Odalisque by Fiona McIntosh

She was right, of course. ‘I suspect not. It will go into the palace coffers and probably never be seen again or, worse, melted down. Iridor isn’t exactly a friend to our people.’
    ‘Pity he’s seen that way,’ she said sadly. ‘He’s always been our friend.’
    Lazar was taken aback by her words. He felt himself slightly lost for his own.
    Ana filled the awkward pause. ‘No, you keep it for me. Let it remind you of me and of our friendship.’
    Lazar pushed the bird into his pocket and took her hand. ‘I shall keep it safe for you,’ was all hewould risk saying. ‘Now, it’s time I took you to your new home.’
    ‘Lazar, don’t just keep it safe. Keep it near.’ She searched his face for some sort of confirmation that he understood her intensity.
    All he could do was nod gravely and that seemed to satisfy her.
    He hated every moment of the journey that brought them closer to the palace. With each step he felt that former sense of freedom, that release from the weight of his world, dissipate. With each stride he felt his shoulders hunch closer and his insides harden again once more, but this time it combined with a new sadness to ponder: Ana would be gone.
    They arrived at the palace gates. He announced himself and his charge at the Moon Courtyard and now he experienced a terrible sense of loss. It was official. Ana had arrived and been registered by name at the palace. There was no turning away now.
    She was palace property.

8
    Pez found Boaz alone in his chambers. Joreb had long ago given permission for the dwarf to access all areas of the palace—he was the only person in the entire retinue who had absolute freedom. Thus the guards were used to seeing him come and go as he pleased, whether it be to the Zar’s rooms or even the harem for that matter. He was the only intact male to visit the prized, most viciously protected place in the palace without any threat to his wellbeing.
    ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said. ‘Would you prefer to be alone with your sorrow?’
    ‘Do you know,’ Boaz said, ‘you’re the only one who has even considered that I might be grieving for my father. Everyone else is treating me as though I should get over it and get on with taking on my new role. My mother’s the worst. For her my grief is akin to a headache: something to sleep off with a mild soporific.’ The last few words were uttered with such disgust that Pez remained quiet. The boy was angry and entitled to be. ‘Don’t they understand? My fatherhas died! I loved him as any child loves their father.’
    Pez moved deeper into the room. ‘So how can we help you?’
    ‘I just want to be left alone,’ Boaz replied, sullen now. He had seated himself at a window and was gazing out across the harbour.
    Pez looked at the Zar and realised suddenly how tall his young friend was, and lean—as his father had been. But that was where the physical similarities ended. In looks Boaz was all Herezah: dark hair and eyes, with smooth olive skin. He possessed her strong, beautiful bone structure, and Pez imagined how hearts must already be fluttering in girls’ breasts at the thought of their new Zar.
    ‘You know that cannot happen, Boaz,’ Pez said gently. ‘One of the major attributes that everyone will be looking for in you is strength of character—’ He held his hand up to stop the Zar. ‘I know you possess this but you need to show it to all the royal watchers who are waiting to pounce on your weaknesses and prey on them.’
    ‘I don’t want to be happy yet,’ Boaz replied. His tone was haughty now. ‘It’s obscene to think I should sing and dance with my father’s body barely cold.’
    ‘I understand, truly I do, but you must demonstrate that you are strong. I don’t suggest you make merry, Boaz, but you must participate in palace life. Don’t withdraw. Be seen, benoticed. You don’t have to smile or give pretence at happiness. In fact it would be all the more powerful if you were grave. It