Radel, clearly disapproving of the fact that Damen was being taken into refined company, delivered a peripatetic lecture, striding up and down in Damen’s room. Few pets were invited to serve their masters at the high table. To offer him this opportunity, the Prince must see something in Damen that surpassed Radel’s understanding. It was pointless to instruct someone like Damen in the rudiments of polite etiquette, but he should try to keep silent, obey the Prince and refrain from attacking or molesting anyone.
In Damen’s experience, being taken out of his rooms at Laurent’s request did not end well. His three excursions had comprised the ring, the gardens and the baths, with a subsequent trip to the flogging post.
His back was by now mostly healed, but that was of no consequence; the next time Laurent struck out, it would not be directly at him.
Damen had very little power, but there was a crack that ran right down the middle of this court. If Laurent would not be persuaded, Damen must turn his attention to the Regent’s faction.
Out of habit, he observed the security outside of his room. They were on the second floor of the palace, and the passage they walked along had a number of windows fretted by grilles, looking out on an uninviting sheer drop. They also passed a number of armed men, all wearing the livery of the Prince’s Guard. Here were the guards that had been absent from the pet residences. A surprising number of men: they could not all be here for his benefit. Did Laurent keep this kind of security about him all the time?
They passed through a pair of ornate bronze doors and Damen realised that he had been brought into Laurent’s own chambers.
Damen’s eyes raked the interior derisively. These rooms were everything he would have expected of a princeling pampered lavishly, extravagantly, beyond reason. Decoration overran everything. The tiles were patterned, the walls intricately carved. The vantage was enchanting; this second-floor chamber had a loggia of semi-circular arches that hung above gardens. Through an archway the bedchamber could be seen. The bed was swathed in sumptuous curtains, a panoply of luxurious embellishment and carved wood. All that was missing was a rumpled, perfumed trail of clothing strewn across the floor, and a pet lounging on one of the silk-draped surfaces.
There was no such evidence of habitation. In fact, amid the opulence, there were only a few personal effects. Close to Damen was a reclining couch and a book, fanned open, revealing illuminated pages and scrollwork glinting with gold leaf. The leash Damen had worn in the gardens also lay on the couch, as though tossed there casually.
Laurent emerged from the bedchamber. He had not yet closed the delicate band that collared his shirt, and white laces trailed, exposing the hollow of his throat. When he saw that Damen had arrived, he paused beneath the archway.
‘Leave us,’ said Laurent.
He spoke to the handlers who had brought Damen to this chamber. They freed Damen from his restraints and departed.
‘Stand up,’ said Laurent.
Damen stood. He was taller than Laurent, and physically stronger, and wearing no restraints at all. And they were alone together, as they had been last night, as they had been in the baths. But something was different. He realised that at some point he had begun to think of being alone in a room with Laurent as dangerous.
Laurent detached himself from the doorway. As he drew close to Damen, his expression soured, his blue eyes curdled with distaste.
Laurent said, ‘There is no bargain between us. A prince does not make deals with slaves and insects. Your promises are worth less to me than dirt. Do you understand me?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Damen.
Laurent was staring at him coldly. ‘Torveld of Patras may be persuaded to request that the slaves go with him to Bazal, as part of the trade deal being negotiated with my uncle.’
Damen felt his brow furrow. This information did not make sense.
‘If Torveld insists strongly enough, I think my uncle will agree to some sort of—loan—or, more accurately, a permanent arrangement couched as a loan, so that it will not offend our allies in Akielos. It’s my understanding that Patran sensibilities regarding the treatment of slaves are similar to your own.’
‘They are.’
‘I have spent the afternoon seeding the idea with Torveld. The deal will be finalised tonight. You will accompany me to the entertainments. It is my uncle’s custom to conduct business in relaxed surroundings,’ said Laurent.
‘But—’ said Damen.
‘But?’ Icily.
Damen rethought that particular approach.
He turned over the information he’d just been given. Re-examined it. Turned it over again.
‘What changed your mind?’ Damen said, carefully.
Laurent didn’t answer him, just looked at him with hostility. ‘Don’t speak, unless you’re asked a question. Don’t contradict anything that I say. These are the rules. Break them and I will joyfully leave your countrymen to rot.’ And then: ‘Bring me the leash.’
The staff to which the leash was affixed had the heavy weight of pure gold. The fragile chain was intact; it had either been repaired or replaced. Damen picked it up, not very quickly.
‘I’m not sure that I believe anything that you’ve just told me,’ Damen said.
‘Do you have a choice?’