Free Goddess by Fiona McIntosh

recover last time. Now, perhaps three or four moons.’
    Boaz nodded. ‘That’s all I can give him. So what should the Valide do?’
    ‘You’ll have to tell her what I’ve told you but beware not to betray me—lie if you must.’ Pez knew he didn’t have to remind Boaz of their secret but he had never felt himself to be in a more precarious position than now. ‘Give her this.’ He handed the Zar a ragged scroll of parchment.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘A recipe for the tea that Lazar will need. I found it at the Sea Temple,’ Pez lied. ‘Zafira must have written it out. Tell anyone who asks that you found it on me when I was discovered at the temple.’
    The Zar read it. ‘We shall have to get the fresh poison. I’ll order snakes to be milked immediately.’
    Pez nodded. ‘How is the Grand Vizier, by the way?’
    ‘Unharmed—the only one who came out of the desert unscathed. He’s just returned from a brief tour with our ships.’ Boaz shrugged at his friend’s look of surprise. ‘I needed someone senior I trusted to do some reconnaissance.’
    Pez masked how he felt about Maliz being in such a position of trust. ‘No Galinsean ships yet?’
    Boaz shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to think.’
    ‘They’re coming, my Zar, don’t think otherwise. But I imagine the dignitaries took the precaution of first sailing back to King Falza to advise him personally of developments. No doubt they gave Lazar long enough to reach Romea, or at least for your emissary to enter the capital. I imagine they’ll be deciding around now, if they haven’t already, that no diplomatic party is arriving.’
    ‘And the ships will be returned,’ Boaz finished for him.
    Pez nodded. ‘You have perhaps five moons at most before they are in our harbour.’
    Boaz gave an unintelligible growl. ‘And we shall be ready for them.’
    Lazar grimaced. ‘Valide, please—’
    ‘Call me Herezah,’ she urged, dabbing a soft flannel over his brow. ‘Does that help?’
    He reached to stay her hand, noticed the flash of delight in her eyes above her veil at his touch. ‘You should not be nursing me,’ he croaked.
    ‘Why ever not? My son has little need for me as counsel—he takes all the advice he requires from the Grand Vizier these days. And as I told you, after my time in the desert the harem is tedious. Furthermore, with the threat of war, it now seems altogether pointless. I might as well make myself useful by helping you to recover.’
    ‘The worst is yet to come,’ he warned, his voice cracking. ‘I have yet to confront the wasting fever.’
    ‘So be it. I shall see you through those times, Lazar. You saved my life—I feel obliged to reciprocate. I shall be your slave for a while.’ Her eyes glittered with innuendo.
    Behind the Valide Lazar saw a woman enter.
    Elza bobbed a curtsey. ‘Excuse me, Valide, I have been sent to warn you that his Highness, the Zar, is approaching.’
    ‘Ah,’ Herezah said evenly. ‘Please, bring the Zar in.’
    Moments later Boaz arrived.
    ‘My lion, be welcome,’ Herezah said, standing to greet her son and removing her veil in a practised motion before dropping to a low, elegant curtsey.
    The Zar took her hand and raised her. ‘Mother,’ he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
    Lazar struggled unsuccessfully to rise from the pillow. This was the first time since he’d returnedfrom the desert that the Spur had seen his Zar. At that moment of return he had murmured an anguished apology that all had gone so wrong. Boaz had been stoic but cool towards Lazar. Now he at least wore a smile.
    ‘Please don’t, Lazar,’ Boaz admonished his Spur’s struggle. ‘Let us ignore protocol for the time being. It is good to see you, brother,’ he said, reaching for the Spur’s raised hand and grasping it, making a fist of it in the way Lazar had taught him when he was a young lad.
    The Spur found a twitch of a smile as the fond memory flitted across his thoughts of a young prince striving to become