"I don't know," Teres whispered back, clearly shaken. She was just glad the man had not decided to kill Sasha instead. The two men seemed to know each other, as they were seen clasping hands and then even hugging, like brothers might. Was this the third the augur had spoken of?

"Easy, beloved," Ezra murmured to his bride, raising her hand to kiss her knuckles gently. "He is known to us." He smiled reassuringly at her, his turn to join the king where he stood. "Idris, you have terrible dress sense," he informed the newcomer. "Who told you this was suitable to wear to my wedding?"

Teres moved over to stand beside Safi, taking her friend's arm as the men chatted nearby and turning a questioning glance her way. The newcomer, whose name it seemed was Idris, grunted in reply to Ezra's greeting.

"Ah, so that it was the guards were chattering on about. And here, I thought it was Nasir who was getting married," Idris replied, reaching to clasp Ezra's arm in friendship. "It has been a long time, my brothers."

"A very long time," Ezra agreed, clasping arms with his old friend. "And here we are again, at the heart of the matter, as it were." He glanced at Sasha, who was frowning now, but still stood close, as though expecting a dagger at any moment. "Nasir, you did not mention your harem held female warriors."

"It doesn't," Nasir replied. "Thank you, Sasha. May I have my sword?" he asked without anger or malice, extending a hand in anticipation of her doing as he asked.

"Hm, perhaps it should," Idris said, making it a point to look Sasha over with an appreciative gaze.

There was a flash of something that might almost have been hurt in Sasha's eyes at Nasir's initial reply, hidden when she bowed to him, returning his sword obediently. When she raised her head, it was to meet Idris' eyes defiantly, believing she was being mocked. Then she turned on her heel and walked back to the other ladies, her jaw set in unexpressed anger.

Ezra bit down on a smile; he didn't want to draw that wrath his way. "In any case ....grave news?"

"Yes," Idris confirmed, looking past Ezra, first at the departing Sasha and then at the other two women who were hovering nearby. "But not here. This is a happy occasion. In any case, it's been taken care of for now. With your leave, I will go freshen up and meet you in an hour?" he suggested.

"Is the news urgent?" Ezra pressed his friend, looking him over with twitching lips. "I would assume it is, given the state of you."

He heard Safiya's whisper to Teres behind him - "You have a brave husband, maymun."

Idris shrugged his wide shoulders. "The heads of our enemies are on display above the gatehouse as a warning to any insurgents." He flicked another glance at the women. "I would suggest you shield the ladies from the view," he added in a quiet tone, as they might understandably find it upsetting.

Nasir's expression turned grim. It was obvious from his appearance that his friend had recently been involved in some sort of battle. "Rebels?" he asked. "Where" Have they been defeated?"

"Yes and yes," Idris answered his king. "There is no immediate threat, but I wished you to know."

"Ah." Ezra glanced toward the group of women. "Then it would appear the urgency is not so very much. In which case, my friend, will you join us at the wedding breakfast' Our king has graciously offered the use of his private courtyard to quietly celebrate my marriage to Teres." At this, he offered his hand to Teres, inviting her to join them. "My wife," he said proudly. "Askim, this is our good friend Idris el Bashir."

Idris didn't have a chance to decline before Ezra was introducing his bride. Ezra always had been the excitable sort, he thought to himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady, though I am afraid I am not at my best. If you will all excuse me, I will make myself presentable and meet you in the garden," he said, offering a short bow, first to Teres and then to the others.

Teres took her husband's hand and came up beside him, nodding politely at the newcomer, despite her nervousness.

At her back, Safiya nodded to Idris with a soft smile, prepared to take him on trust as one of Nasir's friends, someone he had been hoping to have back at his side for a long time. Beside her, however, Sasha still looked wary, her eyes fixed on Idris throughout the men's conversation. She would have vehemently denied any hint of interest in her gaze if anyone brought it up.

Ezra wrapped his arm about Teres, squeezing her gently into his side as he smiled down at her in a reassuring manner. "He does not always look like a ruffian from a desert tribe of outlaws."

"He is the commander of the king's armies," Teres replied quietly, for her new husband's ears alone. "I would not expect him to look prim and proper." At least, not upon his return home from whatever campaign or battle he'd been engaged in. There was something about the man that was appealing in a wild sort of way, but she preferred the quiet love and security of the man by her side. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, just because she could, and smiled. "Are you happy, husband?"

"He knows better than to force his way into the private hallways of the palace looking like that," Ezra muttered, but set his mild annoyance aside to return his wife's smile with fond warmth. "I could not be any happier, wife," he answered her, touching his brow to hers as he breathed in the sweet fragrance that clung to her. "My only regret is that we must behave ourselves before our companions for a few hours yet."

"Only for a few hours, sevgili," she reminded him, as if he needed reminding. "And then, we will be as one," she said, an expectant smile on her face. Safi and Sasha had told her all they knew of men, and though the knowledge might frighten some women, it only stirred a strange desire inside Teres for her new husband.

The smile he gave her was filled with passionate promises as he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her palm with tender lips for just a moment. "Shall we then, wife?"

"As you wish, husband," Teres replied with an adoring smile. Wherever he would go, she would follow, so long as it wasn't into battle.

Chuckling gently, he turned them both to look at Nasir. "At your leisure, majesty," Ezra said warmly to his friend, unable to step in front of the king despite their closeness.

He was still laughing when the servant struck, stabbing with the dagger as he came close, the returned warrior his obvious target. There was a flash of metal, the dagger coming away stained crimson, before Idris rose to his feet to face his attacker, his expression full of rage.

The flash of metal registered a moment too late in Sasha's eyes, but she still reacted by instinct alone. The second servant found his metal tray batted from his hand into the face of the attacker, spraying hot food and sauce toward the man's eyes even as she gripped one of his boots and pulled, hard.

The man shrieked in pain before going down, dropping the dagger to the ground, where Idris was quick to snatch it up and drive it home into the fallen man's chest. It might have been better had he kept the man alive for questioning, but as a warrior, his instinct when threatened was to kill, not capture.

It was over so quickly the others barely had any opportunity to react at all. Guards surged toward the meal only to have a dead body to deal with. Safiya's scream died in her throat, staring wide-eyed at the carnage.

Teres squeaked and buried her face in Ezra's shoulder, too terrified to watch any further, trusting her new husband to keep her safe, though it seemed it was Idris who had been the target. The big man growled in annoyance and anger, barking orders at the guards to dispose of the refuse, unaware of the crimson stain that was slowly staining the side of his tunic.

With his arms wrapped soothingly about his new wife, Ezra was calmly giving orders of his own about the investigation that would begin with a minute inspection of the dead assassin, and a palace-wide lock down for the time being.

Sasha rolled her eyes at Idris' infuriated insistence on being in charge, and took matters into her own hands, rising to her feet to catch his attention.

"You, sit down before you fall down," she ordered him, ignoring the shock on the faces of some of the servants and guards.

"You do not give me orders, woman!" Idris retorted, even as he swayed on his feet and reached for something - or someone - to grab hold of. Nasir joined Ezra in shouting orders, dismayed by the attack on his friend so newly returned home and right under their noses.

Sasha did not so much as flinch at the retort. Her hand flashed out to slap Idris firmly about the face, to snap him out of his anger. "You are bleeding, and this is your friend's wedding celebration," she reminded him. "Sit down."

He blinked at the slap, more in shock than in pain. He felt something wet and sticky at his side, though his first instinct had been to fight back, rather than consider his own mortality. He glanced down at the spreading stain on his tunic, an expression of mild surprise on his face.

"So I am. Now, that is inconvenient," he murmured before dropping heavily into a chair.

"Your powers of understatement never cease to amaze me, Idris," Ezra offered a little weakly. He could have wished for this not to happen at his wedding, but a part of him was a little relieved. After all, it meant that he could spirit his bride away that much sooner, to reassure her of her safety.

Sasha was already kneeling before Idris, opening his clothing to get a look at the wound in his side whether he wanted her to or not.

"Go, Ezra," Nasir urged, waving a hand at his friend. "Take Teres somewhere safe. There is nothing more you can do here," he told his friend, sorry this had sullied his friend's wedding day, but thankful, none of his friends had been killed. Or so he hoped. He turned to where Sasha was ministering to Idris. "Is it serious?" he asked, with obvious concern.

As for Idris, he had turned uncharacteristically quiet, a hint at the severity of the wound.

Nodding gratefully to Nasir, Ezra gently urged Teres up onto her feet, drawing her with him from the garden and into the palace, toward the rooms that were now theirs to share. Safiya stood at Nasir's shoulder, a little more stoic in the face of such violence than Teres but only because she knew her reaction would reflect upon Nasir's ability to handle the situation.

Without much care for her modesty, Sasha had pulled the veil from her hair, bunching it up to press against Idris' wound hard enough to staunch the flow of blood. "Not too serious, if he does as he is told," she told the king, but her eyes were on Idris' gaze, warning him not to disobey.

"With such a pretty nursemaid, I might be willing to obey," Idris replied, his words just a little bit slurred, though he'd had nothing to drink, as yet.

"He needs to lie down," Nasir pointed out, looking worried for his friend and for the possibility that his attacker might have allies among the servants.

"Sasha could stay with him," Safiya suggested. "She could protect him until we are certain there are no others seeking his death."

"I need no woman watching over me," Idris murmured in protest, though apparently, he did - at least, at the moment. He made an attempt to get up, but there was some strange pain lancing his side. This was, of course, not the first time he'd been wounded, but it was the first time it had not happened in the heat of battle.

Sasha's hand gripped his and pulled it to the wad of bloodied fabric at his side. "Hold that there," she told him, ignoring his protest as she rose to her feet. "If your majesty will tell me where the commander's quarters are, I will tend and guard him until I am relieved of that duty."

"Actually, you do," Nasir interjected against his friend's obstinacy. "If you rather, I could have Luka do it," he suggested, naming one of the physician's assistants.

Idris grimaced at the king's suggestion. "No, I will behave," he said. Despite Sasha's lack of bedside manner, he preferred her to either the physician or his assistants. She was prettier, after all. For all his gruffness, he obeyed her suggestion, holding the fabric to his side as he was told.

"I will send Hatice to bring you the supplies you will need," Safi offered softly. "The commander's quarters are below the king's, on the next floor up from here."

As far as he was concerned, she was a sight for sore eyes, being as she was a woman and a very pretty one at that. He had missed being with a woman these last months, too busy routing out insurgents and the like to spend any time enjoying female companionship. "I would be grateful," he said, as he enjoyed the view.

She rolled up her sleeves to pile foods upon his plate, bringing it over to set it down on his lap and resume her seat beside the bed. "Do you look at every woman as though imagining how she would taste?" she asked, blunt as ever.

He only grinned, risking wearing his meal instead of eating it, but it was worth the risk. "Perhaps, but I have not met one as scrumptious as you," he remarked, as he popped a bit of cheese into his mouth.

"Would you like to eat those words, or the meal in front of you?" Sasha suggested, just a little acerbically. But she couldn't hide the shy flicker of her gaze, pleased with the compliment, even if it was only made in admiration of her looks.

"You're a fiery one," he remarked, taking another bite. "I like that in a woman." It was just an observation, but one he couldn't miss. "How is it you aren't spoken for, like your friends?" he asked, with interest.

She snorted with laughter. "The king and his mother have not yet set their minds to finding a man who could survive having me for a wife," was her response. "I will not be a second wife. If I am to marry, it will be as the only wife to my husband, or I will make myself a widow."

"I envy the man who is lucky enough to make you his wife," he remarked, never dreaming he might have a chance at filling that position himself, for one reason or another.

Sasha laughed at that, taking it for a delirious compliment from a man who had not been in the company of women for a very long time. "Do you even know my name, commander?" she asked in amusement.

"Yes, of course I know your name!" he replied. He was not a complete dolt, after all, and he had ears to hear. "Your name is Sasha. Ha! There. Are you impressed?" he asked, unable to suppress a grin. "I am not so idiotic as you might think," he added, tapping a finger to his head.

"No, you're drunk on pain and wine," she told him, still smiling as she shook her head. "I have to ask ....you could easily have tried to push me aside in the chapel garden. Why didn't you?"

He shrugged, wincing only a little at the pain it caused him to do so. "You were acting in the interest of the king, yes" Trying to protect him and his intended. How can I fault you for that?"

"And yet you disregarded the guards themselves, only to allow yourself to be stopped by a woman," she commented, more curious than anything. "Not even a woman in armor."

"A woman of the court," he corrected her. "What kind of man would I be if I had killed you?" he asked, though he wondered if she wouldn't have welcomed the challenge. "As for the guards, they should know my face by now and of my loyalty to the king."

"You are truly not like other men in this land," Sasha mused, considering him for a long moment, letting her eyes travel over his bared skin, over the scars and the toned musculature. "You have seen a good deal of battle, it seems."

"I have seen my fair share," he admitted, more modestly than she might have expected from a man who seemed very sure of his masculinity. "It is my duty to command the king's armies, after all, and what kind of commander would I be were I afraid to shed my own blood?"

"I wonder that you bothered to return to Valentia at all, after Clovis declared your bloodline traitors," she said, pointing out that she knew what had been happening, even though she had been in the Old Palace with Lady Shahista, Safiya, and Teres at the time.

For the first time since he'd returned, he bristled a little at her remark, feeling just a little self-defensive. "Nasir and Ezra and I are like brothers. We were exiled together, and we returned together. We stand together. Always," he said, leaving no room for argument.

Sasha knew that tone of voice. She had heard it from the captain who had been like a father many times, a warning not to press any further, and she had learned to fear the consequences of disobedience from him. Hearing that tone now was a stark reminder that this man could have her turned from the palace or even killed if she should set a foot wrong.

"As you say," was her soft reply, endeavoring to soften her presentation to avoid punishment.

He wasn't about to punish her, not for merely asking questions. "This is home, Sasha," he said, his voice gentling a little. Maybe she didn't understand that. Maybe for her, Valentia would never be home, but despite all the turns his life had taken over the years, this was home.

"You may never know how privileged you are to have a home to return to," she said quietly, taking that opportunity to rise and turn away, moving to wash her hands for the third time since tending to him. There was nothing to wash clean, but it kept her from having to meet his eyes.

Idris said nothing for a long moment, just watching her as she turned away from him. It wasn't difficult to read her thoughts, as her body language spoke for her. "I have heard Nasir is dissolving the harem. That he is marrying the women off to men of good standing. Has he yet said what he plans for you?"

Sasha shook her head, drying her hands before turning back to him. "I am to share quarters with the Teliran until she becomes queen in a matter of weeks, and then I will return to the harem proper," she told him. "I do not expect to leave it again. But I will teach all the king's children to fight."

"And what if you had the freedom to do as you wished" What would you do then?" he asked. He did not know much about her past, but he knew enough to know she had not come here by choice. Would she leave by choice, if she could"

"I have nowhere to go." She sighed, tugging a hand through her hair to untangle a knot that had been bothering her for a while. "If I had that freedom ....I would beg to be allowed to stay close to Teres and Safiya. They are the only family I have."

"Hm, how do you think Valentia will react to that news?" he asked, merely curious. He had been away too long to know the answer to that question himself, though he had seen that most of the population did not seem too upset that they had a new king - except for those who still clung to the old ways and were enemies to Nasir and his court.

"I think, so long as they do not rush to giving her significant powers, any country can be brought around," Sasha mused. "All Safiya needs is for the people to love her. Once they do, they will acknowledge and trust her to do what is best."

"The world is changing, Sasha," Idris pointed out, shifting to try and get comfortable against the pillows piled at his back. "Young kings are taking power all over Meringia. Our old alliance with Pomerania is being renewed. Our enemies are slowly being defeated. A new age is upon us - an age of peace. Warriors like myself might very well become extinct," he said, an ironic smile upon his face, unsure how he felt about that. Of course, there would always be a need for an army, but perhaps not one who was constantly at war.

"And what will you do, as an old soldier?" she asked, her smile giving away just how much of a tease that query was. He was far from old, and she definitely liked what she saw.

Old. He chuckled. He was not yet even thirty. "I suppose I will do whatever it is my king wishes me to do," he replied, as honestly as he could.

"Then it is time for me to ask you this in return," Sasha said, leaning comfortably against one arm of her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she clasped her hands together rather than gesture wildly as she usually did. "What is it that you would wish for your life?"

He frowned a moment in thought. He had not thought to ask himself this question, not in many years. He had always seen himself as nothing more than a soldier - a man who wished for nothing more than to fight for king and country. He had not given much thought to what might happen once they had won.

"I do not know. I suppose I will always be a soldier, one way or another. Perhaps I will be put in charge of the palace guards, or perhaps I will train new recruits." He shrugged again, though his response did not really answer her question.

"That is not what I asked," she pointed out. "You have garnered from me one wish of my own that I have not shared with anyone but my closest sisters. All I ask is one wish of yours in return."

"Yes, well, what is the point of dreaming of things that will never come to be?" he countered, though he had asked the same of her. He shifted again, as if he was uncomfortable either with the bed or the question or both.

"Oh, I see." Some part of her expression closed off, letting go of the hope that had risen during their conversation that she might one day see the sea once again. If not even he could hope for a dream to come true, then she should not even consider reaching for her own.

"I'm sorry," he found himself apologizing at the expression on her face. He had saddened her somehow, but it never occurred to him that her dreams couldn't come true, just because his might not. Hers was a dream he could help make true. It was highly unlikely she could do the same for him. "I think I might be drunk," he said, by way of excuse. He threw the covers off his legs and winced as he moved to get up.

Whatever her disappointment, she still took her duty seriously, rising swiftly to offer him her assistance in rising. "If you are drunk, why are you getting out of bed?" she asked, while still allowing him to do just that.

"I need to piss, unless you would like to hold it for me," he said, a bit more gruffly than he'd intended. Of course, he had to relieve himself. He'd just drained a bottle of wine by himself; it had to go somewhere.

"I could have brought you the pot," she pointed out, but even as she did so, she was gently steering him to the small functional bathroom. It was simply a place where he could relieve himself and wash his face with running water, but simply having such things indoors made Valentia something of a front runner in Meringia.

"Bah, the pot is for invalids," he told her, too stubborn to do things the easy way. To his credit, he did not push her away or insist he could get there on his own, letting her take a little of his weight so that he didn't have to put too much pressure on his wounded side.

"If you pull out the two stitches I had to put in you, then you will be an invalid," she warned, gently helping him to sit in the little bathroom. She did, however, rush out as soon as she could, to avoid seeing anything she couldn't handle.

He couldn't help but chuckling a little as she rushed from the little room, though that was followed by a quiet groan as the chuckling made his side ache. "Blast. I always thought I'd die in battle, not at the hands of a bloody coward," he grumbled, though he was far from dying. He did his business without delay, which she could probably hear from where she stood, shoving to his feet with another grunt as he moved to splash some water on his face and hands.

She did hear his grumble, smirking to herself at the overly dramatic response to an injury that would heal perfectly well within a few weeks. There was something endearing about listening to a big, gruff, handsome man grumbling to himself about not being at his best. "Are you all right in there?"

"Yes, yes! I've been pissing on my own since I could walk," he assured her. Actually, he'd been doing that on his own since he was born, but like any child, it had taken a few years to learn control. Fortunately, there were no sounds of anything crashing to the floor as he stumbled back out. "I need more wine," he grumbled further as he reappeared. More wine would mean another trip to the bathroom though, he realized with a frown.

Sasha's smile was sympathetic without being condescending, her arm gently tucking about his waist to encourage him to lean on her as she drew him back to the bed. "You need to sleep," she corrected him. "Wine will not help you heal."

"Sleep" Have you noticed it's still the middle of the day?" he griped as she helped him back to bed. He was not generally one for being lazy, priding himself on keeping busy, but he did need to allow himself some time to heal.

"And you are injured," she repeated. "Would you prefer that I dose you with poppy to make you sleep" So that you have no control and will not awaken easily without grogginess?"

"I cannot lie here all day with nothing to do but sleep, Sasha. It's boring," he complained. "Besides, if I sleep all day, what will I do at night?" he asked, almost challenging her to answer that.