Kadou twitched at that. “No,” he said, his voice clearer now, more determined. “No, I’m all right.”
“You had a lot of wine, Highness,” Evemer said softly. “You should drink something.”
“Fine. I can put myself to bed, though. I don’t need . . . nurse-maiding, despite all appearances to the contrary.”
“No one thinks you need nursemaiding,” Tadek said. He dipped forward to press a kiss to Kadou’s temple and got up. “I’ll fetch something for you.”
“Please go back to sleep after that,” Kadou said. “I’m fine now. I won’t let them wake you again.”
Tadek gave him a surprised look, which Kadou, who was looking at the floor, entirely missed. “Are you sure, Highness?” he said, politely. “As you know, I’m happy to—”
“Yes, I know,” Kadou said. “I don’t need anything else. Please go. I already feel guilty for disturbing you.”
Tadek nodded slowly and left, passing Evemer without a glance.
He and Kadou waited there in the near dark, while the few lamps in the room guttered and wavered now and again. That unpleasant feeling was coiling and writhing in his chest, unidentifiable. He ought to say something. He ought to do something.
The force of that last thought finally sparked his limbs into motion again, breaking his paralysis. Evemer put out a few of the lamps, went to the bedroom, turned back the blankets, and loosened the ties of the bed’s curtains without fully undoing them. He came back into the parlor just as a soft knock came at the door, which he answered. Eozena stood on the threshold with a steaming cup. She handed it to him silently, only glancing over his shoulder and tilting her head toward Kadou inquisitively.Is he well?
Evemer nodded in reply.
“I’m taking a watch here,” she said, just above a whisper. “Tadek went to bed, and Melek is ready to take over whenever you’d—”
“No,” Evemer said. “His Highness may require something else. Tell çir to sleep while çe can.”
The commander nodded, and Evemer shut the door, glancing down at the hot earthenware cup in his hand—salep, thick and milky, with a dusting of cinnamon across the top. He crossed the room and pushed it into Kadou’s hands, forcing the prince’s fingers to wrap around the cup’s handle.
Kadou shivered a little and cradled it close to his chest, sipping it quietly. He said nothing else.
“Do you require anything else, Highness?” Evemer said.
Kadou shook his head.
“Drink, please,” Evemer said, and Kadou sipped slowly, his expression still drawn and wrecked.
When he’d finished the cup, he rose on his own power and dragged himself to his bedroom, shedding the outer layers of his clothing onto the floor while Evemer followed in his wake and picked them up.
Kadou fell face-first into bed. He was asleep before he even got the blankets arranged around himself. Evemer pulled them over him, feeling strangely neutral about the whole affair—as if he wereholdinghimself in neutrality by sheer willpower. Two hours ago he would have been frustrated, exasperated, angry. Two hours ago he would have resented Kadou for—for weakness, or cowardice. He would have wondered—demanded, really—why Kadou couldn’t be a better prince.
And now?
He stood there in the near dark with only one candle and moonlight, and he looked hard at Kadou’s still figure, curled up small and tight in the center of the mattress.
He opened the door and slipped out into the corridor. Eozena, leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow. “I’m coming back in a minute,” Evemer said. She nodded silently.
Evemer went to the primaries’ quarters and opened the door.
Melek had a lamp lit, still. Çe was curled up in bed, quiet but awake, and Tadek was sitting on the edge of Evemer’s bed on the other side of the room, leaning with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between. Evemer shut the door behind him.
“I apologize for dragging you out of bed so abruptly,” Evemer said, when Tadek looked up at him.
Tadek shook his head immediately. “If that happens again, you drag me out of bed by my hair if you need to. But you won’t need to.”
“Is he sick, Tadek?” Melek asked quietly. “We should have been told, if he were sick.”
“Not sick in the body, no,” Tadek said slowly. “Not sick in a way that a physician could help. Not as far as I’ve been able to tell. But,” and he looked at them both fiercely in turn, “you mustn’t tell anyone about it. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so keep your traps shut.”
“How many times have you seen that happen?” Evemer asked quietly.