A/N: Hello everyone, sorry for the lack of updates lately. I just started a new job and by the time I get home I end up just falling asleep. However I love these characters and I definitely want to keep writing and finish this story. In the mean time here's a short update. Please enjoy!

Chapter 25

It was a quiet morning, Schehera thought to herself as she stared out the window of her prison. Even with the doors unlocked and the windows wide open she felt suffocated. Her chest felt heavy, then again that may have been due to her organs being pushed aside to make way for the tiny human growing inside her. It was insane to think about, she was about to become a mother, and she was terrified. However every time she thought about holding the child in her arms, she was a little less scared. Yes, focus on the child, she told herself. Focus on the tiny new life being created inside of her, think of the giggle and laughs, the sleepless nights and the crying. Focus on the future, focus on the baby, focus... but she was alone now... trapped in a glass tower...

No, don't think about the civil war, she told herself as she gently stroked her pregnant belly, humming to her unborn child a soft lullaby, however she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Yussel lower his arm, no one called him Joel here, not since his brother.

"Milady," he said hesitantly. Schehera recognised the expression on his face, a mix of concern and discontent, only one man in recent times evoked such feelings in her guard. "Milady, you have a visitor. He-"

Schehera gently smiled at him, perhaps it was all the wonderful endorphins her body was recently producing, however it seemed like nothing could bother her today, not even that man. "Let him in."

"Of course milady," Yussel sighed. While that man never forced Schehera to see him, every time she turned him away he would return the next day to ask again, regardless of the busy schedule that resulted from his new position, he would always return.

"You look well today," commented the newly dethroned King as he sat down on the window sill beside her.

"I'm having a good day," Schehera replied. "I felt the baby kick for the first time."

"That's..." Sinbad was at a lost for words.

"Good," Schehera finished his sentence for him.

"Y-yes, good, I guess...yes, that's the right word," Sinbad nodded. He reached out to hold her hand, however she pulled away before he could. His expression didn't change as he processed this, she still wouldn't let him so much as touch her, however she hadn't thrown her teapot at him (yet) which was an improved. Yes, things were getting better. She was here, beside him, no one could take her away. Not Huang, not Kou, and certainly not Kouen. "What do you intend to do today?" he asked her.

"Raeca and Chris brought back some nice fabrics and threads from Huang," Schehera replied. "We're going to attempt at making clothes for the baby." Focus on the baby, the future...

"I've got back to back meetings with traders from all over the world all day today, every day," Sinbad sighed. "They all want the same thing, say the same thing..."

"They tell you what they think you want to hear," Schehera had heard this story before, many times.

"Yes! They fawn and-" Sinbad sighed. He looked tired, Schehera noted. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "Never mind them, but I need to go. I could only get away for 5 minutes to see you, but now that I have I feel a lot better."

"Have a nice day," she said as he left. "Perhaps not so much," she muttered to herself under her breath.

Schehera's eyes snapped open as she sat up, those dreams again... Sinbad... she shook her head. Why was she dreaming of him so much lately? Was it Zepar's effects? Did the spell on her bracelet wear off, then again did it ever work to begin with? Regardless, she needed to learn how to remove Sinbad's magoi from within her. That was why she was here in Reim in the first place. Yet as she looked around she asked herself if she had deviated slightly from her path, it'd been a week since she entered the colosseum and the Yambala tribe had refused to train her. As a result she found herself drinking, gambling and partying away a weeks worth of winning in one night.

She looked to her left to see Raeca sound asleep on the ground beside her, she looked comfortable. Then again, it was just like any other night for the high class courtesan.

XXX

A deafening cheer erupted through the colosseum, the crowd stood on their feet in both in awe and anticipation of the next match. Not only was the fighter undefeated, but she had dispatched her last four opponents in record time, no one had stood a chance against her, no one could even lay a scratch.

"The audience is certainly excited," a petite blonde female commented from her own designated balcony in the audience.

"Well she has yet to lose," her guard, who was easily as excited as the rest of them, commented.

Wise eyes watched as the gladiators made their way into the arena. "Sad eyes..." she noted with a sigh.

"You don't seem at all enthusiastic about the upcoming match, Scheherazade-sama."

"I have no taste for such spectacle," was the response as the magi got up to leave. "Stay if you wish Muu, I don't see why you should miss out on my account. Enjoy the match."

"Thank you very much, Scheherazade-sama. I will."

Xxx

Schehera gently tilted her head to the left stretching out the ligaments in her neck, there was a kink that had been bugging her since the day before and it had yet to go away. She tilted her head to the other side, if she had to guess it was the stiff beds in the dorm rooms of the colosseum that were the cause. Calling them beds were a little generous, they were essentially slabs of stone with a thin mattress stuffed with hay on top... in fact that was exactly what they were. Then again, it could be sleeping on the floor last night.

She eyed her opponent, another neanderthal with more muscle than sense, he was easily 4, perhaps even 5 times her size, not that it would do him much good. His arms were over developed and his back muscle lacked the strength to support his bulk. On the other hand while Schehera was slender, she had not added any extra muscle mass to her frame not out of vanity but practicality, unlike Masrur whose body naturally leaned towards a sturdier build, for Schehera the give and take required for her to do so was simply not worth it. Years of travelling and fighting had taught her that her greatest strength did not reside in brute force (despite Kouen begging to differ) but her almost cat like grace and lightning reflexes. Despite her djinn's abilities, living on the road meant that at times even the most basic of things such as food and shelter were out of reach, as such to conserve energy Schehera used the most minimal of effort for every movement, her technique was not flashy nor ostentatious, however what use were they when you were dead? She knew her body well and there was not an inch of excess anywhere on her body, a perfect balance of strength and flexibility.

Schehera sighed. What was she doing here? To have to fight against an opponent who placed such value on vanity over ability irritated her. The quality of gladiators had certainly fallen over the years... or perhaps she had simply gotten too strong.

"Leave, I have nothing to teach you," said the large man with a muscular build. He had long white hair which extended past his shoulders and was kept in a bow on the left side of his head.

"What?"

"Leave, I have nothing to teach you here."

"Leave? I am better than all you're pupils and I came here to YOU, to learn, to fight! I didn't travel across the world to be turned away."

'Well too bad girl, I have nothing for you to learn here. Why don't you hurry back home and find yourself a nice man to settle down with?"

"How DARE you!"

There was a long silence and the old man simply stared at Schehera. "You," he frowned as he looked Schehera up and down. "You're royalty aren't you?"

Schehera didn't hesitate with her response. "Not at all, what makes you say that?"

The man shrugged as he stroked his beard. "I've met many rulers in my time. Kings and Emperors who were born into their position. Generals and Ministers who rose to power. Even a lad who formed his own country. The good ones, they're born with the divine right to rule, even those fathered by a common fisherman. Nothing can keep them down, not a lack of power or even status, they always find a way."

Sinbad, Schehera realised, he was talking about Sinbad. Who else in recent memory had done such a thing.

"All the good ones, they all had one thing in common. They knew what they wanted, and they went for it. They were ruthless in their ambition, determined and confident in not only themselves but their vision. I've seen the look in their eyes, you have that same look," the old man commented.

"Me? I'm the least driven person I know. I wander from place to place, I don't even know what I want," Schehera scoffed at the notion.

"But when you do, you always get it, don't you girl?"

Schehera couldn't respond.

"Deny all you wish. However you are right, you ARE better than all my current pupils. They could learn something from you. Stay as long as you wish, the crowd loves a pretty face and I find that it's always the pretty fighters that you have to look out for. If you think about it, if someone's all gnarled up and you can see that they've been through some battles, it's because they suck and have taken a few hits. The pretty one are the ones that don't get hit and do the hitting. Mind you, I'm talking about the pretty FIGHTERS, not your every day person that's walking on the street."