Maybe one day.

“Dagan says it’s time, Sister. It’s dusk.” Kasha took two steps into the room and swiped an apple from the platter nearby. “Besides”—he took a bite and crunched—“you have a visitor.”

“You have two! Three! A whole pack of them!” Rish added, smiling brightly. “Come on!”

Nasu had done it.

They disappeared down the corridor, whooping and laughing, and from the grove of tamarisk trees out back, the sounds of the celebration floated in with the twangs of lyres and chings of bells.

“Are you ready, Kammani? This is your one and only chance to back out.” Nanaea pulled a hair off her melon-colored tunic and cast it aside.

“Back out of what? I’m a willing participant. More than willing. It’s a commitment, not a marriage.”

This commitment to one another was bringing me everything I hadn’t realized I wanted before: a home with Dagan. A life filled with work that inspired me. Safety. Rest. Love. My cheeks heated.

“Oh yes, but what of children? Will Selu bless them if they’re not born in marriage?”

I colored. “Maybe Selu is more accepting than we all think, Nanaea. Besides, I’m not having any children, as I’ve told you before.”

She raised an eyebrow. “As far as I can tell, you’re well on your way to a house full of them. You believe that you are quiet, but let me say—”

“Nanaea!” I shrieked, my cheeks growing even hotter.

She laughed. “I am merely telling you how it is.”

“As you’ve been doing too much lately.” I opened the chamber door and walked down the corridor, Nanaea trailing behind. The thought of children filled me with worry whenever it came up, so I knew motherhood wasn’t right for me. Not now. Maybe one day. But not anytime soon.

“But if you have a child in the next year, she’ll be friends with baby Huna!”

Arwia had been enjoying her own sort of motherhood these days, having adopted Gudanna’s daughter as her own. She figured she wouldn’t have to worry about the child being used as a pawn against her if she became her own heir.

“Stop pestering me!” I growled, pinching her arm lightly as she pushed open the exterior door, and we stepped out into the dusk. The sunset was a dusting of rose against a golden western sky.

A sky that Gudanna would never see again. She sat in the dungeons, living out the rest of her life under lock and key. I’d convinced Arwia to let her live instead of putting her head on the wall as she’d wanted to do. She had no real power or claim to the throne, and she was already ill, deteriorating in bits and pieces as the days went by. Arwia allowed Gudanna to see the babe from time to time, though the sullen woman refused the treatments I offered her. “Why heal only to live like a rat?” she’d said. Nevertheless, I tried. I told Arwia she wouldn’t last until spring, and even I realized that was for the best.