It should not have surprised me to see that it was my nephew that had been lost in his thoughts, his gaze far away when I approached. With his impending wedding coming ever closer, I imagined he had much to think about, and hopefully, much to look forward to. I had spent the days before my original wedding in a state of misery and terror, foolishly believing myself to be betrothed to someone who was not my Soul Sewn. Fate had seen to rectify my mistake, the gods sending our paths careening together anyway, and showing me - at least - the error of my ways.

My first instinct was to brush away the title he so carefully offered - a long-standing habit that had formed in the early days, when the weight of such a title had fit strangely on my untried shoulders. It had eventually grown less uncomfortable to hear in the latter days of Maslakhat's reign, less like they were lying to my face for the sake of my pride, but that small measure of relief had faded during our long absence and it once again felt as though I were merely trying on someone else's shoes and pretending as though they fit. But I remember what it cost him to offer it to me, remembered the woman I was trying to be for my Beloved's sake, and caged the words behind my tongue, offering only an inclination of my head in response.

"And to you, nephew," I echo, smiling toward him. It was strange to think of how small he and his brother had once been, how fragile and innocent. Aminah had only been a year old at his birth, and I remembered those treasured moments with a smile that was bittersweet, which disappeared as I noticed the inquiring direction of his gaze. I flushed beneath the judgment that I assumed came with, and had to grit my teeth and draw a breath in as I fought down the wave of self-loathing and embarrassment at the thoughts he was surely thinking.

A Mira, who had not only born her Sheik only daughters - no sons to carry his line on - but a Mira who had turned away from her Husband's touch last season yet again. Our reconciliation had happened, of course, and I was glad of it, but it had been too far beyond the fires of Min and Qetesh to take within my body. A part of me had foolishly hoped otherwise, but I knew what the flush of pregnancy felt like on my skin, and it had not graced mine own since Nashira. It would be right for Al Hilal and the others of our family to judge me for what I did not provide; I who did little to honor the title of wife, and yet kept him jealously to herself, forcing him to endure Qetesh alone, again. My skin flushed beneath the paling veneer of fur and I took a steadying breath in, my ear tipping reluctantly to catch the next words that he offered me.

Distracted as I was, I am not certain what he means, and the first thought it engenders is so full of shameful implications that I cannot save off the shocked inhale. "No," I answer, a bit more sharply than I intended. "No," I say again more softly, painfully aware of why he may think that. "I appreciate the concern, but I've no need of a tonic. I-" the words catch in my throat but I push past them, fighting to maintain something resembling a neutral tone, "I carry no new cousins this season. Perhaps we should be so blessed next season."

My body felt alight with all of the emotions I'd been so studiously trying to hide from that I was eager to move to the next topic, to take the focus from myself. "And perhaps," I say warmly, letting a smile edge into my tone and onto my lips, "if the gods are kind, you might have one of your own to dote over, no?"

I watch his face carefully, not just because I am curious as his aunt, but because some small part of me remembers that it is part of my duty as his Mira to make sure that this match he has requested, is borne from genuine feeling. That both parties - not just his wife to be - will be happy in this.