liam spending every minute practicing with the magic knot-rope.

“Just remember that Wolf will beg for release from her torture, and to that you need to tell her no,” Bunny informed him, tapping his clothes twice and stepping back.

“Any recommendations for Aisha?”

“Bah.” The aspect crossed her arms. “She’s been rude for making everyone wait for an answer.” She glowered. “Mortals would be giving up their left arm for just the chance to be considered for—”

“Come on, I’m serious.” Liam gave her a warning look. “She’ll be ready when she’s ready. I’m on a timer.”

“Just kiss her and call it a day.”

Liam was about to chide her, but she was gone. With a weary sigh, he checked himself in the polished mirror one more time and realized something was different about his clothes. The dark blue tunic had silver embroidery where it had been plain before; it depicted a cloudy sky in an oddly “starry night by Van Gogh” kind of way. He took a moment to glance himself over and grumbled a little before just resigning himself to it. The whole ensemble looked like someone had taken a distinctly “foreign” style and adapted it to the local customs.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

If only the civilization it was built off of still existed…

He’d have to improvise something if anyone asked.

Marching his way out, he immediately spotted Aisha waiting for him near the entrance of her estate. The rich blue silk abaya covered her from head to toe, flowing like a cascade over her body. The cloth itself lacked any fancy embroidery; the Amil had picked a golden waist-chain gilded with precious stones, cinching her figure just enough for Liam’s imagination to run wild with memories from the shared hot-bath.

The woman stood stoically, staring out into the city with an expression lost in thought, a semi-transparent veil covering her mouth and nose. A light ruby pendant rested at the center of her chest, the only other piece of jewelry upon her person. Aisha carefully rubbed at the polished red gemstone, pale henna lines decorating the back of her hands.

A moment passed as Liam took her in, though it was short-lived, as she noticed him, turning to stare with cold green eyes. He couldn’t read her expression too well with only her eyes exposed, the kohl makeup making their intensity almost penetrating, yet there was a moment of apprehension in her posture. “You look nice,” she complimented as soon as he’d stepped closer, tone severe.

“You as well,” he quickly spoke, stopping just shy of reaching her, flashing a smile. “I feel a little silly, if I’m honest.”

Aisha gave the slightest shake of her head. “Don’t be, the Emir will find it exotic.”

Liam wanted to point out that it wasn’t the Emir’s opinion he was concerned about, but it was clear it was exactly what she was worrying over. As Amil, she undoubtedly had a lot of influence in the city, but that didn’t mean she could just freely burn bridges. “How can I help?” he offered.

Caught slightly off guard, Aisha stared blankly his way for a moment.

“I mean…” he continued. “This is important for you, right?”

“Oh.” The coldness in her eyes shifted, the barest hints of a smile present as she stepped closer. “No, it’s not. I was just… distracted. There’s been much on my mind.”

“I guess I haven’t helped in that regard.” Liam grimaced, feeling a little guilty as he offered a hand for her to take.

“No, you haven’t.” Her voice took an amused inflection as she grasped his hand with a bit more tightness than might have been necessary. “It has been hard, these past few days, looking at my work and knowing it could all be made meaningless in a snap.” She was staring ahead as they walked out of her estate, her personal guards quickly taking positions around them.

Liam nodded along, sensing that she wanted to get some things out into the open.

“I’ve built this, you know. I might not have put the bricks, but I built the position I stand upon. I am Amil of Doeta. Here I am powerful.” Aisha spared him a glance. “As much as I like you, Liam, and I do like you, what you’ve proposed to me goes beyond a mere choice. It is to give up that which I’ve made, to start on a new path.” She squeezed his hand emphatically, glancing at his reddening face and freezing. “I-uhm…”

“No, no, I…” He swallowed. “We’re both adults. No sense in…”

“Yes, of course.” She coughed a little. “Just…”

They stared at each other, steps slowing down to a full stop. Liam’s face was burning as he hurried to lean closer before his bravery faltered. Her eyes widened in surprise, then fluttered tightly shut.

The attempted kiss failed, her veil getting in the way.

Realizing his mistake, Liam recoiled a little, now feeling like his face might explode outwards. Aisha’s laughter did not help one bit, tugging his hand up, using it to lift the veil as she pulled him closer for a second kiss, a chaste one.

“I should’ve done this sooner.” He muttered.

“I would’ve let you.” She answered in a conspiratorial whisper that made his ears burn. Quickly, she regained her inertia, pulling him along. “Where was I?”

“Paths?”

“Right.” Taking in a deep breath, Aisha regained her composure instantly. “My choice regarding our mutual friend is made all the harder considering the things I’ve learnt about the fate that awaits this city.”

“Sorry.” was all he could say, painfully aware that Doeta was, in the end, doomed.

One way or the other, either by the hands of gods or the maw of They-Who-Ate-Space, this whole place would be razed to the ground in a few years maximum.

“It is still hard to believe, but it’s also hard to imagine that hard proof of your words will come in a scant few moons.” She continued, looking out to the city. “Fire that will rain from the sky and shake the earth, monsters driven to a frenzy, more aether than even any one nation could ever wield…” Aisha sighed heavily. “The more I think of it, the more I find myself…” She trailed off, sparing him a glance.

“Hesitating?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, then shook her head. “There is an exercise that I’ve found to be useful when making important decisions. I take any information regarding things I believe might occur, and make a list. I then write what my actions would be if that item were to be true. If I believed the value of silk would drastically rise by the end of the month, then I would prepare a proposal for adjusting the taxation scheme.” She slowed down her steps, though didn’t stop, her gaze still lost somewhere her eyes weren’t seeing. “It is what’s allowed me to secure my position, and to be prepared for things to come. It is also what’s allowed me to act without hesitation in many things.”

He took in her words and felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. “What’s your conclusion?”

“My conclusion is that my choices regarding you and my choices regarding our mutual friend should remain entirely separate.”

Liam nodded. “I wholeheartedly agree with that.” It had been roughly his goal from the start, as much as he liked Aisha, it wouldn’t have sat well with him if she had chosen to become Maridah’s Champion exclusively because of their relationship. “I do wonder what your thoughts on the matter are, however.”

She hadn’t told him much about it, though she had pretty much confessed this whole thing was turning her life upside down already. Aisha appeared to be a woman that was built around retaining control of things in some form or another; she was confident, and her showing these hesitations and inner musings felt like something almost intimate.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I-” The thought remained unfinished, Aisha went quiet as she spotted the Emir’s estate. “Perhaps later,” she muttered.

Several of the guards spotted them and hurried inside; by the time they had reached the entrance, a blue volar woman had appeared to greet them. Her wine-red clothes seemed to be made with more gold than cloth, the scales on her face shimmered with a dusting of silver makeup, her ensemble feeling bordering on tacky and excessive.

“It is good to see you’ve come,” the volar woman declared with that half-formed grin that her species showed whenever smiling. It was a visage with triangular sharp teeth that zigzagged between her lips.

Aisha’s shoulders squared off as if in preparation to punch the woman. “It is good to be here,” she said instead, her voice smooth and controlled in the same way customer service might hide their intentions under friendliness.

The smirk grew, and the volar woman turned to Liam. “This must be the man you’ve mentioned. We were wondering whether the only male you’d bring would be your father.”

Liam felt like he’d just been dragged into a battlefield, and one he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was in any condition to participate. He had half prepared to greet the woman who was clearly the Emir’s wife, but Aisha had stepped forward.

“Introductions are in order. Lady Berem, this is Liam Carter.” She gave a severe nod. “My betrothed.”

Despite currently not eating anything, he choked.