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than I.

Endless hours turned into endless days awaiting your arrival, awaiting word of your victory. But none came as nights grew longer and days shorter. Despair crept like a plague through my being, and each day that passed the gleaming blade of the bejeweled dagger looked ever tempting.

"I will not be held responsible for your foolishness.” Kivar, sweet, insufferable Kivar, his clip tone pulls me from self-imposed misery.

"Has word come?" I set my paint brush down to look upon him with hope and when he shakes his head the wound in my chest bleeds a little more.

"How are you feeling?"

"I could be better." I rest my hand along the slight bump of my abdomen. 
 
    What an uproar it had caused when the court had finally come to the realization. How furious Krea had been when she’d seen my delicate condition and how protectively Somia had come to my aid when she demanded I abort it.

Kivar has been a constant form of comfort. Odd that he seemed even more protective of me in your absence. He, along with Somia have rallied to my side in the face of the resentment from nearly everyone in the palace.

"How is the child?" he walks behind me, his eyes fixed on the portrait I have drawn, one in the hundreds of you.

"Growing."

"Yes, well come inside, the air grows cold." I accept his help in guiding me to back to palace.

Dinners, I ate with your second wife, who prompted me to call her Somia.  In our mutual anguish of missing you, we’ve formed a tentative friendship. We spoke, but never of you. We spoke of her home in Sry, of my art, of everything and nothing, but never of you. She treated me with the respect not many concubines received from her, maybe because I was your favorite. Within her company I was an equal, we laughed and teased as if we were long lost friends, as if I have known her all of my life. Her malice was non-existent when I spoke of my child. She only smiled and regarded me with something akin to envy but never malice.

 
    ***
     
    I come awake with a gasp, my hand flies to my abdomen. Something isn’t right. Another gasp escapes me, my heart crashes against my ribcage upon the initial blast to the palace walls. I’m instantly out of bed, racing towards my chamber door.
    Chaos greets me. Screams, cries of despair pours from every direction. The inhabitants of the palace are in a panic as they scramble to escape the havoc. I hold tightly to the frame of the door as another tremor hits.

"Lealin!" Kivar races towards me. He hastens me along as he wraps a hooded cloak around me. 

"What is happening?" I scream over the cacophony, but he does not answer. We’re running like life depends on it. My heart races painfully in my chest but I grit my teeth and keep up with Kivar’s long strides.
 
    We stop suddenly and we hide in a small alcove. He keeps me behind him, my back to the wall he turns and puts a finger to his lips. I nod anxiously. We listen to their approaching footfalls, their booted feet trudging through the debris. Fear like ice cold water sloshes through my veins rendering immobile. I can’t breathe and with aching desperation I try to combat the haziness of my vision. The blood is rushing to my head and I know I’m going to faint. 
     
    "Not now.” Kivar whispers harshly. I pray to the deity to give me reprieve and sigh with relief when it passes.
 
    We wait for an eternity after their receding steps before emerging from our hiding spot and racing in the opposite direction of where the rebels had gone. It was an endless maze, an endless turn of stairs and dark corners when we finally made our way to the servant quarters. We were almost free, nearly at the entrance when Kivar’s unyielding grip slackens.
 
    They’d found us and subdued Kivar. Through the bevy of rebels he screamed for me to keep going, turn and run and leave him to this unknown fate. But I couldn’t and that was my ultimate downfall.
 
    Something sharp and wet darted through the layer of the cloak