Tanasai reached for him. The other women laughed.

Daolyn pushed inside. She grabbed at the last of the women entering the room and said, “The Empress herself will punish you! This boy was her gift to Zezili. She will punish you if harm comes to him!”

The woman took Daolyn by the hair and slammed her head into the doorframe twice. Daolyn’s body made a dull thumping sound as she hit the floor.

“Let me see you,” Tanasai said, leering at Anavha. “Let’s see what my near-cousin thinks she’s keeping from me.”

They stripped him naked and pushed him onto his belly. Tanasai grabbed hold of his hair, jerked his head back, hissed in his ear, “This is what you’re made for? You forget that?”

She reached beneath him and tugged at his flaccid penis. “What do you think, my women? Think he needs this?”

“No!” one of the women yelled. “Take it off! Leave Zezili with a proper girl!”

“Looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it!” another said, and the others cackled.

Tanasai pressed her big body onto his. She sucked at her thumb and parted the cheeks of his ass. Shoved her thumb inside him.

He cried out.

“No virgin here,” Tanasai said into his ear. Her spittle flecked his face. “Let’s see what else we can get up in there.”

Tanasai let go of him. She reached for the dagger at her hip.

Anavha clawed at the floor. He twisted upright and grabbed at the ring of his dressing table drawer. Tanasai laughed and moved closer.

Anavha jerked open the drawer. It pulled free of its runner. The force of his own momentum and the quick release of the drawer sent the contents clattering to the floor. His container of powder thumped his chest, sent a burst of gold dust into the air. He sneezed. Kerchiefs scattered.

And there was the kitchen knife on the floor beside him; his cutting knife. He took it without being sure what he was going to do with it.

Then Tanasai threw herself on top of him.

Her bulky body pinned him to the floor. She let out a huff of breath, like the wind had been knocked from her. The sordid stink of her breath roiled over him.

Anavha felt wet on his fingers.

“Huh?” Tanasai mumbled.

Anavha kept hold of the knife. Tanasai pulled herself off him. She stood, tottering.

When she was clear of him, a thread of blood spurted from her wound, spraying Anavha’s face. He held up his bloody hands. Dropped the blade.

She dabbed her fingers in the wound, into the gush of blood.

“Oh,” she said. Her face grew pale.

The women behind her fell back, skittish.

Tanasai fell to her knees. The wound continued to gush dark blood. Tanasai toppled against the chair in front of the dressing table.

“Fools,” Tanasai muttered. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Fools. Get me something.”