I know he watches me with the same obsession with which I watch him. My fixation is not limited to these precious nights that we spend together, protected from the inquisitive gazes of our growing family. I look upon him too, when he is with his brothers, proud and free as they run across the dunes. I imagine the press of his skin when his body gleams with the sweat of his effort, and I hunger after him as he grazes under the bright light of Ra.

I doubt him, sometimes, too certain that his head will be turned by the beautiful creatures that have joined us, but it fades as soon as he looks upon me. My soul recognizes his and the truth of it in ways that I cannot explain. It is only my own doubts that make me unsure and unsteady when we are apart, too new to this life to feel truly secure in it. In a way, all of this still feels like a fever dream, as though I had mistakenly eaten spoiled mangos and had dreamed it all at the foot of a healer.

He turns to me in answer and I am soothed by the tenderness in his voice. I ponder the name he offers in my mind, rolling it around until I have the measure of it. I can see myself shouting after a small colt, so like his father in color, and it's so sweet it hurts to think about. It is a fitting name for a small prince, and I am pleased that my love has come up with it. I hope so dearly to give him a son that he can cherish, a strong colt to carry on his family traditions.

It is not that I do not want a daughter, for I do, but daughters do not carry on kingdoms. They do not go to war for their fathers or bring honor in my homeland unless they become well-married wives. And if I am glaringly honest, I am afraid of mothering a girl. I do not want her to grow up as sheltered as me, but I still feel as though my husband's culture regarding girls is largely a mystery. No matter how much Rigel explains to me it still feels so other that I think of it as I do a storybook, rather than as a life mares have lived in Mira.

What would my daughter be like, if she knew she could have the world as soon as she was born?

My smile grows timid at the thought, but it quickly gentles as he breathes softly against the subtle swell of my stomach. He had given life to my body in so many ways, but it was the light that I carried within me that promised hope for our future. I smile against his body as he speaks, and I reach to touch him softly in contentment. "I like Errai, it is a strong name for a son to grow into."

My voice is gentle as I respond, and I brush a gentle caress over the strong line of his back. "He would have the best teachers, I think." Amusement colors my voice as I temporarily push aside the thought of a daughter, willing my desire for a son to seep into my belly and determine my child's gender. "Aldebaran could teach him what it is to fly over the Dunes, matching the hawk's speed as they fly high above. And Atair could teach him what it is to use his body to defend himself and those he loves." I smile at the thought of Atair and the mare he had arrived with. "Rigel could teach him what it is to value knowledge, and to share it with joy."

I crane my elegant neck so that I can see his face again, my eyes and heart full of love. "And you, to teach him all of those things in temperance." I smile through a small laugh, "and how to be all of those things at once. To show him what it is to love and be loved, as you have shown me."

I fall quiet for a moment, not having forgotten his question. My ears tip back in uncertainty, but a daughter is not something I've never considered. You thought of such things when you were a filly of course, back when all you seemed to do was dream of the man you would marry and how many children you would someday have. "Aminah," I say quietly into the space between us. "Aminah bint Antares bin Sirius."

The words fall quiet for a long moment before I continue. "It was my auntie's name. I never met her, but my mother spoke of her often, and I know that she loved her. It means trustworthy," I say with a small smile.