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Lady Hababa lay in her room, her hands fidgeting restlessly with the bed-covers and her face troubled. It was awful to be always in her room, unable to get up and move about. She knew that things were ill with the world outside, but she could not know what was happening unless Korak told her. She had no way to prepare for disaster, or to try to stop it. She would not see it until it had already fallen.
She feared much for her son. Arshalous, his own cousin, hated him. If his own cousin hated him, surely there were countless others. And these were days where murder would seem such a little thing. Even Gjeelea...
Hababa was so fond of Gjeelea. She had to care for her simply because she was her son's wife; but she also loved her for herself. But she could not deny that Gjeelea detested Korak. She had married him so she would have a husband. But she cared nothing for him. There were so many, from so many different places... how many enemies there were!
"I would not care if they killed me," she said aloud, but in a murmur. "I almost wish they would. But I could not bear for them to kill my son! I cannot believe it would be better if he were dead."
She was weary. She lay her head back with a little sigh and closed her eyes.
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