Yes,Azul answered the snake in her sleeve.It was curious, taking in every piece of culture she could feed it.But her mind was preoccupied, trying to see what her next course of action should be.The creature slid up her arm, its head peeking up from her collar.
So you will wed?It asked.
Click.
She stared absentmindedly at the garden around her, swaying lightly on the low-hanging swing attached to an old odara tree.It wasn’t the season for fruits, which had ruined her mood earlier that morning, but she soon found her mind wandering to nothing and to everything anyway, forgetting she had come all the way there from her isolated courtyard to find something sweet to eat.
That was the question: should she sit and see through the wedding?Or would running away prove more productive?Albeit more uncertain and certainly more dangerous.
Click.
Her gaze settled on an old well tucked away in the corner, mossy growth covering every inch of stone, and butterflies landing by the little pink flowers that dotted the edge.
Her father's instructions swirled in her mind.
Seduce the warlord.
Why?She would be his main wife, wouldn't she?What use would seducing him do?Wasn't it better for him to see her as a sexless creature who could manage his household and maybe give him a son?
Click.
You’ll need the Okpalaeze to protect you.
From what?
Click.
Why do they want to kill him?
She mulled over her conversation with her father over and over, trying to pin the truth down with the little she had extracted from him.
Why must you drag me into your schemes?She asked.
Why did he trust that she would behave?That she would go along with his plans for her?Perhaps it was because he could clearly see she had no other options.
Click.
A sound cut through her thoughts.
Singing.
Azul's fingers stilled on the beads.The voice was low and melodic, carrying through the garden from somewhere deeper in the grove.The words weren't Borjigin—they sounded, from memory, like one of the nine tongues of the Steppes, with consonants that clicked and vowels that stretched like honey.
She rose from the swing, unconsciously following the sound.Curiosity was unlike her; she liked to keep to herself and ignore strange happenings.But not this time.
The garden expanded as she walked, giving way to a clearing she'd never seen before.An odara orchid formed a canopy overhead, dappling the sunlight and protecting them from the harsh sun.Under one particularly large tree, seated on a red woven mat, was the Fourth Wife.
She didn't look up as Azul approached.Her attention was fixed on the board before her.The grid was larger than go's nineteen lines, the intersections marked with symbols Azul didn't recognise.Pieces in black and white sat at various points, but they weren't uniform—each was carved into a distinct shape: strongholds, gers, towers, and battalions.
"Ukhel Dain," the Fourth Wife said without looking up."Do you know it?"
Death’s dance…Azul stopped at the edge of the mat."I've heard the name."
"That's not what I asked."The Fourth Wife moved a piece—the smaller group of soldiers, leaping three intersections."Do you know it?"
Azul’s eyes narrowed."No."
"Most people who claim they do are lying.It’s a game of the Steppes, often played in royal courts.Naturally you wouldn’t know much about it."She finally looked up, and her eyes were the colour of aged bronze—warm, but with a shrewd edge that made Azul cautious."Sit.I won't bite."
