Tylla was indeed relieved to have her young husband deployed to fight the Nazeers, and she was even more relieved to have her moon blood appear the day after he left. Despite him rolling on top of her every night, she had dodged that arrow for now. She did manage to train him to be a more gentle, less selfish lover but he still had a long way to go.

He was kind though and doting, with large brown eyes that followed her lovingly around their handsome stone home. It featured airy rooms and three servants to maintain it. Bored most days, Tylla spent her time in the garden or riding Sola, Starlex’s white mare. If Starlex ever returned, she would give the horse back to her. But Tylla doubted she would ever see her strange, pale-haired aunt again.

She made it a daily custom to ride in the afternoon. Her young husband insisted a groom, an ambitious young man named Davar Nazeer accompany her, but she tried to pretend she was alone. The countryside was beautiful, and one fine day she decided to ride all the way to Terragonian Bluff.

At first, Davar insisted it wasn’t safe. There were too many crazed Illymiums living there and they would think nothing of pulling a rider from her horse if it would put whiskey in their bellies for the night.

Tylla reminded the young man that, despite her dark Davadas looks, she was in fact half Illymium and he should be more respectful. She used his deep blush and apology to gain leverage and soon she was flying on Sola’s back along the high green bluff.

The view of the sea was stunning, the elevation so high so could see clear over the peaks of Kadaar into the black Jodur Forest itself, lying like a dark, misty pool beneath icy clouds.

“Don’t push your horse too much, milady,” Davar said, catching up with her from atop his chestnut gelding.

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Tylla said, bringing Sola to a rearing halt then sliding off her back to the mossy ground. “Time to eat. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving,” he said, shaking the wind from his strawberry blonde hair as he dismounted.

She could tell from Davar’s lingering gaze that he was already half in love with her.

Maybe I should tell these men right away that I am simply not interested in what they carry in their trousers, that I find it odd and cumbersome and frankly, comical.

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Or maybe…

She fixed Davar with a wide and dazzling smile as she pulled the satchel from her saddle, I should just enjoy bringing this young man to heel. I am my mother’s daughter after all.

* * * *

Hyperia was restless and bored after spending several weeks at Roselynn Davadas’ country home. Her sister-in-law’s constant chattering was draining.

Roselynn's pregnancy had advanced to a state where she rarely left her bed. Hyperia insisted on performing the nursing duties herself. All of the daily irritations only strengthen Hyperia’s resolve to be rid of her annoying sister-in-law when the time came at last.

Yewen Illymium, who spent most of the day either in the small library or the garden where he cultivated mysterious herbs, assured the queen during their private conversations that when the time came, he would give Roselynn a sleeping draft from which she would never awake.

“A most, pleasant, painless death,” he assured her.

Hyperia didn’t know if you could endure it for another three moons. Every few days, she sent a letter by raven to Oran palace. Roselynn was still too ill for her to come home, she’d explain. When the king expressed husbandly concern about her own condition, Hyperia brightly replied that she was right as rain and that their son was kicking up a storm inside her belly. She knew this would please him. As for Roselynn, she pampered her every whim, but always with an eye on her growing belly, praying to Illym that her sister-in-law was carrying a male child.

She knew Scipio was busy with the Nazeer aggression; Oran’s forces had managed to contain their opponents within Crytombe Crags. The few citizens remaining within her home city walls were those who stubbornly refused to relocate, mostly older Illymiums as well as some tradesmen still peddling the exotic scents and spices for which the ancient city was known.

Hyperia wouldn’t mind if the entire lot of them just keeled over and dissolved into the Arki Desert’s pink sands. But she would hate to see Nazeers take it over. Scipio should have never left it in that condition, abandoned and vulnerable.

Instead of fortifying Oran, we should be expanding her empire, finding a way to get the Sylvan River flowing again. Then Mynimium could once again become Ardelym’s finest jewel.

Sitting by Roselynn’s bedside with a neglected piece of embroidery in her lap, Hyperia eyed her snoring sister-in-law’s belly heaving like a bellows.

This child will set all of Ardelym right again, she thought. He will fulfill the prophecy of Illym. The reason my god hasn’t struck me down for my sins is that he knows it’s right and good.

But for now, she picked up her needle. I must be patient.

Roselynn stirred with a blubbering belch on her lips, causing Hyperia to start and stick her finger with the needle. She watched the drop of her bluish Illyminium blood plop onto the linen handkerchief and spread out like a blooming rose.

One day, all of Ardelym will thank me for what I’m about to do.