Emissary by Fiona McIntosh Page B

to cook the fish on the banks of the Daramo River, that flowed into the Faranel. It was on these same shores that the aidelost his tongue for his trouble and the Zar lost his life. The poison was swift but not fast enough to prevent immense suffering as the vicious toxin gradually claimed every inch of his body with paralysis. By the time his shocked party got the Zar back into the city, all of his major organs had burst and he was bleeding from his nostrils, ears, mouth, and was dead before he could even be laid in his chamber.
    This story had always stayed with Herezah, not so much because of the colourful tale itself but because of this particular Zar. It amazed her that, despite this Zar’s predisposition to punish his servants without mercy, for something so innocent as trying to offer him protection, he nonetheless had a deep soft spot for his stepbrothers and had refused his mother’s pleas to execute them as each new Zar had done before him. Herezah felt fortunate that Boaz had still been immature enough that he could not prevent the actions she took on his behalf to ensure no heirs remained after Joreb’s death. That said, Zar Koriz’s compassion for his siblings had worked in her favour, for his favourite brother was Joreb and it was Joreb who took the throne, eyes still wet from weeping over his lost brother. It was Joreb who had chosen her from all in the harem for special consideration. Yes, she had plenty to thank the poisoned Zar for. Joreb’s mother was more successful in insisting on traditional rights and the remaining stepbrothers were swiftly dealt with. Herezah was glad that herJoreb had found the courage to deal with his rivals, unlike his brother Koriz.
    The new Valide, however, chose not to dismantle the harem, for the girls were still so young and new. Joreb inherited his brother’s harem and with it came a precocious girl called Herezah.
    She hadn’t been in this chamber since that fateful day when the old Valide’s stern gaze had fallen upon her and chosen her within seconds of that first glance. Her fate was sealed with that woman’s glare, although her destiny—like any woman of the harem—was her own to carve.
    And carve it I did, she thought now, pride catching in her throat as she saw her son enter the room. He looked taller, more imposing, and there was more colour in his cheeks. He was obviously getting out a lot more now than in his days as a prince. He also looked miserable. She wrongly presumed that his grim expression was all about fear of what he was about to witness. He was always a squeamish one, she thought, as he bent to take her hand.
    ‘Mother,’ he acknowledged, kissing her hand and placing it on his chest, in the formal way.
    She felt a shiver of delight. He was certainly making a fuss with such a show of affection. Just being invited to this private event had been enough and she was going to put this morning’s pointed discussion behind them. She had overreacted, she was sure. ‘Darling, I’m sorryabout my mood earlier. Forgive me. And thank you for sharing this with me,’ she said smoothly.
    To her surprise he waved away her apology as if it had not troubled him. ‘I can’t promise a fun afternoon, I’m afraid,’ he said, falling heavily into his chair beside her. ‘This is duty, not my idea of entertainment.’
    Herezah was secretly pleased to know he continued to put duty ahead of his fears, but she knew she needed to say the right words to his admission. ‘Then where is your clingy clown? Surely your court jester should be here alongside you to provide that entertainment,’ she replied, and then, contriving still more concern, she looked to where the Grand Vizier stood patiently. ‘Tariq, where is the dwarf?’
    The Vizier glided towards the royal couple and bowed. She hadn’t seen him in several weeks and, although this was a man in his senior years, he looked more dashing than she could have imagined. His beard was neatly groomed, not oiled, and