At the end of the corridor a small lamp burned thick black oil. There we met a familiar face one of the most trusted Eyes of the Night Standard. He bowed at once when the queen's outline resolved in the gloom, a gasp half joy, half shock escaping before he mastered himself. "The counsellor awaits in the library," he breathed. "He prepares the moment of your public return."
I glanced at Balqis; she gripped the mysterious scroll beneath her cloak, her heartbeat almost audible, as if the parchment itself enclosed a destiny no foe could withstand, though none yet knew its contents. "I will not linger long in private," she said. "I must speak with Khazabla at once and set the missing letters upon their places."
I signaled my men forward to guard our route, then led her through a chain of lateral halls until we reached the deep library where so many covert councils had met. I preceded her, pushing the heavy door; within stood jars of brittle manuscripts and shelves crammed with skins penned in al Haddad's day and long before. At the far end a great candle flamed, its light flickering across a face bent in concentration Khazabla, poring over documents sealed with royal wax.
Relief, cautious yet unmistakable, softened his brow as his eyes lifted to the queen approaching with deliberate grace, her presence declaring without a word: I have returned tamper with my sovereignty no longer. He set aside his papers and stepped toward her, bowing low before meeting her gaze.
"My lady, praise the Sun for your safe return. I never doubted you would come back, yet the court has swarmed with endless questions. It is our fortune that the shadow preserved your throne from many snares in your absence."
She answered, her voice frail with fatigue yet rolling beneath with iron: "I never doubted your craft, Khazabla nor the shadow's vigilance. Without that trust I would not have risked leaving the crown beneath their eyes."
His glance shone with satisfied pride. I lifted a hand, requesting leave to brief her. "In recent days the high priest has grown bold, speaking openly of the need for spiritual regency. Hamdan ibn Riyan likewise presses for a tribal council to share your rule. Your sudden absence emboldened their tests."
The queen's brow arched. She stepped to a small table in the library's center and laid the scroll upon it as gently as one sets down a heart. Khazabla eyes narrowed to the depth of a well.
"What is it you have brought us, Majesty?" he asked.
"They have long blinded themselves to a truth I now hold in my grasp. I shall set it before them when their masks begin to crack, and their arguments will melt away."
She raised her head; an uncanny gleam quickened in her eyes. Khazabla lips curled in a knowing smile, sensing how perfectly her trophy harmonized with the net he had been weaving. A single, slight inclination of his chin told me all: our slow game had driven the enemy into revealing every card, and the snare was nearly shut.
Just then one of my night runners slipped inside, breathless, to murmur that Hamdan ibn Riyan and a knot of chieftains planned an assembly on the morrow in the great banquet hall an open challenge to the absent Queen. Balqis lifted her proud head as though dust had fallen from her design. "So, they would meet to denounce my weakness and secrecy? Very well: I shall grant them a public audience they cannot deny."
Before I could speak, Khazabla anticipated me. "Let them display their accusations unchecked. When they have emptied their quivers, the Queen will enter at the pivotal stroke. We shall see what claims remain."
He said it as a master move on a chessboard against opponents who fancy themselves grand masters. A chill of confidence coursed through me; I felt I stood within a whirl protected by iron minds. Turning to Balqis, whose body still bore the desert's wounds, I ventured, "Majesty, you should rest a few hours before this encounter. Even a brief respite let me summon a hot bath, food"
She offered no protest, though weariness rasped beneath her voice of iron. "My strength will return quickly. Tomorrow is long, and the people must not behold a weary sovereign must they?"
We all inclined our heads. Khazabla stepped closer to the scroll lying on the table; candlelight danced upon its tight spiral. "My lady… what portent is this? Does it bear the signature of the Sun itself?"
A radiant smile equal parts tenderness and unassailable power crossed her lips. "Do not forget that al Haddad's blood is no common ichor. We have trodden a road beyond imagination to prove that the Sun distinguishes neither male nor female when it chooses a ruler. Tomorrow Hamdan, the high priest, and every doubter will learn whence the true authority of Sheba rises."
Khazabla nodded, silent admiration in his eyes, then turned to me with that crisp look I knew so well. "Place the Shadow Guard throughout the hall. Eyes open prevent any rash act the instant the revelation comes. I desire no blood, if it can be forestalled."
"At your command. We shall be in every corner; nothing will escape us."
We ended swiftly to grant the Queen her rest. I escorted her and her spent companions to a secluded wing no patrolling servant dared approach. At the threshold I lingered to watch her pass, desert dust still trailing from her cloak, fingers clenched around the dizzying proof bestowed by a relentless fate.
Silence gathered after her footfalls died away. I studied the palace corridors mazes hollowed of life from the hour Balqis vanished. Tomorrow those who presumed to diminish her will meet a storm that cannot be quenched. Inwardly I smiled, thanking the gods for her return and for the privilege of witnessing, from behind the veil of darkness, the next chapter of her reign, decided before a public council certain to become a stage for new history.