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-5-
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    B reakfast was nothing special the next morning, though Helena awoke earlier than usual.
    The sun was streaming through the open curtains – which was how she always had them – just as the morning birds began to chirp their greeting to the dawn. She felt a little like she’d walked into a princess movie, what with the trilling birds and being in a palace and pursued by a prince with burning eyes and hands that were a little grabbier than they probably should have been.
    But she wasn’t.
    This was real, and she was in the middle of what had, apparently, become a coup.
    How do I get myself into these things ? She wondered as she twisted over onto her naked belly and stretched herself like a cat. Her hips her back and her shoulders all popped satisfyingly as she yawned. The smell of thick, heavily roasted coffee wafted through the harem’s common room where she knew she’d find breakfast in just a moment. For now though she was alone, and the world was still and silent except for the chirps.
    For just a moment, Helena wasn’t worried about the prince or the old drunken king, or the weird Englishman, or any of that. She was just in the moment, exercising her muscles, feeling the delicious stretches deep in her joints, and looking forward to that breakfast. Pastries, I hope. I could really do with some date tarts or a quiche . A laugh escaped her lips.
    It was pointed at herself. She couldn’t believe how ridiculous her life had become. Morning with birds chirping at her through silk curtains; the best coffee in the world freshly roasted and brewed alongside a pile of flaky, fruit-filled pastries and pretty much anything else she could possibly want. It was decidedly different from waking up on the farm at home and having to hope there was enough condensation to water the cotton that day, or that the oil was pumping and there hadn’t been any accidents.
    She missed it though. Missed her sisters, missed her mother and her father. She even missed her older brother Satala, though he only came home on holidays and she barely knew him. He was almost twice her age. Funny thing, how babies can just... pop up when you least expect them.
    Thinking of her brother almost immediately turned Helena’s thoughts to her sweet prince. Had Arad been serious? Would he really do all those wild things he’d said? She was just a common girl with fairly generous hips and a nose she’d preferred was a bit smaller – why would a prince care enough about her to profess his love like Arad had done and then go just short of threatening treason for her?
    Actually, thinking back, he’d gone just past promising treason.
    She shook her head.
    “Good morning, Maret,” she said in her cheeriest voice as the older woman shuffled in. It was hardly dawn, and the matron was already perfectly made up, flawlessly dressed in purple and yellow silks that hung across her bosom in a loosely draped X shape. Her face was dotted with tattoos – very old ones – that showed off her experience. The facial tattoos weren’t done anymore, they were an old tradition from a time far in the past. They’d faded some with the years, but were still plainly visible dots of color in the lines of her matron’s cheeks and in the shape of a sunburst above each eyebrow.
    “The whispers have already started, child,” Maret said in a hushed, harried tone. She pulled the curtain closed and crossed the room quickly. “What have you done?”
    Taken aback, Helena pulled her blankets up around her breasts and furrowed her brow. “I... I’m not sure what you’re talking about? I did just what I was supposed to do. I waited for the king’s summons, and when I went to him, I did what he wanted.”
    “Which was?”
    “He was well along drunk,” Helena said softly, as though the king’s appetite for wine was any secret whatever. “But he was complaining of pain in his legs, said it was from riding—just like you said,” she added for