The sun cast short shadows over the palace garden. A large platter of decadent food lay on the table within the vine-covered pavilion. It was supposed to be a quiet lunch for the royal family; the khanum often insisted on these lunches whenever she felt the need to compensate for a lapse in maternal skills. At least, that was how Mansur viewed it. But he humored her desire for it—there was always a rather full decanter of chilled wine to compensate for the inanity of the lunch. Today, Mansur would have preferred a dull lunch over the one forced upon him.

“Now what’s wrong with him?” Mansur gestured towards the shahzade.