It is not the first time I have misunderstood my nephew, unfortunately, and likely will not be the last. I can see the mortification in his expression as he immediately tries to correct himself, and attempt to smooth it over with a shake of my head. I did not take offense; if I had understood him correctly, it would have been a bold request to be sure, but one that I did still expect. The sort of thing I believed all of our Sadim to be thinking, even if no others were brave enough to ask. But of course, I had misunderstood, misspoke, misstepped.

"It is okay," I murmur, embarrassment warming my cheeks. "There is no harm done, nephew. Y-yes, my health is well." I finally answer, my skin prickling. I knew that my Beloved believed me up to the task of being the Mira, but I still sometimes felt foolish pretending.

Thankfully, he is happy to talk about his upcoming nuptials and the smile I offer him is wholly genuine. It relieves me greatly to see the joy on his face as it helps to reassure me that this match is well made. Not that I expected Atair to allow his son to find a poor match, nor for him to rush his son into marriage, but I still worried. With Al Hilal's speech as it is, I find myself more protective of him than I might otherwise be, more conscious of those that might seek to use him.

I did not want him to be hurt.

"I cannot wait to meet her," I say, unable to stay solemn in the face of his joy. "Where did the two of you meet?"

Understandably, the details we had received about Azalais' status had been scattered and rooted in the same sort of adoration that caused me to call Antares my Beloved and Soul Sewn rather than by his name. Even so, we understood where she was and with whom, and had already set plans in motion to go meet her. Soon I would be able to see for myself how worthy Al Hilal's bride truly was.