The dusk-painted chamber felt smaller with each passing hour. Satakhetem paced slowly across the palm-frond floor, the soft rustle of greenery beneath her paws the only sound breaking the quiet.

Outside, the palace was alive with music and celebration — the wedding of the jodai Sapair and the handmaiden Sitamun.

She had not been invited.

Satakhetem’s ears flicked as the door opened and Aiesha entered, likely on another round of guard duty or delivering a meal. The coywolf’s posture was practical, alert, but clearly uncomfortable being so close to the heart of court life.

Satakhetem stopped pacing and turned toward her with measured grace, her sapphire eyes gleaming with calculated warmth.

Aiesha, she greeted, her voice smoother than it had been in days. You have been standing guard for hours. Come. Sit with me for a moment.

She gestured toward the luxurious black furs draped over the obsidian plinth, an invitation rather than a command.

Once Aiesha was closer, Satakhetem continued, her tone almost wistful.

They are celebrating tonight. The jodai and his bride. The whole palace is alight with song and feasting. She let out a soft breath, glancing toward the doorway as distant music drifted in. I have been thinking… perhaps it is time I showed my face. Not to cause trouble. Simply to pay my respects, as is proper. A wedding is a time of new beginnings, is it not?

She turned her gaze fully on Aiesha, a faint, almost gentle smile touching her lips.

You know this palace better than I do. You move through it freely as a mazoi. Walk with me tonight? I would feel… steadier with someone familiar at my side. Someone who understands what it is to carry old blood in a new world.

Satakhetem tilted her head slightly, her voice laced with subtle persuasion.

It would only be for a short while. I have no desire for confrontation. I simply wish to show that I can be civil — that I am not the monster they whisper about behind closed doors. Will you accompany me, Aiesha?

She watched the younger female carefully, her expression one of quiet hope mixed with regal expectation.

Aiesha lingered just inside the doorway, her paws shifting uncomfortably on the palm fronds. The distant music and laughter from the grand hall filtered through the corridors like a living thing — bright, joyful, and completely foreign to her. Her ears twitched at every swell of song and cheer.

She kept her gaze lowered, respectful but guarded, as Satakhetem spoke.

The princess’s voice was softer tonight. Almost… kind. It unsettled Aiesha more than outright commands ever could.

Amiirad, she answered carefully, her voice quiet and measured, I am only a mazoi. My duty is to guard these halls, not to walk among the guests at such a celebration. Especially not tonight. Sapair and Sitamun have earned their peace. I would not want to… complicate it.

She risked a brief glance up at Satakhetem. The taller female looked almost sincere — regal, yes, but there was something almost vulnerable in the way she spoke of wanting to pay respects. It made Aiesha’s chest tighten with unease.

She shifted her weight again, claws flexing.

With respect, I do not believe it is wise for you to attend either, she continued gently, trying not to sound defiant. The court is still… unsettled after what happened at the feast. Many eyes will be watching. If you wish to send a message or a gift to the couple, I can deliver it discreetly. That might be better for everyone.

Aiesha’s tail tucked slightly. Part of her wanted to believe the amiirad’s words — that she only wished to show civility. Another part, the part shaped by collapsed kingdoms and screaming crowds, screamed that this was dangerous.

Still… the way Satakhetem spoke made it sound so reasonable. Like she truly just wanted to be seen as something other than a threat. Aiesha hesitated, caught between instinct and the quiet, persuasive pull of the princess’s voice.

Satakhetem listened to Aiesha’s hesitant words with a soft, understanding tilt of her head. Internally, irritation flickered hot and sharp behind her ribs — how dare this girl refuse her — but none of it showed on her face. Instead, she offered a small, almost wistful smile.

I understand your hesitation, she said gently, her voice warm and patient. You are a mazoi. You value duty and discretion. That is admirable. Truly.

She took a slow step closer, her sapphire eyes soft with careful sincerity.

But think of it this way, Aiesha. If I remain locked away in here while the entire palace celebrates, will they not whisper that I am still a threat? That I sulk and scheme in the shadows?

Satakhetem let out a quiet sigh, glancing toward the doorway where distant music floated in like an invitation.

I only wish to show my face for a short while. To offer my respects to the couple and prove that I can be civil. That I am not the monster some would paint me as.

She reached out and lightly brushed her paw against Aiesha’s wrist — a rare, deliberate gesture of closeness.

You know this palace. You know its people. Walk with me. Stand at my side. With you there, no one can claim I came to cause chaos. You would be doing your duty… and helping me show that Toula’s blood can bring harmony instead of division.

Satakhetem’s voice dropped to something almost conspiratorial, warm and persuasive.

Just for a little while. No scenes. No demands. Only celebration. Will you do this for me, Aiesha?

Aiesha shifted uneasily, ears flicking. She wanted to refuse. Every instinct told her this was a bad idea. But the amiirad’s words were so reasonable, so gentle… and the thought of being seen as the one who helped the princess show goodwill was strangely tempting.

After a long, conflicted pause, she exhaled.

…Very well, amiirad, she murmured. But only for a short time. And if anything feels wrong, we leave immediately.
Satakhetem’s smile deepened, satisfied and regal.

Of course.

Together, the two of them left the dusk-painted chamber — the tall, imperious princess and the reluctant mazoi — striding down the corridor toward the music and golden light of the wedding celebration.

She would be certain not to let her attention wane from the godly woman.