"I mean ascension."She gestured at the board, at the single white piece isolated in its corner."You're so focused on the pieces around you that you've forgotten the edges of the board.The game doesn't end at the border.It extends beyond what's visible.And sometimes—" She moved a piece Azul hadn't noticed, a singular tower so far to the edge it was almost off the grid."The winning move is to leave the game entirely."
Azul stared at the board, at the tower hovering at the edge of nothing.
"The warlord," she said slowly."You're telling me to marry him."The fourth path was the same as the third.
"I'm telling you to choose him.Not as a sacrificial lamb, but as a path.A way to ascend."The Fourth Wife began gathering her pieces, her movements unhurried."Ever since I was a child, the Grass Sea has been brutal and full of men who kill without thought and women who die without names to be remembered.But they're also outside.Beyond the reach of the Ugoeze, the Iyom, the Okpalaeze, your father.Beyond the reach of everyone who thinks they own you."
"And if I go there and die anyway?"
"Then you die having chosen your death.That's more than most people get."She stood, tucking the folded board under her arm, the pieces clinking softly in their box.
The fourth path was the same as the third, but she had the opportunity to take her own life by the reins.
The Fourth Wife turned to leave.
"Fourth Wife."Azul's voice stopped her."Can I take your board?I will pay!"
The woman looked back over her shoulder, and a beautiful smile graced her lips.
"We are sisters here," she said."If you wish it, you can have it; payment should never be discussed between us."
Azul stood, and the snake stirred in her sleeve, restless.She bowed at the waist, "Thank you for your guidance."
Her heart had been deeply unsettled by how helpless she felt, but there was a way forward: an unknown horse to an unknown destination.Death was not her only path.
"Akwaugo, I hope you find happiness.A game like Ukhel Dain is deadly, but as long as you wish to play, there will always be a game board set before you, there will always be enemies to face, but there will always be a chance to win."
A smile graced Azul’s face, and she looked up.Her eyes widened, the garden before her seemingly empty.The breeze picked up, dislodging smaller leaves from their trees, and her hair was taken with it.All that remained before her was a compacted game board.
Host…the little snake called out to her.Azul raised her sleeve, looking at the nervous creature.
"Are you hungry?"Azul asked.She figured it was best to feed it regularly so it wouldn't be so small forever.
Azul had met the Fourth Wife once four years ago, on the day she wedded the Igwe.
She'd been fifteen; having sneaked out to visit the market, she had pulled her cloak over her hair and clutched a list of herbs tightly.Her youngest sister, Kamsi, had begged to come—eleven years old and convinced that anywhere her older sister went was an adventure—and so Azul relented and let the girl join her after shaving down her horns.
The market was chaotic that day.More than usual.
Criers had been running through the streets since dawn, announcing the procession route, warning traders to clear the way, and demanding that commoners kneel and avert their eyes when the Igwe's new wife passed.Kamsi had been thrilled—A real Steppe princess, she whispered, tugging Azul's sleeve—but Azul had only felt irritated at how disorganised her day had suddenly become.The herbs she needed would be picked over by the time the procession ended.
They positioned themselves at the edge of the crowd, near a spice seller whose stall offered partial shade.Kamsi climbed onto a stack of baskets for a better view, and Azul let her.Her sister squealed when the drummers first appeared, their rhythms shaking dust from the awnings above.
Eventually, the sedan came into view.
It was massive—carried by twelve men, draped in crimson and gold, surrounded by guards whose eyes swept the crowd with suspicion.The curtains were partially open, offering glimpses of the woman inside.
She sat rigid in the decorated cage; her posture was perfect, her hands folded in her lap.Her face was painted in the Borjigin style—white clay, red lips—but beneath it, her eyes were downcast.
Back then, she had looked up by chance, and their eyes met.
Azul wasn’t sure if the Fourth Wife remembered, but she did.
The litter passed grandly, and the moment ended.
"What was she like?"Kamsi pestered as they walked home with their purchases."The princess.Could you see her?"
"She looked pretty," Azul had said.
