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“Oh, Consort Zysh, any luck today?" Behesh asked. The wyvern looked across the table both Srei and Esmal sat at. A few paces away passed Sisbul's consort—Srei had been so busy correcting Esmal's spelling she did not even notice. On the table were several different scrolls with various words and phrases of Srrketch written across them. The ink still glistened in the candlelight.

Zysh paused with two scroll casings under his arm. “The last histories I tried weren't much use. I'm hoping the life of Shiskhanna has better secrets in it than Sisbul's predecessor."

Esmal spoke up, “What are you looking for exactly?"

Zysh patted the casing. “A spell. One that can keep watch on one's enemies when they might plot against you." Then Zysh asked, “And I see your lessons in Srrketch are going well. I'm pleased to speak in my native tongue with you already."

Esmal touched Srei's knee under the table. “My retainer has been an excellent teacher. We are working on my spelling and…" Esmal struggled for the word in Srrketch and Srei whispered it to him, “grammar! Thank you Srei. I still have much to learn, as you can see."

“And Behesh?" Zysh asked, “You're helping, too?"

Behesh gave a throaty rumble of assent. “Teaching is one of my few joys, and fortunately Esmal does not get bored like the children I tutor."

“But he does need constant attention like one," Srei said with a grin directed at Esmal.

“Srei! I do not—"

“You do follow her around like a little hatchling," Behesh added.

Esmal scoffed and both Srei and Behesh got a laugh at his expense. Zysh chuckled, but remained politely distant from their revelry. He said, “I will leave you two to your charge. Be a good boy now, Esmal."

Zysh meant it as more harmless teasing before he left, but Srei leaned in and growled, “You heard him Esmal, be a good boy."

“Srei," Esmal warned, blushing while he felt her claws prick at his thigh.

Behesh made a polite cough to interrupt, which for a creature his size caused all the scrolls on the table to flutter and shift. “Should I give you two some privacy?" Behesh asked.

“Stay, please," Esmal said.

Srei kept her sultry look. “Esmal apparently doesn't mind an audience."

“Frankly, I wonder if he does. I can smell his embarrassment," Behesh teased.

“Oh you should have seen the heads he turned this morning at the baths with Zairsh—"

Esmal stood, scooting the bench backwards. “I need to go relieve myself."

Srei took mercy on Esmal and let him go without comment. Behesh chuckled, a throaty growl that always pleased Srei to hear. “You tease him too much, dear, and I'm afraid he will stop taking his lessons here," Behesh said.

“You encouraged me by teasing him, too," Srei said while she busied herself tidying the table Behesh had disturbed.

“Yes, well, I wasn't trying to make our poor prince hard under the table."

“You know I would never disturb the sanctity of this place."

“Oh you could, long as you are quiet and don't make a mess."

Srei smirked up at the wyvern. “We always make a mess."

“Hmmhmm, then by all means, keep that out of my library."

Srei sat back down and said, “We will. Esmal tells me he sees you every other morning now."

“Changing the subject?"

“I was just curious about your exchanges. You do not usually open up to reptiles, much less outsiders."

Behesh glanced around the bottom floor to see if Esmal was on his way back before he said, “Yes, well, most do not make a point of seeing me when I bathe."

Srei giggled. “But Esmal does. This morning he woke and when I complained he said, 'Come on Srei, I want to see Behesh before I go train.'"

Behesh grunted. “Most curious. Why do you think he has taken such an interest in me?"

“Oh come now, Behesh. It is because you're his friend."

“Friend?"

Srei stared at him a moment, and the wyvern remained totally impassive. She sometimes wondered if this thickness was just an act. “Like you and me?"

“I know…" Behesh said slowly, “I am… processing."

“What is there to process?"

“Much, given who Esmal is. Such as, do I now have a responsibility in convincing him to defend Srrket? If I befriend him how will it feel when he leaves forever?"

“Behesh…"

“What?" the wyvern cocked his head. “Did I say something wrong?"

Srei wrung her hands under the table so he could not see. “He won't leave here forever…"

“He has told you this?"

“No—I just…" Srei took a deep breath to figure out what she needed to say. “He loves it here. He's told me this is the first time in decades he's felt this happy… he won't give this up."

Behesh studied her for a long moment. Then, the wyvern said, “I admire your faith in him." It was a very diplomatic thing to say, and Srei knew Behesh well enough to know what was said under it: “I do not have the same faith in him."

But before Srei could challenge Behesh, Esmal loudly returned with, “Alright, I hope you two got that out of your system because we still have work to do." Srei exchanged a look with Behesh as Esmal took a seat. “Is something wrong?" Esmal asked.

Behesh said, “We were just having a friendly debate whose resolution remains unresolved."

“Oh…" but Esmal did not follow up because Srei squeezed his thigh. She was grateful he knew her well enough to change the subject, “Well, I'm sure it was interesting, but I still need to learn magic and to learn that I need Srrketch rolling off my tongue so…"

***

“So what happened between you and Behesh?" Esmal asked. They had taken a break to get lunch at one of the local dining halls. Walking there through the busy streets, Esmal carried a light sheen of sweat from the day's humid heat.

“Must we talk about it?" Srei asked in Savish, switching to the language for privacy's sake.

“You've been troubled for the last hour," Esmal told her. He touched the small of her back. “What is it?"

Srei stopped on the side of the road. A perturbed drake wove around them with a snort. Before Esmal could offer an “excuse us," Srei blurted, “Behesh thinks when the treaty is over, you will leave here and never return."

Esmal felt his usual happiness drain from his face. “Ah."

Srei's tail hugged around her legs. “Your reaction does not make me feel better."

Self-conscious of people having to walk around them, Esmal grabbed Srei's elbow and led them into a shaded alley between two adobe buildings. Esmal said, “Truly, Srei, I've been trying not to think about it."

Srei pulled her elbow out of his grip. “You've not thought about it? Then what is the point of all this training and learning?"

Both had avoided bringing up what happened when the treaty ended. Esmal cause he did not wish to think about his father or confronting him, and Srei because, Esmal realized, she believed in him a little too much.

“Srei this is supposed to help—"

“Supposed?"

Esmal took a step back from her, hands held up. “Listen Srei, I do not know how exactly I'll keep my father from invading. I had hoped Sisbul would help me figure that out, but we still have time. We can figure this out together."

Srei shuddered a little, and looked down the alley, away from him. She had hugged herself close and closed herself off to him. Esmal wanted to hold her, but was afraid she would push him away. She said, “But will you be coming back here?"

Esmal's throat became tight. He wanted, more than anything, to lie to her, but he knew he could not. “Srei… the best chance I have of protecting Srrket is from my home. Even with all the preparation Sisbul and you and everyone else might offer, if I'm not near the throne, I can't guarantee I can keep my father and others from threatening this land."

Srei's wounded look gutted him.

“If there is any other way to do this, Srei, I promise I—"

“I need some time alone… to think," she interrupted him.

“Srei you know no matter what—"

“No, Esmal, please. Go."

Go. Silent and sad and desolate. Worse than any of the stern rage his father ever hurled, because it came from the lips of someone he loved so deeply…

He had no clue what he could do for either of them, so he left. A pit hollowed out in his stomach, grief like termites working through a rotting tree. Lunch and lessons forgotten, he headed back to the palace.

***

Esmal lay sprawled on his bed, sweating in the late summer heat for some indeterminate amount of time. An ache in his ribs weighed like stones piled high on his chest. He did not move, and he could not bring himself to weep. He remained inert, mulling his predicament.

It was, now that he considered it, the only way to protect Srrket. To keep friends and lovers safe, he would need to be in Savish, at the frontlines of their endless wars, so he might steer them away from here. Esmal could not simply kill his father and ascend the throne. Such a coup would require the backing of Imad's most trusted generals and vassals, and Esmal, the loyal son, had never cultivated their favor for such a thing to be feasible. Esmal was well liked and loved by the people, but for Esmal to return and try to take the throne… He would need power like Sisbul's and a retinue willing to die for him. He had neither, and such a ploy would quickly end with him overthrown and Imad a martyred emperor. Esmal could see it now: a campaign of vengeance against Srrket by whoever took power next—whether it was one of Esmal's younger brothers governing vassal states or one of Imad's generals.

No, Esmal did not know a way to resolve any of this. It was endless, bloody conflict. And even if Esmal wished to no longer be a monster, the best he could do is sacrifice himself to save those he cared most about. The span of the treaty felt far too brief and fragile. Esmal did not know what to do or tell Srei. He thought back to the night before they entered the capital. Then, as now, he did not know a way to keep Srei by his side without endangering her life or taking away her freedom.

The thought of losing her made Esmal sick. His throat stung, and he wanted to cry. Nothing came, though. Just sweat, inert grey grief and this ache on his chest. Tomorrow he was supposed to meet Sisbul for dinner. Esmal did not know how he could possibly face the steward.

A sharp knock on Esmal's door broke him from his spiral. Thinking, hoping it was Srei, Esmal rushed to the door. When he opened it, the first thing he saw were the twin punctures of Sisbul's mating bite. The tattoo-like pale scar that marked someone a consort. This one on a brown shoulder of a python. Zysh waited at his door, holding a tea tray. He said, “I heard you were in your rooms, and wondered if I might take tea with you."

It was not something Esmal wanted, but he had no reason to tell Zysh no. The prince opened the door wider and gestured inside, “By all means, come in." Esmal's voice felt strained and odd in his throat.

Zysh dipped his head in acknowledgement before coming in. Esmal followed Zysh to the table along the wall and sat down while the naga poured them each a cup. The python dressed much like Sisbul did when around the palace: gold adornments on wrists, neck, piercings on Zysh's brow. He wore a dusky eyeshadow as well. His physique and size was barely smaller than Sisbul's, which meant he towered over Esmal.

He said, “Your retainer is not with you today?"

Esmal said, “She is… out in the city. Getting some time for herself."

“Ah, I see," Zysh's tone told Esmal he sensed something amiss, but Zysh did not press. “I hope you do not mind my impromptu visit, then."

“It is fine. Any luck finding that spell you wanted?" Esmal changed the subject as he took the steaming cup from Zysh. He gave it a cursory sniff, getting a smoky flavor from the dark liquid.

“I did actually," Zysh said before making a pleased hiss. “I crafted and casted it not long ago."

Esmal said, “Oh, and it is done?"

“It is ongoing. I will need to recast it every day to maintain it, but for the foreseeable future, any time the objects of my spell plot against myself or Srrketch, I shall know and be privy to what it is they say." Zysh took a delicate sip from his cup and sighed. “It is so pleasing to see plans come together, dear prince."

“Do you think my father is already plotting something?"

The naga chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh no, it was not him I cast the spell on. It was you." Esmal gawked, and Zysh added, “Well, you and your retainer."

Zysh took another cheerful sip of tea while Esmal struggled for words. “Um… excuse me?"

The reason Zysh had paid Esmal a visit now felt much more sinister. “Oh come now, dear Esmal, Sisbul might give you the benefit of the doubt, but that does not mean I must, especially when the stakes are so high."

Esmal stared at his tea. A few leaves inside the cup swirled along the surface, bloated with hot water. He did not want to believe this was happening. Esmal cleared his throat and asked, “Why, uh, are you telling me this? Wouldn't it serve you better for me to not know?"

“Oh but you must, it is the only way I can trust you to play your part." Zysh's matter-of-factness kept Esmal on edge and guessing.

He leaned back, all sorts of emotions boiling in his stomach. “What part?"

Zysh did not answer him. He said, “Tell me, Prince Esmal, what is it you think you will do to protect Srrket when the time comes?"

“I…" painfully, Esmal admitted to his tea cup, “I don't know."

“Sisbul and I thought we might train you and perhaps give you the skills to give your father a change of heart," Zysh said. “It was a gamble. One, after seeing your stay here and considering the vision Sisbul had of you, I do not believe will pay off."

Broken, defeated, Esmal rasped, “I've also had my doubts."

Zysh reclined backwards on his coils, holding his cup still. He gestured with it, “You see my point. I have a backup plan. One that, in the long run, will save our people, and I need your help for it to succeed."

Nervous, Esmal finally looked up at Zysh to show his resolve. “What must I do?"

“Help me stage a bloodless coup."

Esmal stared at the naga and his narrow smile. “You are joking."

“No joke," Zysh said. “I told you I met your father on my return to Srrketch. That encounter was intentional. Emperor Imad and I have reached an agreement, if I hand him over Srrketch, he will let me govern the lands while Sisbul remains imprisoned in Savish custody. The steward will live, of course, as his connection to Shkanna will fuel both yours and your father's vitality, allowing you both to expand your empire and reign far beyond human boundaries. Srrketch will offer Savish tribute and we will adopt some of the empire's customs, but retain a level of autonomy compared to the other nations your great empire has conquered."

Esmal's jaw worked up and down before words finally formed, “And does Sisbul know about this?"

Zysh sighed. “Yes, that is the thorny part of this." He leaned forward and set his cup down, leering over Esmal now. “My other half would never go for a plan where we might have to sacrifice some of our ways in order to preserve our people. The spiritual matters more to him than our material lives. Our people hang on a precipice, Esmal. You want to save them, too, don't you?"

Esmal was trembling. He thought, he had hoped, longed to be free from his father, but what Zysh told him made it sound like the best thing he could do was remain his father's puppet for the length of the steward's life. For an unthinkable amount of time.

“The spell you cast," Esmal said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You want to make sure this stays between us."

“Let's just say, should I catch word that you try to tell Sisbul or Tezz or anyone not loyal to me, that there are many other spells I know but have never used. Ones that your retainer would be an excellent subject to test them on."

“You leave Srei out of this!" Esmal snapped. He rose to his full height and glared at the unmoved naga. “If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

“Dear boy, who said anything about hurting?" Zysh laughed and flashed his fangs. “I would kill her, of course."

Esmal leapt across the table like pouncing jaguar. Zysh caught Esmal in mid-air, one hand closed around his throat while the other grabbed Esmal's armpit. Zysh swung Esmal around with the grace of a dancer and slammed the prince into the wall. For the first time, Zysh's voice lost its pleasantries, and he growled, “You would do well, prince, to work on your table manners."

Esmal dealt with Sisbul enough times to know not to struggle against that brute strength. He spat on Zysh's face. Zysh hissed and let go of Esmal's arm, punching him in the sternum. He practically caved in Esmal's chest. Zysh dropped him on the ground and said, “You know what the beauty of magic is, Esmal?" Esmal struggled to his knees, coughing too much to answer. Zysh yanked his head up by the hair. “I can beat the sense into you and then just heal you so no one has to know. All the pain you're about to feel, imagine that a thousand times over for your retainer if you think to resist my plans."

Zysh pulled Esmal into the air by his hair, and the next thing he knew were sinuous coils wrapping around him. The naga trapped his arms in a vice grip before squeezing Esmal till he was breathless. He felt his ribcage strain. He cried out, but his scream was strangled. Zysh left Esmal's face exposed, striking it. The naga did not laugh or seem to take pleasure in this. He just rained down blow after blow till blood dripped across the naga's coils. Each strike a sharp explosion of pain while his body strained. Then Esmal heard something snap in his arm. One final blow to his temple came before darkness overtook him.

***

Srei knocked on the door to Esmal's rooms, and politely waited for some kind of response. When none came, she creaked open the door. It was dusk, and their shared room was dark. Srei whispered, “Esmal?" Nothing seemed amiss. She stepped inside and saw a lump on the bed. Esmal slept on his front, hair tousled but otherwise he seemed fine.

She sat at the edge of the bed, and rested a hand on his back. She whispered, “Today was hard. I don't like being mad at you, you know." She knew Esmal would not hear her or wake, but she felt the need to tell him now what she felt. Perhaps, it would make things easier when the prince did wake.

“Esmal, I told you once that I would follow you into war, and I still will. I do not want to lose you, and I doubt in four and half years I will feel any different. If I'm as brilliant as you say I am, if you're as great a man I think you are, then perhaps between us we can come up with a solution to this problem, and we can live out our years here in bliss. It was wrong of me to hold it against you that you did not have a better plan. I am sure we can work something out, though."

She leaned down and kissed the back of his head. Esmal groaned.

A slurred, sleepy, “Srei?"

She smiled warmly and whispered, “Good evening, my prince."

“Oh gods," Esmal's voice suddenly filled with pain and fear. Not what Srei expected. He sat up and hugged her close, trembling. “Thank Shkhanna you're safe."

Srei laughed softly. “Of course, I am safe." Esmal lurched against her—a sob and the warmth of tears fell against Srei's neck.

Esmal burrowed deeper into it, babbling, “I'm so sorry, so sorry…"

Srei hugged his head to her and rocked Esmal a little. “Shh-shh-shh," Srei cooed, “You don't need to worry, dear. I was upset, but I am okay now. We're okay now."

Esmal laughed bitterly. “Right… I forgot that even happened."

Srei held Esmal away to peer into his eyes. They were puffy with tears, and the prince was panting. Even in the darkness, Srei saw the stain of something on his teeth. “Esmal what's wrong, what happened to your mouth." Srei tilted his head up, catching some of the dwindling light and pulling down Esmal's bottom lip. “Shkhanna's slit, is that blood, Esmal?"

Esmal chuckled. He sounded desperate and pained and wry at the same time. He ran his tongue along his teeth before he said, “Guess Zysh wasn't as thorough as he thought."

“Zyshthunse did this to you?"

Esmal nodded grimly. “He beat me, Srei, snapped my arm in two. I don't remember anything else, but aside from being sore all over I'm fine. He healed me afterwards to hide what he had done."

“This will not stand," Srei hissed. “We must tell someone—he must—" even as Srei tried to get out of bed, Esmal snatched her wrist.

“Wait, Srei. We can't. You can't."

“What are you talking about Esmal?" She grabbed his arm. “You just said he broke your arm. He can't be allowed to do something like that to anyone."

“Srei, he will know if we say something."

“What do you mean?" Srei asked, but she figured it out even before Esmal could say a word. “The spell he was researching."

“He meant it for us," Esmal said dryly. “If we speak about him he will know. He probably knows we are talking about him right now."

“We just have to go to Sisbul together."

“And it will be the word of two outsiders against Sisbul's beloved consort."

That finally crushed the fire in Srei. She stared at Esmal for a moment, who looked like he was barely holding back more tears. Srei asked, quietly, “Esmal, why is Zysh doing all this to us?"

And Esmal explained his encounter with Zysh. They stopped several times to comfort each other, before Esmal shouldered on. When he finished, Srei reached down and took Esmal's hand. And, with a façade of bravery she did not feel, told her lover, “What this means, my prince, is you must be stronger than your father and Zysh, and we must find a way to thwart their plans."

“Srei…" Esmal rasped, throat dried out from crying, “I don't know if I can."

She kissed his knuckle, in a tender exchange mirroring the night Esmal said he fell in love with her. Srei told him, “You won't be alone, Esmal. You will never be alone in anything again."