full of happy energy, a letter clutched in one hand.
“Dalair’s Immortals captured Elam and its capital Susa. He’s now marching toward Opis. With a couple more wins, we will finally have control of Babylon!” her husband crowed excitedly.
He leaned down and gave her a haphazard, affectionate peck on the cheek before settling on the small patch of grass beside her on top of the hill.
“Congratulations,” Kira said dutifully. “The King must be proud.”
She avoided discussions about war and politics as a rule. She didn’t agree with King Cyrus’ ambitions to consolidate lands under Persian dominion for as far as the eye could see.
She believed in different peoples having the right to rule themselves. She advocated for trade and commerce, cultural sharing between kingdoms. But to subjugate one under another by force—she disagreed on principle.
This was one of the many reasons she couldn’t accept Persia as her homeland. And in return, it was no surprise that Persia had not accepted her. The fact that she hadn’t borne sons, not even one child, in ten years of marriage didn’t help her popularity either.
As the Crown Prince’s wife, and eventually the Queen of Persia, she could never express such views openly. Even in private, Cambyses changed the subject whenever she started a discussion. Likely, he didn’t want to argue with her.
Theirs was a friendly marriage, filled with teasing, laughter and light-hearted banter. They were the best of friends. Even though, after all this time, Kira still didn’t know her husband. Not the way she knew Dalair within moments of meeting him, as if her soul had recognized his and breathed a sigh of joyful relief.
She and Cambyses, or Cam, as she decided to call him early on, were not lovers. Not even on their wedding night could they be called such, for it was merely a duty they performed. And rather badly, at that.
“Pfft,” Cambyses dismissed. “That’s not why I’m happy. You know I don’t care for my father’s campaigns.”
No, the Crown Prince was as far from a warrior as someone in his position could be. He was witty, well-read, artistic, poetic. But he absolutely detested martial arts and was regularly beaten by his siblings in mock battle and training. If not for Kira’s private practices with him, the resounding defeats would have resulted in much greater damage to his person.
Kira was rather too fond of him to let that happen.
“Then why have you run all this way from the Palace to tell me?” she teased, stroking her fingers through a few locks of hair that had fallen over his forehead.
“You’re all sweaty from the exertion. You hate to be sweaty.”
“I’ll soak in the baths later,” he acknowledged absent-mindedly before beaming with anticipation. “You know what this means, don’t you? Dalair could be coming home soon! The war is almost over!”
Kira’s heart gave a dizzying leap before she wrestled it back into its cage.
“That’s what you said ten battles ago, even ten years ago,” she reminded Cambyses. “There is always a new campaign, a new kingdom to conquer. Dal—the Commander hasn’t been back in all this time. Only a few days here and there to visit his mother.”
She always hesitated to say Dalair’s name. It felt too intimate. Irrationally, saying it out loud seemed like a betrayal of her husband. And gods knew, Kira had already betrayed Cambyses enough in her heart.
Cambyses’ full lips turned down into a pout, his expression almost childlike.
In so many ways, her husband reminded her of a child. There was a mischievousness about him, an irreverent snark that got him into plenty of trouble, of which his position as the Crown Prince helped on many occasions to bail him out.
But he also possessed a beautiful innocence. If she weren’t so desperately in love with his half-brother, she’d have been honored to truly be Cambyses’ wife. He deserved someone who loved him wholly and unconditionally. As it was, Kira tried to be the best wife she could, in all ways except one.
“When I see Dalair again, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Cambyses huffed. “How could he visit Vashti and not us? We are his family too!”
Kira stayed silent, looking away.
Unfortunately, she knew exactly why Dalair stayed away. She could never forget the disbelief and sheer anguish on his face the morning he found out who she really was. She was sure her own face reflected the same consternation and agony. Because it was the same time she discovered that he was not really the