"The prince cannot be disturbed," one of the guards said, holding up his hand.

Jehral sucked in his breath, and then with a bellow that Ella would never have expected him to be capable of, Jehral shouted.

"It's Jehral, Prince Ilathor of Tarn Teharan. You left me with the women at Agira Lahsa, but by the Lord of Fire, you'll see me now."

"Jehral?" the voice came through the door. "Enter and be welcome, my friend."

The desert warriors exchanged crooked smiles and one of the guards opened the door.

Prince Ilathor Shanti, son of the Kalif and war leader of the Hazaran desert tribes, stood looking out the open window of the chamber he'd chosen, high above the streets of Torlac, in the town's tallest structure. Ella followed his gaze, realising he was staring into the distance at the steaming waters of Lake Halapusa and the Petryan capital of Tlaxor centred at its heart. From every turret of the tiered city below, the teardrop and flame raj hada of Petrya flew tall and proud. The Petryans were far from conquered.

The prince turned as they approached, his lips curved in the charismatic smile Ella remembered so well.

He had been beardless before, but he had grown a thin beard, sculpted to follow the contours of his face and meeting his upper lip in two lines on either side of his chin. Ella was surprised to find she liked it. Prince Ilathor's near-black hair was very long, past his shoulders, held back with a golden clasp, and his dark skin was smooth and unblemished. He wore an earring of gold and amber in his left ear, and around his neck was a golden chain from which hung a curved turquoise triangle.

The black clothing of the Hazarans sat snugly around the prince's broad shoulders, but it was the yellow sash around his waist that caught Ella's attention. The raj hada in its centre was made of moulded yellow gold, the desert rose of Raj Hazara etched into the gold.

Jehral entered first, the two women flanking him on either side. Jehral bowed, somewhat clumsily for the usually graceful warrior. Ella — and Shani, she was surprised to see — followed suit.

"My prince," Jehral said. "I have been to far-off lands, but now I have returned."

"Jehral," Prince Ilathor said warmly, coming forward and clasping the man's left hand between both of his. "I never doubted you."

"Yet you left without me," Jehral said, his eyes accusing.

"I am sorry, my friend. Binding the tribes together is no easy feat. The reconstruction of Agira Lahsa is well underway and we rediscover more of our lore every day. The men were growing restless, and I could wait no longer. In my position, Jehral, would you not do the same?"

Jehral bowed his head. "I do not think to presume, my prince."

The prince smiled. "We missed you at the fight; rest assured of that, my friend."