I am comforted by his nearness and the fact that we fit together as surely as night gave way to day each morning. I cannot think of another creature with which I have ever been this close, save for perhaps my dearest Naz. Even my own mother had kept me at arm's width, knowing that I, as the firstborn daughter and royal princess would be called from her often. I did not begrudge my mother her distance, not anymore, although it had wounded me greatly as a filly. I suspected now that my mother hated her life in Mahgrib, and that I represented all of the things that she disliked most.

It broke her heart, I think, to know that I had been destined to a similar fate, and to know that she could not help me.

Antares seeks to soothe me by telling me of Sakhmet's fire in my blood, and rewarding my courage in running from my fears. It is a bittersweet reminder of the things that I had lost and gained already in my short life. To know that I had plunged Mahgrib into a time of uncertainty and flown in the face of what Allah had planned for me still left me uneasy, but never doubtful. I knew that regardless of reason or guilt, if asked, I would do the same thing over again as long as it led me back to Antares.

I had feared this marriage for so long that I could not help but smile at the truth of my happiness before me. Even now, at the barest hint of stiffening in me at his lordly tone he is apologizing to me. He is not the man of stone that he proclaims to be, one who did not respond to me touch. He is stubborn and lordly, as one might expect a prince to be, but he is not stone to me. I shush at him with a small laugh and press my lips to his shoulder again.

"My beloved, there is nothing to forgive. Who else is therae to bear witness to the base feeling in your heart?" I smile at him, wishing to remove the guilt that flickers in his eyes. "Your heart hurts, my love. Kindness and gentleness do not come easily or without work, and we are still finding one another."

He mimics the brush across my flanks and I swear to Allah my heart is bursting for love of his man. Tears of happiness and overwhelming emotion pool at the base of my lids and I bury my face against him, drawing in a slow breath to stop them from falling. "Besides, you are no man of stone. You carry far too much passion for such a thing to be true."

A long moment passes between us as he respects my far off gaze, but I meet his gaze with my own as he responds to my question of the others mares that we have gathered to us. It is for me to make the matches, in so much as it will be my duty to see in their hearts the truth of their longing. To decipher if it is true or only passing fancy, born of loneliness, or greed, or lust. I am eager to do this for my brothers, and for the mare's, for the thought of others finding the same happiness in my brother's brings me great joy.

He speaks of Eness first, and I am not surprised to hear that Atair was partial to the dark mare, for I had read the truth of it in the brief moments I saw them together. Sakhmet, however, I had been unsure of. She had a warrior's spirit, and no great amount of visible care for either of the attending brothers. I had thought perhaps that Antares, touched as he was by the gods themselves, might find in her a kindred spirit and find her beautiful for it. The thought had an unpleasant hot and cold effect to it in my mind.

I wanted Antares to be happy, and for his influence to grow, but I wished it would not come at the expense of his exclusivity.

I read the truth of the matter in the way that he skirts around Sakhmet's preferences, giving life to the mare's reluctance to submit to any man as a way to deflect his own interest. Concious of his ability to read me as an open book, I lower my gaze thoughtfully. My initial instinct is to rebel against the thought, but in truth, was there any better option for me as a First Wife? Sakhmet was fierce, but she did not seem to take the same joy in catching the eye of a stallion, or in flirting with them. She was as fierce of a warrior woman as I had ever seen in my life, and if not the warrior brother, who better than the sheikh himself? It would not be out of reason to assume that the gods had marked her so boldly as to match my own beloved.

Still, it is neither here nor there. Antares was still mine and mine alone for the rest of the season and I knew now that my trust in him was strong enough to endure another woman even if it displeased me.

He mentions the flaxen woman again and I smile, resolving to look more into this as well. Atair and Aldebaran were dear to me, but Rigel was almost as my blood brother. I trusted him with matters I should not have laid upon his doorstep, and knew his heart to be made of gold. Any woman that bowed to him as her husband would be doted upon, as long as she didn't mind his wordy approach.

Next, he speaks of the mysterious mare that had accompanied Bahadir and my brow furrows in thought. "I cannot offer much in regard to Bahadir's sister. I did not speak to him, nor did I hear word of a sibling. Perhaps she is long lost and now found?"

I muse the words aloud as I lean against him, comfortable in his presence. I reference what I had learned from Rigel in regards to the lesser wives and speak gently, tiredness seeping into my body. As Qetesh faded from my skin, so did my energy more often. The long naps in the warm midday sun that I had scorned as a filly were slowly but surely becoming a daily occurrence. "The lesser wives do not have to be pure, do they? Is she soft like our Eness or fierce as Sakhmet?"

It is a soft question, lacking ulterior motive. Rigel had explained as much to me, and I had a personal suspicion that their more relaxed attitude toward the purity of their wives contributed to the size and strength of their empire. Mahgrib was not wholly different although you would not find a mixed blood mare married to a stallion of any rank. It was a practice reserved for the less privileged, and even then was in and of itself a sentence of continued poverty. Once your blood was mixed it could not be undone, save at the behest of a Priest of Allah, and such blessings were rare.