When my brother's call comes, I do not immediately answer. His call was dual pronged - both for myself and my Husband, and I knew of the two of us, Antares was likely far better equipped to deal with the situation. It was not that I had grown complacent, or had any wish to shirk my duties as their Mira, but I was so very tired. Aminah was weaning, and as her diet changed, so had her normal easy going moods. When I was forced to tell her not to do something, even as minor as not taunting a scorpion lest she be stung, it was no longer met with benign acceptance of my wisdom. Rather, petulant silence now often greeted my instruction and I was ill-equipped to deal with her sullenness.

Further complicating our small family's happiness was the rush of the season. Given Aminah's youth and the rapidly changing composition of our family, I had made the decision to remain barren this season. In truth, a part of me had wondered if one of his other, lesser women, would step forward and ask to become a wife, but this did not seem to the case. Nor, apparently, did his first conquest have any desire to claim him once more.

Such thoughts (possesive and unfair as they were) should have filled me with elation, but somehow only deepened the irritation I held for myself. Somehow, I was frustrated with myself for my choice, even though it was I that made the decision. I felt as thought I were letting my husband down, and forcing him to endure the fires of Min and Qetesh unfairly and without reprieve.

And yet the thought of trying to handle Aminah's ever-changing moods and the herd on top of another pregnancy seemed insurmountable.

I had taken to avoiding Antares when I could under the guise of caring for her daughter. In reality, I was only trying to spare him the agony of my company. When together, it was all I could do to not picture the way his teeth had raked across my skin beneath that moonlit first night, or the way we had come together in the morning after speaking of our mutual adoration. Antares held my heart and my soul, and every particle of my being cried out for his touch. I knew he felt the same, and so I knew, from experience, that each moment we were in close proximity was its own sweet agony. And so I stayed away, and when we did come together, it was never when we were alone. Always a brother, or Aminah, or one of the lesser wives accompanied us.

And so it would be for now. Until the fire burned from our skin and left us both sane again.

Eventually, I answer to Rigel's call, my curiosity overwhelming me. Bidding Aminah to stay behind (the command met with a flippant eye roll as she peeled off to find her sister), I trotted loosely over the Dunes until the quartet could be seen. At first, it made little sense. Rigel stood, his pose clearly rigidly fixated on the beautiful mare that stood before him. She echoed his focus, her entire being yearning toward him in a way that I could all too easily recognize. Aldebaran - of all the brothers - stood somewhat further away, although he, too, was staring toward them. Strangely, I did not yet see my Husband, but I trusted that he would soon arrive.

For now, I gravitated toward the brother I knew the least, and dipped my dished face toward him. "Brother, I am glad to see you well." A smile touched my lips, and I turned my gaze back to the clearly courting pair. Only then was I able to take in the finer points of the golden mare. Her ears curved delicately inward, and her figure was more upright and slender than for others of my ancestry. Further still, an insistent but indistinct itch of familiarity plagued my mind. "I see we have been blessed with another like-minded soul. She seems already acquainted with our Rigel."

Later, I will understand where I know this woman from, but for now she is only distantly familiar. The way you might eventually recognize the face of someone you'd travelled with on a train for months but never spoken to. Our circles - as princess and diplomat's wife, did not often cross. Seeing the two of them together and the obvious chemistry that sparked between them, I could not help but wonder if we would perhaps see more than just one wedding this year.