It wasn’t a lie. The Regent had summoned him, and when he arrived, the Regent dismissed all those around him, so that Damen was alone at his chair. At the end of the softly lit hall, it was a private audience.
Around them, heavy with food and wine, the noise of the court was warm and loosened. Damen made all the deferences that protocol required. The Regent spoke.
‘I suppose it excites a slave to plunder the treasures of a prince. You have taken my nephew?’
Damen stayed very still; he tried not to disturb the air when he breathed. ‘No, Your Highness.’
‘The other way around, perhaps.’
‘No.’
‘Yet you eat out of his hand. The last time I spoke to you, you wished him flogged. How else do you account for the change?’
You won’t like my riposte, Laurent had said.
Damen said, carefully, ‘I’m in his service. I have that lesson written on my back.’
The Regent gazed at him for a while. ‘I’m almost disappointed, if it’s no more than that. Laurent could benefit from a steadying influence, someone close to him with his best interests at heart. A man with sound judgement, who could help guide him without being swayed.’
‘Swayed?’ said Damen.
‘My nephew is charming, when he wishes it. His brother was a true leader, he could inspire extraordinary loyalty from his men. Laurent has a superficial version of his brother’s gifts, which he uses to get his own way. If anyone could have a man eating from the hand that struck him, it’s my nephew,’ said the Regent. ‘Where is your loyalty?’
And Damen understood that he was not being asked a question. He was being given a choice.
He badly wanted to step across the chasm that separated the two factions of this court: on the other side was this man who had long since won his respect. It was grittily painful for him to realise that it was not in his nature to do that—not while Laurent was acting on his behalf. If Laurent was acting on his behalf . . . even if Laurent was acting on his behalf, he had so little stomach for the drawn out game that was being played tonight. And yet.
‘I’m not the man you want,’ he said. ‘I don’t have influence over him. I’m not close to him. He has no love for Akielos, or its people.’
The Regent gave him another long, considering look.
‘You are honest. That is pleasing. As for the rest, we will see. That will do for now,’ said the Regent. ‘Go and fetch me my nephew. I prefer him not to be left alone with Torveld.’
‘Yes,
Your Highness.’
He wasn’t sure why it felt like reprieve, but it did.
A few inquiries made of other servants, and Damen learned that Laurent and Torveld had retreated once again to one of the balconies, escaping the stifling crush inside the palace.
Reaching the balcony, Damen slowed. He could hear the sound of their voices. He looked back at the thronging court chamber; he was out of sight of the Regent. If Laurent and Torveld were discussing trade negotiations, it would be better to delay a little, and give them whatever extra time they might need.
‘—told my advisors that I was past the age to be distracted by beautiful young men,’ he heard Torveld say, and it was suddenly eminently clear that they were not discussing trade negotiations.
It was a surprise, but on reflection, it had been happening all night. That a man of Torveld’s honourable reputation would choose Laurent as the object of his affections was difficult to swallow, but perhaps Torveld admired reptiles. Curiosity blossomed. There had been no topic that engendered more speculation than this one among courtiers and members of the Prince’s Guard alike. Damen paused, and listened.
‘And then I met you,’ said Torveld, ‘and then I spent an hour in your company.’
‘More than an hour,’ said Laurent. ‘Less than a day. I think you get distracted more easily than you admit.’
‘And you not at all?’
There was a slight pause in the rhythm of their exchange.
‘You . . . have been listening to gossip.’
‘Is it true, then?’