I've never met anyone of the Pasha's daughters until recently. Meral was the only one without antenna of any sort and her skin was actually fair instead of dark and ruddy as her siblings. I'm starting to believe she was fostered into the family. On that day, it made me almost certain she wasn't a true blooded royal.
The first time I noticed her, Oz and I were in the barter courtyard when a man roared screaming down the pathway wearing writhing armor of a reddish black iridescence. His screams were high pitched and frantic in an almost comical way. He flailed and turned about as if someone dropped ice down the back of his clothing. As he neared, an evenly pitched hum grew louder and what first appeared to be the man's armor were in fact many of hundreds of collected carpenter bees.
Oz and I both watched in amazement as he passed, knocking over wares and people alike while straggling bees fought to catch up to their target. Not long after, the girl came skipping, rich in maniacal laughter and eyes ablaze. In her arms she carried a large wooden container, the lid having been removed, bees still making their now sporadic exits to join chase.
On her exposed left cheek was a garishly red hand print.