Three long, lonely weeks passed in the harem's nursery before Istara was summoned to the queen's residence. She looked around, wide-eyed, at the opulence of the Queen of Hatti's vast reception room. Cushioned divans and potted palms encircled huge, colorfully-painted pillars. High above, even the ceiling bore painted scenes of gardens and exotic birds. Istara wondered how they did it. She would have to ask Urhi-Teshub, he would know the answer. He knew a lot of things.

Around the room's edges, pink, blue, and purple-dyed linen hangings created little alcoves. Within them, Istara glimpsed beautiful women reclining, their heads and necks laden in jewels, watching her, whispering behind their feathered fans.

Beneath her feet, a gleaming floor of polished marble. It was the first time she had seen it. Urhi-Teshub was right, it was slippery. So much nicer than flagged stone. A little part of her longed to see how far she could slide across it.

On the dais, an empty chair gilt in gold waited, a thin blue cushion on its seat. Two of the queen's royal guard flanked it, standing still as statues, their leather armor embossed with gold. A door in the dais's paneled wall opened. The women in the room came to their feet, then sank to their knees, the whisper of their gowns soft against the marble.

Istara knelt, her heart pounding. She had no idea what to expect, nothing here could be compared to home. Her mother hadn't had her own reception room with divans and guards and a chair gilt in gold. Tarhuntassa was another world, exotic and strange, filled with complicated hierarchies and power, even in the harem's nursery.

A heavy rustle of material swept past. Istara peeked up. Tanu-Hepa, twice crowned queen of the empire of Hatti, wore a draped gown of pure white, edged in gold thread. An intricate filigreed crown had been woven into her dark hair, and a fortune of gems and gold glittered on her throat, arms and fingers. She processed to her chair and waited as her attendants arranged her gown so she could sit. Another attendant came forward carrying a footstool, also gilt with gold. Istara stared as the attendant lifted the queen's feet onto it, even her sandals were made of gold.

Tanu-Hepa raised her hand, languid, and beckoned Istara forward. Trembling, Istara came to her feet and moved to the bottom step of the dais, feeling as though she were in the presence of a goddess.

"Welcome, Princess Istara of Kadesh, to the Court of the Sun," Tanu-Hepa said, her voice melodious and refined. "The Crown Prince has spoken to me of you, and the King, our Sun, has decreed you will live with me, here in my residence."

Istara gaped. She was going to live here? She thought she was going to have to live in that horrible, hateful nursery forever, where babies were always crying, and she had to share a pallet with two other children, who kicked her in their sleep.

At a nod from the queen, one of the noblewomen came forward, smiling, and held out her hand to Istara, to take her away. The noblewoman's gown and jewels far outranked anything Istara's mother had owned.

Shy, Istara shuffled backward and bumped into the guard who had brought her from the nursery. Soft ripples of amused laughter drifted through the room, but she didn't care. They could laugh as much as they wanted, all that mattered to Istara was she would never have to go back to the nursery again. She took the hand of the noblewoman, silently vowing never to forget what Urhi-Teshub had done for her. Ever.

❃

Istara watched, fascinated, as Hatti's queen prepared a platter from two of the trays on the table and passed it to her steward. He placed it before Istara with a flourish.

Istara looked at the golden platter, piled with creamy morsels of roast calf glistening in its juices. A compote of apples and raisins, spiced with cinnamon and honey, sat at its side, waited to be mixed into the meat. Her mouth watered. She looked up and caught Tanu-Hepa's indulgent look.

"Eat," she said, nodding at Istara's platter, "before it gets cold, but do leave a little room for the sweet. We shall have my favorite, especially made for your arrival, honeyed almond cake."

Istara ate. The meat was so tender, it melted in her mouth. Not like the gristly bits of dried meat she had had to gnaw on at the nursery. She ate all of the compote. Cinnamon was her favorite, she usually only tasted that rare and expensive spice on her year day. She couldn't imagine the impossible luxury of having cinnamon every day. She wondered what honeyed almond cake would taste like. She hoped she would like it so she wouldn't have to disappoint the kind and gentle queen.

She didn't need to worry, though she wished she hadn't eaten all the compote. Now she would struggle to finish her cake. It was so perfect she could almost cry. Then she felt guilty. How could she enjoy her food--how could she enjoy anything--after what had happened to her mother? She put her cake down and pushed her platter away.

Tanu-Hepa set aside her wine. "Is something wrong with the cake?"

Istara looked down at her hands, sticky with honey. "No," she said, quiet. "The cake is very nice, but I feel bad eating it."

"Why?"

Istara shook her head. She didn't want to answer.

Tanu-Hepa lifted a clean napkin from the table and dipped it into a bowl of warmed rose water. She knelt beside Istara and ran the damp cloth over each of Istara's fingers, one by one, until all the honey was gone. Istara watched her, thinking of how her mother used to do the same. She pressed her lips together, suddenly missing her mother so much her throat ached. She wouldn't cry in front of the queen. She couldn't. Tanu-Hepa set the napkin aside.

"Urhi-Teshub has told me all," she said, brushing back a strand of Istara's hair, just like Ama used to do. "My heart aches for you, to have lost your mother while still so young."

Istara struggled to fight the flood of memories. The heat of the square. Her mother's high, thin cry as Muwatallis stabbed her. The sharp metallic scent of her blood. Her father's hollow, shocked voice, calling her mother's name over and over. She caught Tanu-Hepa gazing at her, the queen's gentle eyes glistening with tears.

Istara crumpled. She sobbed her mother's name, begging it to all be a bad dream. With a low cry, Tanu-Hepa pulled Istara into her lap and rocked her back and forth, holding her, murmuring nonsense words of reassurance into her hair, just like Ama used to do. Unable to do anything else, Istara clung to the Queen of Hatti and wept.

It was a long time before Istara felt calmer. She hiccupped and looked up at Tanu-Hepa, shy. Brushing her own tears away, the queen rose and held out her hand. Istara took it and followed Tanu-Hepa onto a balcony overlooking a torchlit garden. After a long while, the queen sighed.

"I will never be able to replace your mother," she said, "but if you give me the chance to care for you, I will try to make your life as comfortable as possible in Tarhuntassa. You have lost your mother, and I have lost a son. I think we could find comfort in each other's company."

Within the garden, pairs of women dressed in white floated little boats bearing flowers and burning lamps onto the waters of the pools, creating little islands of light. It was very beautiful, but it only made Istara feel worse. They didn't have lamp boats in Kadesh. Was nothing here going be familiar? She looked up at Tanu-Hepa.

"Who is Asuru?" she asked, suddenly needing to understand Muwatallis's vow to remedy his wrong, made the night he joined Urhi-Teshub by his campfire .

A look of anguish sliced across Tanu-Hepa's face. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Istara felt terrible. How could she know her question would hurt the queen?

Tanu-Hepa brushed a fresh tear from her eye, and gave Istara a watery smile. "I can see you will keep me on my toes," she said, though not unkindly. "Asuru is Urhi-Teshub's birth mother. When he was born, there was a terrible winter storm. Prince Muwatallis was alone with Asuru when things went wrong. She died and he had to cut her open to save Urhi-Teshub. Muwatallis has never been the same since then . . . Asuru was the love of his life."

Istara shook her head. Poor Urhi-Teshub, he lost his mother before he ever knew her. Somehow knowing he had lost his mother too made her feel less alone. Maybe that was why he had protected her. She thought of Muwatallis and wondered if he had agreed to Urhi-Teshub's request to move her out of the nursery to the queen's palace because of his promise to Asuru. Istara shook her head. It didn't matter. She still hated Hatti's king for what he had done. Nothing he did could ever make things better, not even living with the Queen of Hatti and having cinnamon every single day for the rest of her life.