Only the servants were stirring, putting the finishing touches on preparations for the coming Festival. In the wives’ court, however, all was not entirely quiet. Israi, sri-Kaa and Daughter of the Empire, languished on her couch beneath slowly revolving fans only until the door shut behind her ancient Kelth nursemaid Subi. Then she arose from her couch, scattering tapestry cushions onto the floor, paused a moment to find her balance, and slipped on her jeweled sandals. She tiptoed silently across the polished stone floor. Halfway to the door, a strange sensation passed through the swollen egg sacs in her sides. She paused, clutching herself, feeling breathless and a little dizzy. For a moment she felt too unwell to continue, but she was determined not to let her carefully laid plans be spoiled by mere physical weakness. After all, she was the Imperial Daughter. What she willed came to pass. Even her own body had to obey.
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