And his soldiers had been very busy doing this the four days since Gallienus and Horatia had been incarcerated in Slán Bailey, Airen’s largest prison which was situated on a small island just off the harbor.

In this time, I took great heart in noting the disorder that occurred was not only men acting out who were angered that their until-now steadfast position of power was being threatened (and there were many men who acted out as such, Slán Bailey was getting most crowded).

There were also men making clear they stood by their Prince Regent and celebrated the changes he was making. They demonstrated somewhat peaceably (these demonstrations being “somewhat,” for liquor on occasion turned the tide of these celebrations, and the men who disagreed with them did not mind doing it using the tactic of engaging in fisticuffs in the streets).

Indeed, Jasmine, Hera, Finnie, Circe and myself had watched from the ramparts just such a parade march up to the gate at the end of the avenue to the Citadel and it was a glad sight to see.

What was not glad was that there were very few women amongst them.

I told myself, it had not been a long time.

They would learn.

After toil, the Phoenix would rise.

And when she did, she would be free.

And as I rode at Cassius’s side that day, surprisingly where I was without having an argument with him to allow me to be there (indeed, he’d actually asked me to do so), I thought of the Phoenix and rebirth for this land and reminded myself staunchly (and unrelentingly optimistically) the cards foretold it so.

I knew my man was unnerved with me beside him, even if my warriors and his surrounded us closely, there were many of us, and all were heavily armed, including Cassius and myself.

I also knew my betrothed could not make the statement he wished to make by hiding me in his Citadel.

He needed me seen.

He needed me strong.

He needed my head held high.

And that was how I rode beside him, wearing full Nadirii regalia, including my royal headband.

There did not appear to be more women in the streets during this journey than there were the day I had arrived, and again no children, but if I caught any gazes, if they were not staring at me with hate, I smiled.

I counted, and by the time we made the wharf, seven men had smiled back.

All tentatively.

But it was something.

I could not think long on that, for ahead was Slán Bailey, and in the now, we needed to dismount and board an odd boat with a strange paddlewheel at the back. It was somewhat square and had a canopy in the middle to make an interior portion to keep rain or mist from your clothing.

And I did not want to enter it.

On my feet or on Diana’s back, I could do anything.

In a boat?