Kingdom in The Sand

Cosmetic Touch

Some days later, Marie-Fey was frowning disapprovingly down at a letter Constantine had sent her about his latest scandal that had almost got his head blown off by a very annoyed fiancé, (Rosalia, lords save her from her own bullheadedness, had got in between the stand-off and everyone walked away no worse for wear). He had also sent her a gift.

A set of golf clubs.

He was explaining that she could take Zaydan's head off with them if there was no good course around, if he ever annoyed her enough. Her brother was ever on the ball for someone who only ever seemed to think with his hips. She had mentioned his name in passing in a letter.

Seeing as there was no well-placed golf course in the city or the endless expanse of surrounding sand, Constantine had given her a new mode of weaponry to use against Zaydan if the arrows grew boring.

Eyes on her made her look up.

She was lounging in one of the large communal rooms, rugs and huge cushions scattered across the floor, cushioned benches around the walls – where Marie-Fey sat. the design of the room allowed for a gentle, cool breeze to filter through as sunlight poured through the windows, books, games and cosmetics scattered around them.

Other women were in the room, enjoying each other's companies with soft voices and easy laughter. Despite her presence, the girls didn't seem unduly tense, which was new. They got on with their day, leaving her be, neither trying to bother her nor scrambling away.

She scanned the room to see who was watching her and Azeeza's dark eyes connected.

The girl jumped at being caught staring.

She was hovering in one of the arching doorways.

Around her were the three girls she shared a room with, passing her by without a thought as they trailed in, talking to each other.

Marie-Fey and Azeeza eyed each other for a moment, then Marie-Fey gave a single beckon and Azeeza walked over as Marie-Fey collected her papers into a neat pile.

When the girl was stopped in front of her, they stared at each other for a moment, before Marie-Fey said, "Talk."

"I want to go home," Azeeza replied.

"Don't we all?" Marie-Fey replied and moved on. "How have you found your first – what? – ten days?"

"They put me to work in the laundry," Azeeza spat, "They said my rank didn't mean anything here. I was told that by a whore-child who has nothing but the good luck of half-decent looks. Nothing compares to breeding and that thing doesn't have any, yet she dared hit me when I spoke back."

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at her, straightened.

"You have a backbone, that will do you well here," she said coolly, holding out a hand.

Azeeza looked at it for a moment, not trusting her, then placed her own in Marie-Fey's so she could examine the already-damaged skin on her palms.

"You will need to learn when and how to use that temper, however," Marie-Fey said calmly as she reached over to one of the cosmetics tables and picked up a jar of cream. "Building enemies is not what you need. You need to forge alliances. Friends mean everything."

"You don't have any friends," Azeeza sneered, possibly trying to hurt her but the strike fell short as Marie-Fey nodded, dipping a square of cloth in the cream and beginning to dap it onto the raw palm.

"You are correct, I don't. But I am also the highest-ranking person here – save Lord Zaydan. I did not have to rise through the ranks either. I came in second only to Lord Zaydan's mother. You do not have that luxury. If you anger the wrong person, being struck is only one outcome. You could be hurt far worse. Maybe you'll be starved. Or scarred. Sent away to serve as a slave to some monster. Or maybe damaged beyond repair. Have you ever been whipped?"