Tsia stretched lazily, her arms sweeping across the soft, silk sheets as she struggled to contain a yawn. It had been a wonderful day in a wonderful week.

Once Jasper and Ihra left, Rā’imu had arranged for her to have breakfast in bed each day. They’d gone riding in the mountains, painting on the terrace, even hunting little blue slimes in a cave - she wrinkled her nose, remembering with a hint of disgust the goop the creatures had left all over her. And today, he’d even taken her on a trip to Dūr-Yarha.

She had grown up in the royal city of Sapiya, Yas̆peh. The only city in the province that wasn’t devastated during the Fey Wars, Yas̆peh had, ironically, enough been saved by an army from the Sapiyans ever-irksome rival, Stryn, and had managed to hold out long enough for the imperial army to arrive.

As a result, Yas̆peh was the largest and most beautiful city in her father’s realm. Tsia thought herself quite the cultured cosmopolitan. But when she had rode down the streets of Dūr-Yarha, she felt like a peasant from the hills on their first trip to a city. The population must have been double, or even triple, that of Yas̆peh and the sheer wealth that was on display throughout the nobles' districts made her mouth water a little.

Rā’imu was ostensibly in the city on business for his House, so they’d visited a few of the industries the House of the Third Son owned before visiting their suppliers. Without meaning to, Tsia had found herself joining in on the negotiations, haggling with the merchants, even pounding out a new deal with a minor house. It was a familiar world to her.

A sudden pang of homesickness sprung up in heart.

The tumbling waterfalls of her little conservatory back home splashed through her mind, followed by a cavalcade of all too familiar faces. Her father, his greying hair hid beneath the crown, a warm crinkle in his eyes as he greeted her with a hug. Little Apilāni, always begging her to play with him, to tell him stories of the kings and gods of old. Even her other half-siblings, for as much they tormented her at the urging of their mother, still made an appearance. There had been a time, after all, when they had played together in the gardens of the palace.

Tsia sighed. Nostalgia was an incorrigible liar, ever keen to present rusting steel as shining silver and smoky quartz as diamonds. A few moments of sunlight were not sufficient to banish the dark storms that had hung over her life in Yas̆peh. She had made her choice and there was no turning back. Still, until she met Rā’imu, Tsia hadn’t realized how sorely she missed aspects of life in the courts.

She felt out of place in their little group. Nēs̆u did his best to take care of her, but he was just a retired guilder who had been appointed by her father as a guard. He pressured her, from time to time, to return to court, as was his duty, but truthfully, he was far happier roughing it out in the wilds, fighting monsters and meeting gods, than lounging around the courts of Yas̆peh.

Ihra was a bit of a mystery to Tsia. When she had first met the pretty blond elfling, Tsia had hope they would quickly become fast friends; unfortunately, Ihra barely acknowledged her. She was friendly enough with Jasper, even with Nēs̆u, but whenever Tsia tried to have a conversation with the archer, it was about as much fun as pulling teeth.

And then there was Jasper. He was cordial enough. She blushed, her cheeks turning crimson. Maybe a bit more than cordial. He had definitely been a bit flirty at times, but whenever she started to think there might be something there, he’d grow distant. Unlike Ihra, he was quite talkative, willing to talk about anything and everything - except himself and the world he came from. There was a wall there that she had yet to pierce.

Tsia just didn’t fit in the group. A princess who had never camped a day in her life until she ran away from her father’s courts; a mage who had never used her magic to kill anything until that battle on Arutû’s mountain. The life Rā’imu offered was everything she missed about home, and everything she had dreamed about having as a child - a loving family.

Everything except for her mother.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in.”

Nēs̆u opened the door cautiously, averting his eyes as he stepped into the room. “Are you decent, my lady?”

“There’s no need to be so formal, Nēs̆u. Nobody cares anymore.”

The warrior sighed as he strode over to her. His brown hair was pulled back tightly behind his ears, his face clearly freshly shaven, and he wore a richly embroider tunic in place of his usual armor.

“Someday, my lady, you will return to your senses and wish to go back home. Until that time, you should still behave with propriety.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why are you all dressed up, Nēs̆u? We just got back from the city and I doubt Rā’imu is going to want to do anything else tonight.”

The worry on his brow lifted as a rare smile broke his lips. “Ah, that is why I came to see you. The elders of the House have finally agreed to see us. We’re meeting them in a hour.”

Tsia sat up with a shriek. “Why didn’t you tell me that immediately. I can’t go looking like this!” She leapt out of bed, regretfully abandoning the warmth of the silky sheets as the chill mountain air washed over her. “Out, out. I need to change” She shooed Nēs̆u out the door. Slamming it shut, she leaned against the door with a sigh as she ran through in her mind her limited dress options.

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Packing your life up on a single horse had its downside, even if she did have a small bag of holding. The scarlet dress will do, I suppose.

It turned out to be a bit more of a struggle to get into on her own then she had expected, so when a welcome knock came on the door - a maid sent from Rā’imu - she was more than happy to accept the proffered aid. Together, the two barely managed to get her ready in time; indeed, the maid was still putting the finishing touches on her hair when Nēs̆u reentered the room.

“It’s time.”

The two hurried through the gardens that surrounded the main hall. The winsome scent of flowers filled the air as the delicate blossoms of Damqa’s Breath opened beneath the pale moonlight. But Rā’imu’s servant did not lead them to the hall, heading instead toward the stable. Rā’imu was already there, mounted up on his usual chestnut horse, and their mounts were there as well, already saddled by the servants.

He waved them over with a friendly smile. “Sorry about the short notice, but the elders suddenly wanted to see you.” His smile slipped slightly. “I thought they’d be waiting another week, but I guess something changed.”

A servant came rushing over, the all-important package cradled in his hands. The servants tied the lyre to Tsia’s horse, and then they were off.

The three trotted out the gate into the night.

“So where are we headed?” Tsia asked.

Her brother nodded toward the mountain that loomed above the House of the Third Son’s many estates. “All the important stuff happens up there, on the top of Mt. Qaitz.” He grinned as he saw a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Don’t worry, there’s a road that leads all the way to the top - we won’t be hiking in the dark.”

They rode in comfortable silence, the gentle moonlight illuminating the peaceful countryside almost as bright as day. The moon seemed to shine brighter here, Tsia thought, then it did back home, although she preferred Shamsha’s warm rays to the pale, but cold light of Selene. Still, the unnatural brightness of the moon seemed a clear sign from the divine. The Moon-kissed loved their goddess and she, in turn, shone her favor on them.

Low stone walls edged the road on either side, clearly demarcating the path ahead and every few feet one of the pale green stones was planted into the ground, lighting the way. Their path smoothed before them, the three reached the top of the mountain far faster than Tsia would have guessed was possible. An estate rested there - the only house on the mountain. Tsia had been expecting some grand edifice, a physical statement of the power, wealth, and majesty of the House of the Third Son. Such was the nature of nobles, after all.

But she was surprised at how comparatively humble the abode was. It wasn’t a hovel - your average commoner would certainly consider it a mansion - but for an important noble's house, it was supremely unimpressive.

Rā’imu read her thoughts, or perhaps her expression. “This manor was the very first home of our clan, built by the Damqa’s heir himself. It is a sacred place, the only home we allow to be built on the mountain,” he explained.

A bevy of servants rushed to help them of the mounts as they rode into the cobblestoned courtyard, swiftly leading their steeds off to the stables. Her hands shook slightly as she gave the lyre to Nēs̆u, who hoisted it in his arms with an easy grace. Tsia wasn’t sure quite what to expect from the elders, but the sudden summons had her a bit on edge. Still, she had not grown up in the palace without picking up a few tricks along the way. Chewing on the inside of her cheeks, she concentrated on the pain to force the jitters away. Her brow cleared, her worry replaced with a mask of confidence as she strode into the hall.

They were just elders after all; she was a princess twice over. Who cares what they thought of her?

The meeting dragged on forever. Tsia had sat in on more than a few occasions while her father parlayed with his nobles. The king of Sapiya was far from an iron-fisted tyrant. To the east, Gis̆-Izum governed itself with almost complete autonomy, while the fortress city of Birnah, responsible for guarding the frontier with Stryn, was ever haughty in its demands, the lord of the city secure in the knowledge of its importance to the province. Only the lord of Ikkarim had been amenable to her father's will - when he bothered to visit the court, that is. Their meetings had often dragged on for hours but there, at least, Tsia hadn’t been forced to be an active participant.

Tonight, though, she found herself thrust into her father’s role and quickly realized it was harder than it looked.

The elders of the Third Son definitely wanted the Lyre of Damqa. Their eyes practically shone with greed when it was presented to them, the court clustered around the ancient instrument as their scholars examined it. When it was confirmed as genuine, not even the head of the house could hide his avarice.

The problem, however, was that the Moon-kissed held pretty much all the cards in the negotiation. The lyre was already practically in their possession, sitting on a table an isolated manor on their sacred mountain. Fortunately, they weren’t inclined to outright steal the lyre, feeling the need to over some recompense in exchange. Rā'imu's House proved to have some sense of honor which, Tsia was reluctantly forced to admit, was to their credit; there were certainly nobles in her father’s court who would have simply taken the lyre and not bothered negotiating.

But the unspoken threat was very much on the table. If they really wanted to, they could cast her and Nēs̆u out, and nobody would care enough to punish them.

Or, at least, that would have been true if Jasper had not been gang pressed into the Djinn royal family. The elders weren’t quite certain how entrenched her partner was in the royal house, how important of a position he held, and the ambiguity gave her room to maneuver.

Tsia threw herself into the negotiations wholeheartedly, the honeyed words falling from her lips with surprising ease. This was her chance to prove her worth to Jasper, to prove to her whole party that she was more than just a pampered princess. That she had a place in the party.

The moonlight had long faded beneath the burning rays of the sun when the final details of the deal were hammered out. And as Tsia scanned the contract one last time, it took every ounce of her skill to keep the gleam of pride out of her eye.

She had done well.

The 100,000 gold they had given her was nice. Far less than the lyre was worth, of course, but a little extra money certainly couldn't hurt. She wasn't sure exactly how much money Jasper and Ihra had, but, as far as she knew, they weren't exactly rich.

The ten horses was...well, Tsia didn't really want the horses at all, but apparently it was tradition.

But the favor - that was the true feather in her cap. If Jasper was going to be stuck navigating the treacherous world of nobility, a favor from a prominent House could be an ace up his sleeve.

In the end, power only respects power.