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Shouts and songs ring out in the palace dining hall, where Sarmatian warriors and nobility have crammed in with theirspouses and children. Wine and kumiss flow freely, along with the feast that the palace staff were already cooking up.

The skull goblets have been brought out and passed around, each of us drinking from this conquered ruler or that, while warriors retell their stories of victory.

“Aye, Memnon, there’s still time to make Cotys into a drinking vessel!” Itaxes shouts.

Cheers rise at that.

Memnon smiles, holding his wine by the lip of the cup, but offers nothing else.

A large form sidles up to my side. “Does your new home please you?” Zosines says, a bite in his words.

I remember his earlier disdain. I take a sip of my spiced wine. “Very much. Does your newest wife please you?” I ask.

He studies me for a moment, a small smile on his face. “Very much.”

“What are you onto?” I ask. “Number five?”

“You’re keeping track of my wives?” Zosines asks, raising his eyebrows. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were interested.”

“In what? Castrating you?” I fire back. “Because I’ve taken akeeninterest in that.”

Zosines laughs, genuinely amused. “If you did that, all the women would cry.”

The man is delusional.

“Yes,” I agree, “they would—tears of joy. There might even be a feast in honor of the occasion.”

“I know you tease,” he says, “but I give my wives pleasure and children. What more could they want?”

I guffaw. “I don’t know, Zosines, maybe a life beyond sex and motherhood?”

He tilts his head, considering me. “I forgot,” he finally says, “you are still struggling to conceive. Of course you would see this topic differently.”

I hate how his words gut me. How I feel suddenly close to tears. I take another long drink of my wine, trying to drown my emotions.

Unaware of my turbulent thoughts, Zosines places a hand on my shoulder and leans in to my ear. “Now, here is a serious question: Are you sure my brother is doing it right? Maybe he needs a little help.”

I shrug off his touch and give him a withering look. “Surely you are not offering.”

Zosines raises his eyebrows. “And get my balls lopped off?” he says, laughing a little, though his expression appears strained. “No, my queen, lovely as you are, I wouldn’t dare.”

But his eyes linger on me in a way I cannot read but do not trust.

Do you want to slip away, my queen?Memnon’s voice cuts through the conversation.

Gods yes.

Good, because there just happens to be one more room I wanted to show you.

I down my wine, then thrust the now-empty cup into Zosines’s hand.

“Do you want more…?” His words fade away as I push through the crowded room, making my way toward Memnon.

When I get to my king, I take his hand, his eyes lighting up when they drink me in.

I didn’t realize you were so eager?—

I practically drag him toward the exit. Whistles and hollers accompany our departure, the guests clearly assuming we have much more intimate plans than we do. Then again, knowing how other evenings have ended, they are probably not terribly wrong.