The afternoon sun had dipped low enough that the light spilling into the chamber had turned mellow, golden, and soft. After hours of speaking with the women of the palace about charity and schooling, my mind was still half-wrapped in thoughts of duty—grain storage, teaching widows embroidery, helping young girls read and write. But my heart was restless for only one thing.

“Ruhanika?” I called gently the moment I stepped into my chamber.