Azul didn't miss it.
"There's news from the northern Steppes," Borji said slowly, as if watching his every word."A warlord called Orda Naiman has been making quite a ruckus.His actions have displaced a great many people, and it's upsetting the tribes of the Grass Sea.Refugees are flooding west."
Azul's interest sharpened."How long ago did this happen?"
"Perhaps half a year?Maybe more.News travels slowly from the Main Continent.The trade routes aren't secure enough for regular communication."
Azul mused, trying to recollect the little she knew.A warlord was a strange entity.Technically, they were tribe leaders, but they held no social standing amongst others.They conquered without care and caused great devastation.
Warlords had no allies—only enemies or servants.They enslaved without care and stole their wealth; they had no noble bloodline nor were they part of a large tribal banner by blood.That kind of life often meant an early death.
Warlords wedded slaves, not free women.
"Half a year," Azul murmured, filing the information away.Then she set down her bowl on her lap and looked at him directly."So what was it that made you panic just now?"
Borji stiffened."I don't know what you mean."
"When I asked about rumours, what was it?"
"I didn't panic."
"Borji."
He was silent.
"I won't be upset," Azul said quietly."Just tell me."
He let out a long breath and looked away."People are saying things.About you."
"What kind of things?"
He scrunched his face like a child unwilling to speak.
"Stop that; I need to know what's going on, or I'll keep being thrown around by your very darling Imperial Mothers."
Borji rolled his eyes."The only one who has that title is the Ugoeze; everyone is just my father's wife.But I understand your concern.The public seems to think you were bought to please the Igwe as a lesser wife.Instead, you seduced the Okpalaeze.Ambitious bed climber.It seems your beauty is being spoken about along the lines of a curse to befall the tribe."He finally met her eyes."A whore playing at being a princess."
Azul didn't react outwardly, but there was a slight tremor in her hand as her spoon shook against the ceramic bowl, making soft clinking noises.
"I see," she whispered.
The thing was, Azul didn't care personally about the court of public opinion.She had no interest in being liked by people who despised her.
But she wasn't stupid enough to think reputation wasn't a resource.
Her father had told her once: if one wishes to build an army, they need one of three things—great wealth, great reputation, or great power.
She had none of those things.
And now they were poisoning the one she might’ve been able to build relatively easily.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest, dry and mildly amused.
"It seems I must not be lenient," she said.
Something in her smile made Borji shift uncomfortably."Azul…"
"Tell me about Iyom's maternal family."
