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little bit. Hearing him confess he was warm in her embrace made her entire being ache for him. It astonished her and she swayed on her feet. Ziyad steadied her.
          "I can deny you nothing," she whispered. "If you can forget your pain, even for a little while, then I will gladly keep you warm, Spider."
          His wide, handsome grin tugged on her heart. It was impossible trying to harden herself around her husband, especially when he could melt her with just a look alone.
          "Then I will order our dinner to be sent to my carav."
          Amani nodded slowly and followed when he drew her behind him. She couldn't decide if she'd been delivered to heaven or made to endure hell.
    ~ * ~
          Ziyad led her up the steps to his carav and snapped his fingers. Four ornate silver lamps lit, hanging from the ceiling, giving her a clear view of his quarters. She'd been in here earlier, but her eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dark from the bright sun. Now that she could clearly see, she gasped at his decadent surroundings.
          Just like in her carriage, black fabric hung on his walls, but his fabric was made from fine, soft silks. Colorful pillows of all sizes littered the floor where he slept, and the carpet beneath her feet depicted a scene of black and silver spiders in their webs.
          The pedestal throne he'd set her on earlier was also covered in fine fabrics, and the strong, heady scent of rahala blossoms greeted her nose.
          "Your carav is glorious," she said in awe, looking all around her at the black chests, gilded with silver, which held his clothing. A few papers lay in disarray on a polished table, and the pitcher and goblet she remembered still sat next to his throne on the floor.
          "I suppose I no longer see the splendor my position affords me," he said, glancing around with her. "I have taken my throne for granted."
          "I do not believe you have," Amani told him. "You've had…other things on your mind. Do you settle disputes of your people here?"
          "I have in the past," he replied. "But not lately. There have been no disputes to settle. Our caravan is a friendly lot."
          Amani coughed behind her hand and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. Ziyad had said 'our caravan', as if she was his princess. Perhaps he meant it in a broader sense, encompassing his people as well. That had to be it.
          A soft knock interrupted them and the Spider made his way to the door. The head cook, Patik, glanced into the carav and her eyes lit on Amani. A wide grin stretched across her face before she handed her prince his food.
          "Have a spirited evening, Your Highness." She winked before Ziyad closed the door.
          "That woman has a loose tongue," he growled, setting down the tray. Amani joined him when he sat in the pillows.
          "She merely wishes to see you happy, Spider."
          "And you know this how?" he said, taking a bite of the fragrant flatbread.
          Amani took her own piece of bread and dipped it into a creamy sauce. "Your people love you," she answered. "They grieve for their princess just as much as you do. But they wish nothing but the best for you and hope I bear you healthy heirs."
          Ziyad arched a brow and lifted his mouth in a halfgrin. "It would seem you have found a way to speak to them after all."
          "Yes, well," she said, reaching for the water goblet. "Patik might be uncomfortable around me, but at least she doesn't wave me away like your lead carav driver."
          Ziyad chuckled while she took a drink. "You tried to chat with Brand? That old man doesn't talk much. To anyone."
          Amani nodded and finished chewing her cheese before answering. "So I've noticed. But Hyram is a wonderful man. He speaks to me more than Patik ever does."
    The look on Ziyad's face darkened. "Does he now?"
          "Every morning when I step out of