The drapes that blocked off Mala’s leisure room swooshed aside and a red-faced maid stumbled into the room.

“Quick, my lady!” she said between huffing breaths. “M’lord’s in a foul mood!”

Mala set aside her embroidery and stood. She hadn’t ever seen one of the maids this worried, even when she’d first come to the desert and refused to wear a scarf on her hair. Mala gathered her gauzy robe around her and tied the belt. “What does my lord want?”

But the maid didn’t get a chance to say anything. Useph burst into the room, nearly knocking the maid down. He was still dressed in his traveling clothes, and he was carrying a sceptre in his hand that Mala had never seen before. It was beautiful. If she hadn’t been so annoyed at his bursting in, she might have taken the time to ask about it. He wasn’t supposed to come in here at all; it was meant to be her private space, and Mala felt her cheeks growing angry red at the intrusion.

“There she is!” Useph said. “Still not dressed, country mouse? It’s hard to believe you were a miller’s daughter. You’re as spoiled and lazy as any princess.”

Mala drew herself up, and was about to give him an earful in return, but the maid caught her eye. She was shaking her head, eyes wide and frightened. Maybe it would be best not to make Useph angrier. No good would come of it. Mala took a deep breath and blew it out. She pasted her best smile on.

“What can I do for my lord?” she asked.

“Get dressed,” Useph said. “We hold court together today. I’ve had enough of you slinking off, shirking your duties. You’ll act the Lady of the Desert and not get up to...what do you get up to?”

He’d never wanted her to hold court with him before, but Mala didn’t want to argue with him. She definitely didn’t want to talk about what she got up to. She didn’t let her smile waver an inch. “I’ll be ready at once,” she said.

She snagged the frightened maid and the two of them went to Mala’s wardrobe, leaving Useph fuming in the antechamber. The maid didn’t even seem to remember she wasn’t supposed to allow Mala in there. They got her into her most conservative clothes in no time and Mala returned to Useph’s side looking every bit the Lady of the Desert, drab and dry as the land itself.

Useph took her elbow and Mala’s eye fell on the sceptre again. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before. Maybe it was some traditional thing the Lords of the Desert had when they held court. But, if that was the case why hadn’t he held it at the ceremony when his subjects had accepted her as their Lady? She looked out of the corner of her eye at Useph’s set face as he led her down the corridors toward the throne room. Today wasn’t the day to ask questions.

~

It might not have been so boring if she’d thought to bring her needle work. Mala spread her fingers across the brown fabric of her skirt and sighed. Surely the morning was coming to an end. Would they break for lunch? How many people sought the Lord’s audience each day, anyway?

“Melgar the Younger, my lord,” the guard announced. “Caught red-handed.”

Two more guards came into the throne room, pulling between them a third man whose hands hands were tied in front of him. He was well-dressed, but disheveled. There was dried blood on his upper lip and his salt-and-pepper hair stuck up in the back.

“What was he doing this time?” Useph asked.

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“My lord, I must protest,” Melgar said. “I’ve never been caught…”

“Don’t try to tell me you’ve never done anything wrong,” Useph said. “We both know you don’t come by your fine things honestly.”

“I don’t…”

“Quiet!” Useph cut him off, raising a hand, palm out. He kept it up while he turned to address the guard. “What was he doing?”

“He stole a priest’s money. It was a big haul, the full charity spending for the month that the priest was taking to market to buy for the widows and orphans. And he slit the priest’s throat to do it.”

“Red-handed, you say?” Useph said.

“Found him standing over the body with the purse in his hand,” the guard said. “And he confessed.”

“I didn’t…” Melgar began, and then took a step back as Useph rose to his feet in fury.

“I said quiet!” He said. “I sentence you, Melgar, to death!” And he tapped his Sceptre once into the stone floor. Mala jumped at the sound. It was louder than she’d thought it would be.

“In three days,” Useph continued. “By hanging on the first Bridge Day.”

The guards nodded and backed out of the room, dragging the unhappy Melgar with them.

“Luncheon, my love?” Useph asked Mala.

Mala nodded and started to rise, but Useph waved her back down.

“No need,” he said. “They’ll bring it in.”

“Oh.” Mala pasted her smile back onto her face and tried to find a more comfortable way to sit. “Wonderful.”

~

It turned out she did get to get out of the uncomfortable throne for a while. It was a nice-looking chair, ornately carved, but very hard, and cold. Metal was like that, and the chair was some kind of goldish metal. Maybe brass? If it wasn’t jewelry, Mala didn’t pay much attention to things like that, although the beauty of Useph’s--new? old?--sceptre was catching her curiosity as well as her eye. He’d brought it with him to the little folding table and chairs the servants had brought in with their lunch. It was there, leaning against the table with his left hand laying on it, while Useph ate one-handed.

“Lord Neal has departed,” Mala said, after washing down the last of her food with a swallow of wine. They had eaten in silence, but it was worth trying to strike up a conversation to not have to go back to that throne too soon.

“I know,” Useph said.

“Why was he visiting?” Mala asked. “It is a long way to Laed. I remember.”

“Business,” Useph said. “There is no need to be concerned with it.”

“Oh,” Mala said. “What is this dessert? It’s so flaky. Even more than the pastries I got in Laed.”

“Baklava?” Useph raised an eyebrow. “Every child of the desert eats it.” he said.

The door banged open and the guard stepped in. “So sorry to interrupt, my lord!” he said quickly. “But the news was urgent.”

Useph’s eyes narrowed, but his voice was calm. “What is it?”

“It’s that thief, Melgar the younger, my lord,” the guard said. “The men were taking him to the cells, and he fell down, and well…He’s dead my lord.”

Useph didn’t move, but Mala thought his eyes flashed and she detected the slightest quirk to his mouth, like a smile gone as soon as it came. “Not a concern. He was scheduled to die, anyway.”

“I suppose so, my lord,” the guard said. “Though how he came to fall…” He rubbed his chin. “It makes no sense, my lord.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Useph said. “Perhaps fate was a little early, but the result is the same.”

“I suppose so, my lord.” The guard looked at their table. “Need any more lunch, my lord?”

“No, we are finished,” Useph said. “Take it away. And bring in the next petitioner. My dear?”

Mala felt her pasted smile getting tight under the strain as she let him lead her back to the hard, cold throne.