The first few days are busy indeed, filled with dealing with all the issues that have been waiting for my return. Every morning, I hear the petitions of the commoners, meet with my council, discuss the new laws. Even before the sunrise, a long queue of peasants and townsfolk wait at the entrance to the palace for a chance to tell me their grievances, and no matter how many cases I hear each day, the next day's queue is just as long.

At least I have my advisers, especially Sagaristio, who rarely leaves my side as we go over the documents that require my signing, or handle the matters in the legal court. Some of the smaller tasks I delegate to him completely. Without him, I would have struggled more with the day-to-day obligations of ruling a kingdom. It's been a challenge since my father has passed away two years ago. The job seemed so easy when he was doing it. I'm getting better, but it still feels like a daily struggle.

Despite that, it's good to be home. The city surrounding the hill on which the palace stands looks so colorful in comparison to the colder, greyer northern lands we have returned from. It cheers me up to look from my window and see the familiar tumble of red roofs and the low stone and clay buildings with grapevines generously covering their walls.

I retreat to my quarters for a few hours each afternoon when the heat makes thinking and moving almost impossible. There I rest, either sleeping on trying to read documents or simply watching the sunlit landscape below.

It is on one such lazy afternoon that I sit at the open window, gazing at the roofs and the harbor and the glittering sea, when I notice a woman playing with her children in one of the courtyards. She's spraying them with water from a large clay flagon as they run about her, screaming and laughing, enjoying the temporarily cool on this hot afternoon.

It's not them who draw my attention, though, but the woman herself. The way she laughs, the damp shine of her face, the way the wet fabric clings to her body, outlining her breasts and her still firm belly make my mind drift to places other than politics.

The idea of visiting my harem suddenly looks very attractive.

The corridors are mostly deserted at this hour, everybody either catching a nap or working in cooler, darker rooms of the palace. Footsteps sound muffled on the stone floor crisscrossed with smudges of light filtering through the wooden grape canopy over the courtyard. Green leaves and the occasional clusters of fruits hang still, without even a little breeze to disturb them, as if the very air is asleep.

Followed by my guards, I enter the courtyard of the eunuchs. There're two of them now, dressed in their long dark robes, sitting at a little table over a game of backgammon. They jump up quickly and bow as we approach. I sign to my guards to wait for me and push the tall doors to the Women's Hall.

No other man is allowed to set his foot on the other side of this threshold—save for Emilio who, being a member of my harem, can't quite be considered a man.

The huge space with its magnificent ornate ceilings and the elaborately painted tiles is probably the largest and the most decorated area of the palace. I only have time for one look over its stone pools, the fountains and the sitting benches with cushions piling on them before the screaming begins.

"Oh my God!" someone squeals.

I look right and find a plump woman in long colorful robes running towards me. Two female slaves that must have been keeping her company on one of the sofas sit upright, looking at me with alarm.

The running woman seems anything but alarmed, though. She flings herself at me, wrapping her hands around me so that I stumble back.

"Easy, Masal," I say, laughing. "How are you?"

More voices join in—the exclamations of joy and surprise and the squeals of excitement, as more women appear in the arched doorways that run along the walls. There're no doors here, so even though each of them has her own alcove, there's not much privacy—and not much opportunity to bring in a guest unnoticed.

"My King! We were so worried!" Camilla, a young, blonde girl dressed in a northern fashion, joins Masal in hugging me. It's curious how some of the women cling to the dressing traditions of their native lands despite living far away. There're exceptions to it, though. Some are wearing revealing southern tunics that would have been considered inappropriate in their homeland. Perhaps the prospect of sweating all day in a buttoned-up dress is too high a price for preserving traditions.

More women run over to me, their voices rising in a whirlpool of excited exclamations, their hands open for a hug. A few others watch me warily, standing in their doorways, only bowing their heads as my eyes fall on them. They don’t bother me. The unwilling ones can keep to themselves. I have enough of the others swarming around me, hoping for attention.

Speaking of the unwilling ones, I look around and almost immediately find Emilio. He's walking over to me from the distant side of the hall, wincing at the loud noises produced by the women surrounding me.

"Harpax, damn you," he calls out, trying to overcome their loud chattering. "Harpax! Do you hear me?"

I ignore him, concentrating on the faces around me, asking about their wellbeing, dealing hugs, pinching cheeks and patting heads. Yet over the noise, I keep hearing him calling for me. When I look his way again, he glares at me, positively enraged.

He's dressed in a long, peach colored tunic, which probably plays a part in his being so upset.

"Are you deaf?" he snaps, and a few women look at him with horror. "I've been calling for you!"

"What for?" I say, wrapping my hands around the shoulders of the two closest girls who seem pleased with this sign of affection.

"I have told the eunuchs a number of times that I needed to talk to you. Haven’t they told you? Or have you been too busy?"

"Too busy," I say flatly. "So, you better talk now, for soon I'll be busy again." I nuzzle at Camilla's neck and she giggles before leaning into me.

He looks around, clearly uncomfortable with most of the eyes now being on him. Then he shakes his head dismissively and draws himself to his full height.

"Placing me here is a disgrace," he says. "I can't live in this hen house! I can't be dressed like this—why can’t I get proper clothing, like the others?"

"They wear what they brought from home."

"You didn’t exactly give me time to pack!" He glares at me. "This is ridiculous!" 

Some of the girls giggle, earning an angry glance from him. A few others grin at him smugly, as if reveling in his distress. Perhaps it feels refreshing to them, to see a man reduced to the powerless position normally reserved for women.

He glowers at them, supporting my guess that the few days he's spent here haven't produced any new friendships.

"I actually think it suits you well," I say, nodding at his tunic, and a ripple of laughter runs through the little crowd.

His eyes turn into two angry slits. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

"I didn't come here to talk," I say, looking around. "Perhaps some other—oh?"

I go quiet as my eyes fall on one of the stone baths in the background.

A naked woman slowly gets up there, her back turned to us. Two hands rise to squeeze the extra water from the black hair reaching down to her buttocks. Then, she turns around, water running down her full breasts, and smiles at me.

I smile back, and, as if it was a signal, she steps gracefully out of the bath and begins to walk towards me, displaying all her curves to their best advantage. She goes slowly, showing no discomfort at being the only naked person in the room. The other women go quiet as she approaches, and I can almost feel the tension in the air; yet they step aside to let her come closer.

She stops close enough for me to see the drops of water and the tiny goosebumps on her skin. Despite the heat outside, it's chilly in here.

"Aren’t you cold, Narin?" I say, placing my hands on her shoulders.

"Won't you warm me, my king?" she says, and leans in to kiss me.

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