Despite Imḫullu's words of reassurance, there had been a bit of a pall over their return trip. Aphora couldn't blame him. She knew her distrust had hurt him; she even recognized that she was probably being paranoid, but the mere thought of following his plan, of sneaking herself into Dūr-Adû as his slave, as a gift for the enemy Sidhe, was enough to make her heart seize up.

She just couldn't do it, no matter how clever the plan was, or how much she wanted to trust Imḫullu. The Sidhes' reputation for trickery and cruelty was too well earned and Imẖullu, in his days as the Sidhe warlord Meḫawwu, had played a crucial role in earning that reputation.

But while it was clear her paramour's feelings were hurt, his gentle care for her hadn't changed and she found herself once again wondering if it could really be true. Could a Sidhe love an elf? Or was it all a ruse to get what he wanted, that redemption he seemed to crave? She'd heard his dreams of restoring his people, and part of her wondered if she was nothing more than a broodmare to him, one that would be dropped as soon as she had delivered the desired heirs.

Her fears, though, weren't strong enough to overcome her feelings for him. She was falling for him, as more than just a partner beneath the sheets, and she hated it. Nothing good had ever come of love but, unfortunately, that couldn't stop her rebellious heart. Thus she was almost sad when they returned to the gate of her realm. After weeks in the wild, she couldn't wait to take a bath and soak her weary limbs, but…she didn't want to say goodbye.

"...and I'll try to devise a new plan to take the city."

Aphora realized she had missed something. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

A roguish smile lit up the Sidhe's face, and he leaned over teasingly. "Well, you agreed we should move in together. I warned you your people might not like a Sidhe as prince-consort, but since you're sure, who am I to reject my lady's wishes?"

"Haha," Aphora rolled her eyes. "They already barely tolerate Qas̆pa; I can't even imagine how they'd react if you showed up."

"You know," the Sidhe sobered up. "You're going to have to do something about that. I understand that we can never be together like that in front of your people - there's just too much bad blood - but our children can't be allowed to suffer."

"Children? Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself there? Our child isn't even born yet."

"Well I don't intend to stop," Imḫullu smirked.

"Of course you don't - you're not the one who has to bear them," Aphora fired back, though without any real heat. He started to reply, but Aphora didn't give him the chance. "But it won't be a problem; as long as they don't know about you, it won't even cross their minds that our child is anything other than half-human, which they won't mind."

"They shouldn't have to be ashamed of their heritage," Imẖullu countered irritability.

That's up to you. Aphora bit back the hasty reply; no good could come of this discussion, especially when it still remained purely hypothetical. Instead, she tried to get the conversation back on track. "But you distracted me; what were you actually saying?"

Imḫullu frowned at the sudden change of topic, but he answered the question. "I was asking what your plans were for returning to Dūr-Adû, assuming you still wish to help the elves there."

"Of course I am. Now that I know they're there, there's no way I could leave them to suffer," she replied. It wasn't entirely true, though; while she did want to help the enslaved elves, her last attempt to help her people had ended in the deaths of thousands and the sack of a city. Would it be wiser to just let them be? she wondered, but she shoved aside the craven thought. No one deserved the treatment the elves received in Dūr-Adû.

"I assumed as much," the tension in Imḫullu's face drained as he flashed her another of his signature smirks. "But since you weren't happy to play along with my plan to catch Uzzîl by surprise, we'll have to take the city the hard way."

And risk losing more of my people in battle. Aphora sighed, cradling her belly with her hand. She was nearing six months already and while pregnancy would hardly prevent her from casting spells, she wasn't willing to venture onto a battlefield at this point. "We'll have to wait till after the baby comes," she decided. "In the meantime, I'll consult with Tōrin and Mullu-Lim about strategies. I don't want to force my people to risk their lives for these elves, but I'm sure I can find some volunteers to assist us if I explain the situation. Even some of the Fey are likely to agree," she added. "What about you?"

"As far as aid goes, I'm afraid you'll have to make do with yours truly," Imḫullu snorted. "I disbanded my armies when I ceased to be Mehawwu, and while there are some who might answer if I sent the call, it wouldn't be worth the risk. Our best outcome, if you want to save the remaining elves, is if we pull this off with no one realizing I helped you. If word gets out…it could start a war we don't want to mess with," he admitted.

"Should we go without you then, if the risk is so great?"

"No!" he replied hastily. "I will not let you risk your life like that."

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"You won't let me?" her voice lowered dangerously. "I'll have you know, I am more than capable of-"

Imḫullu cut her off. "You can take offense all you want, but you won't be going without me."

"Why not?" she demanded. "I was one of the most powerful mages in the Empire-"

"I'm not besmirching your power, my lady," he said. "Do you think I would have been interested in you if you were some mewling milkmaid? But you do not understand Uzzîl's power."

"Yes, if the rumors are true, he has allowed himself to fall into ruin, but Uzzîl was one of my comrades. Our enemies were not mages - they were gods. You are not ready to face him, Aphora. I will take care of Uzzîl; you need worry only about the rest of the city."

Imhullu's words stung her pride, but Aphora knew there was truth to them. She already knew she couldn't beat Imḫullu, so why had she been so quick to think she stood a chance against his former lieutenant? "I just don't want to start a war."

"And that is why I will not be calling on my old comrades," he replied firmly. "But the rest of your plan was good."

Grabbing hold of her hands, he turned her to him and bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Take care of our child, consult with your advisors, and when you're ready, let me know. In the meantime, I shall scout out Dūr-Adû. Perhaps if my old friend has fallen far enough, I will not even need your help."

"Now who's the one taking risks?"

He brushed her accusation off with a chuckle. "You don't need to worry about me, Aphora. For now," he placed a gentle hand on her belly, "this is all you need to worry about. Everything else can wait."

As much as she wanted to be annoyed with him, Aphora melted into his kiss, losing track of time until he finally pulled away. "What's wrong," she asked.

Amusement danced in his eyes as he pointed behind her. "It seems you have a most eager greeting party, my lady. Till next time."

She had only half-turned when a small body collided with hers, wrapping its arms around her waist. "Momma - you're back!"

Aphora ran a fond hand through the girl's lilac locks, which had grown thick and frizzy from the moist air of the plains. "Did you do your hair today, Qas̆pa?" she asked, hiding her amusement as the girl froze.

"Uh-"

"You might as well just admit it, lass - she already knows," a gruff voice cut in from the portal door, and Aphora greeted her commander, Mullu-Lim, with a smile.

"Ah, so you're the one she suckered into coming here." She paused as she noticed there was a third person present, a small boy lurking in Mullu-Lim's shadow.

Like many elven children, his long blonde hair flowed past his shoulders, hiding his pointed ears and the small nubs that had likely only begun to grow. There was clear fear in his bright blue eyes as he realized she was looking at him, and he hastily inclined his head to the side in respect. "My-my lady."

Aphora frowned as she studied the child, realizing she didn't recognize him. While she hadn't spent much time with the children of her courtiers, she was certain she knew all who had lived in their compound in Gis̆-Izum, which meant the child likely belonged to one of the families that had lived deep in the wilderness, a supposition supported by the boy's clean but threadbare garments.

"I-I'm sorry." The boy's eyes filled with tears as he misinterpreted her frown, and Qas̆pa tugged on her dress impatiently.

"Mother, don't scare my friend."

"Friend?" She made a friend?! Aphora positively beamed as the beckoned the child forward. She'd tried time and again to put an end to Qas̆pa's bullying, but there were some problems a queen couldn't fix - not unless she was willing to start chopping bullies' heads off. "Come, child, tell me your name."

"He's Marti," Qas̆pa answered for the boy.

"Mar-ti?" Aphora quirked her brow inquisitively. That was hardly an elven name. Selene's Grace, it wasn't even a Corsythian name.

Having recovered a bit of courage, the boy emerged from behind Mullu-Limmu. "I'm Mār-Tilpānu, my lady," he said uncertainly.

His father's one of my huntsmen then, she guessed from his name.

"It's just Marti," Qas̆pa said exasperatedly, and Aphora ruffled her hair with a laugh. "And how did you two meet?"

"We met in the, uh-" Aphora narrowed her eyes as Qas̆pa was struck by a sudden loss of words.

"In uh what?" She pressed suspiciously.

"In the forest," Mullu-Limmu spoke up, "when she nearly got killed by a parriṣu."

"Limmy," the girl whined.

"What did you say?" Aphora's hand paused mid-caress, and she looked down at Qas̆pa. "Did you go into the forest by yourself, again? After you promised?"

"I…I…," the girl's lip quivered. "I only promised to be careful," she pled her case, "and I was. I saved Marti's life."

Aphora looked to her command, who nodded gravely. "From the way the lad told it, he was all but a goner until she showed up and wounded the beast enough that it fled."

So he was playing in the woods too. Aphora's eyes flitted to the lad with a touch of concern. Qas̆pa was already reckless enough; she hardly needed someone else to goad her into shenanigans. On the other hand…she saw the boy shift nervously, once again seeming on the point of tears and decided she might be jumping to conclusions. Perhaps there was a good reason he was in the woods.

Suffocating a sigh, she turned her attention back to Qas̆pa, clucking her tongue in dismay. "Whatever shall I do with you, child? Twice now you have nearly died in the woods. Are you trying to break my heart?"

The girl hung her head guilty. "I won't go into the woods by myself," she promised, but Aphora shook her head.

"I'm afraid we're past the point of promises, Qas̆pa. From now on, you will go nowhere without letting me, Mullu-Limmu, or Tōrin know where you are - understood?"

She nodded gravely, tears trembling in her eyes, and Aphora's heart melted. "Good," she said, wrapping her up in a hug. "Then we need not speak of it further. Now come," she added with a smile, "if we hurry, there is still time for the cooks to whip up a feast for tonight."

"Can Marti come?" Qas̆pa begged.

The boy's eyes widened in shock, and he quickly shook his head, but Aphora regarded him with an amused smile. "Of course - what kind of mother would I be if I didn't get to know your friends?"

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