And I saw, in the gardens of the palace, as the baths (and even some of the bigger fountains) got more and more crowded with naked bodies, and men and women (or men and men or women and women) disappeared behind shrub or tree or frond, that the tales of just how thoroughly the Firenz enjoyed a celebration were not exaggerated.

Aunt Mercy and King Wilmer had gone to their chamber ages ago.

As had my mother, and I assumed, my father.

As for me…

I had to stay.

But I needed escape.

At least for a moment.

Not due to all that was going on around me, I found that fascinating.

No.

I was tired. I was overwhelmed.

And I was queen.

Queen.

Although I could never know I would need to do so, I was seeing then I should long ago have paid more attention to Aunt Mercy.

This was because, that day, I felt the shift toward me by the barons and chieftains.

Apparently, if you wear a blood-soaked nightgown, witness your very soon-to-be husband and his men emotionlessly causing pain to screaming prisoners, watching those condemned die in more than one way, then be wed, all of this on top of what had happened the night before (all of it)…

Then wear a gown they approve of at your wedding…

And demonstrate you can ride a horse…

That was all the men needed.

The shift in attitude was almost entirely complete.

Add how they favored my taking in of smoke with Elpis (the best part of the evening so far, outside how proud and charming Mars was being, however, the smoke I’d taken in had sadly worn off). Or laughing at something bawdy Jasmine said. Or allowing my new husband to touch me, kiss me, clutch me, swing me around, all at whim.

And the men were won.

The women, however.

There were, I was realizing, two kinds.

The first, like my mother, who could be won by wedding gowns and accepting very public affection from my new husband as that was his wont, so it should be mine.

And the others, I suspected the ones like Aunt Mercy, who absolutely were not won by these things.

I would need to work much harder and much longer to turn them.

And I would need to do this, for even if the male approved Mars bending me over his arm and smiling wolfishly in my face before he claimed my mouth for all to see, that male’s wife might have his ear only five minutes later, and with whatever she said, that would be the end of that.

I did not know for I had not paid attention to how Aunt Mercy handled these things.

But I was wishing I had.

And from there on, I would.

In that moment, however, I knew the last thing I should do was escape.