“Hello,” said Evemer. “Your Highness.”
“Your Highness, this is Evemer Hoskadem, newly promoted to first lieutenant in Her Majesty’s service.” She pronounced his first name with a little of the city accent, closer toAfennür,the standard form—not the worst mispronunciation he’d ever heard, but he was used to it and had learned to answer to it. “I will personally vouch for his loyalty and devotion to duty—I would quite readily trust him with any of my own secrets, were I required to confide them in someone, and I assure you on my honor that you can do the same. He is the best we have, and I know he will serve you well.” Evemer heard the praise distantly, like it was someone talking in the next room. He was too busy schooling his face into blankness. Duty, yes.
He was not serving this . . . man. He was serving Her Majesty and Commander Eozena. He was obeyingtheircommands. “I am honored to serve, Your Highness,” he said, because that was nearly true.
“Hoskadem, His Highness Prince Kadou. I trust he needs no other introduction.”
“No, Commander,” said Evemer.
“Good,” said the commander. “You’ll be His Highness’s primary until further notice. If you have any questions, please consider me your first resource.” This was said with enough of an edge that it wasn’t, apparently, empty invitation. She sketched an alarmingly casual bow to the prince. “Unless you need anything else from me, I’ll excuse myself,” she said, and His Highness nodded morosely.
The door clicked behind her as she left.
Silence settled into the room like a cat curling up in a basket.
Evemer was completely at a loss for what to do or say. He stared hard at His Highness, studying his face, his hands. He was wearing a loosely belted dressing gown over his snow-white underlayer, and his hair was tousled. No one had bothered yet to groom and arrange it. No one had even bothered to give him a shave.
Evemer clenched his jaw. He’d been under the impression that there were certain standards in the Gold Court. Someone should have attended His Highness this morning. Even if Evemer was the new primary, there was no reason to wait for him to arrive and be officially appointed and introduced—someoneshould have attended Prince Kadou. It would be shameful, a dishonor onEvemer,if His Highness were to appear like this in front of anyone else.
The prince looked . . . unhappy. Tense. Perhaps he knew something of Evemer. Perhaps he was just as disappointed with this situation as Evemer was.
Likely he would have preferred it to be one of his favorites. Like that Tadek Hasira. Hislover.
Everyone in the garrison knew about Tadek—when Evemer had still been on fringe-duty, he’d known about Tadek. Even before then, from their time as cadets in the kahyalar academy together years and years ago, Evemer had been vaguely aware of Tadek, and he had despised him almost instantly. They had never spoken, so far as Evemer could remember, and Evemer had never heard anything about the man that would recommend him: Tadek was vain and had a reputation for being rather free with his affections. He wasn’t serious; he was careless, flighty, and negligent—qualities he shared with the prince, evidently.
And, of course, he too was also directly responsible for the deaths of two good and loyal kahyalar.
Tadek should have been court-martialed for his part in what he’d done, but the prince had saved his life, though none of last night’s gossip could quite agree on the exact truth of what had happened. Evemer had collected at least eight different ludicrous tales from twelve different kahyalar and cadets, and the only thing that was the same across all of them was that the prince—thisprince, this careless, flighty, negligent man—had knelt at Her Majesty’s feet to ask her to show his lover mercy instead of allowing him take his punishment with honor.
No wonder they were lovers. They must get along splendidly.
His Highness seemed . . . shy? He kept glancing at Evemer and away, worrying his lip with his teeth, his brow all twisted up. The sign of a guilty conscience, maybe, or perhaps a simple weakness of character.
“I’m sorry about this,” His Highness said suddenly.
He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded like he was offering words to Evemer like carefully arranged sweets on a tray at a banquet.
“I beg your pardon, Highness?”
His Highness looked away, then down at his hands, twisting in his lap. Evemer took the opportunity to freely clench his jaw. What sort of a prince was this, who couldn’t even look at the person he spoke to? “I suppose you know that I’m not exactly held in high favor at the moment.”
“Your Highness,” said Evemer.
“I don’t want you to think that—that you’re being punished, or that this is going to be an obstacle to the advancement of your career.”
Of course he hadn’t been thinking such a thing—
Her Majesty had appointed him to this post specifically. “Is there anything that Your Highness requires?”His Highness sighed and looked at the breakfast things, looked down into his cup—coffee rather than tea. Rather luxurious for so early in the morning, Evemer thought. If His Highness had regretted yesterday’s events in the slightest, he might have confined himself to more humble and modest fare to reflect his repentance. Evemer eyed the myriad array of small plates and bowls on the table as well, far more food than one person could eat—several kinds of cheese, olives, eggs poached in red sauce, a startling selection of jams, su borek, sliced and fried sausage, and three types of bread. One of the breads was the same ring-shaped, sesame-crusted simit that Evemer and his mother ate in their own house—this, of all things, gave him pause. It was a ubiquitous bread down in the city, one that everyone ate. But Evemer hadn’t expected “everyone” to include the prince.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
Frustrated and angry, he decided after a moment’s reflection. Princes were notnormal people,so they oughtn’t eat the same foods that normal people did.
“If you’ll summon a cadet to clear breakfast away,” His Highness said, and got to his feet. He still wore sleep trousers beneath his underlayer, and his feet were bare. “And then I suppose you can come dress me.”
When the first order had been attended to, Evemer silently followed deeper into the prince’s apartments—the other door in the room led into a bedchamber, as expansive and airy as the parlor had been, though since they were both north-facing, the light was a little dim. His Highness was standing at a massive wardrobe, rummaging shoulder-deep. At the front of the shelves, Evemer could see dozens of neatly folded robes and kaftans in colors as bright as flowers and butterfly wings, but deeper within there was the rustle of paper—the finer and more rarely worn items, he could guess.
His Highness pulled out a parcel and unwrapped it. He nodded, tossed it onto the bed, and turned to Evemer. To his credit (and Evemer begrudged him even this), he didn’t ask if Evemer knew what he was doing—Evemer wouldn’t have been allowed within a hundred yards of these apartments if he didn’t meet the required standards of the position.