“Erg.” Tristan lunged for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
He distinctly remembered a sign on the door proclaiming this was the male servants’ bathing room. Unless he’d misread it. Which did happen, but he’d only seen men come in so far. These two women were dressed in lavish flowing silks that showed an impressive amount of cleavage, and their hair and makeup were done up extravagantly. He recognized them from the royal seats in the arena and knew they weren’t servants. He was almost positive they were two of the sultan’s daughters, but that huge family was still a blur to him. He’d researched them on the flight out of System Lion and tried to memorize names and faces, but he’d found the sheer number of wives and daughters—and nieces—the sultan claimed daunting.
“There he is. What ever is taking you so long, handsome knight?” One woman came up and planted a hand on his bare chest.
The other woman looked him brazenly up and down.
“This android insisted I need a haircut.” Tristan did his best to appear manly and unflustered by this unexpected attention. He’d been approached a lot more frequently by women, even beautiful women, since being made a knight, but this was the first time it had happened in a men’s bathroom.
“Oh, no. You can’t trust an android’s tastes. It’s delightful. I like it tousled.” The closest woman reached up and rubbed his head.
Tristan swallowed, fearing certain body parts were about to embarrass him. She was very beautiful, as were most of the people here who weren’t servants—Tristan assumed some degree of genetic engineering was at work. She was not, however, his mission, and he couldn’t invite distractions.
He gripped her wrist gently and pushed it aside. “I must dress for my new duties.”
“Yes, yes, to protect our dear sister, Nalini. I must warn you…” The woman lowered her voice to a whisper. “She’s not much fun. I’m Fadime, and I want to formally invite you to my room tonight, or any night that you’re bored. She will bore you. I promise.” She oozed closer and batted her eyelashes at him.
Tristan stepped back, lifting a hand to keep her from closing the distance again. “I’m not here for the entertainment.”
“No?” the other sister said. “You entertained us in the arena. We would be delighted to return the favor.”
“That’s not necessary,” Tristan said.
The door opened again, and he braced himself for another sister. But a man entered this time. He was also not a servant, judging by the haughty tilt to his chin and the fact that he wore flamboyant purple silk pantaloons and a green tunic, both very different from the black uniform Tristan had been given. The man had fine features and looked like he’d never lifted anything heavier than a nail file, but when he rolled his eyes at the two women, Tristan thought he might be an ally.
“Esrin. Fadime,” he said. “Nalini is waiting impatiently for her bodyguard to attend her.”
“I’ll just bet she is.” Fadime looked Tristan up and down again.
Tristan waved to the android. “Will you finish whatever ministrations you deem necessary?”
“Certainly, sir.” The android approached with an electric beard trimmer. “I was uncertain if you would wish to have coitus with the princesses first.”
“No, I do not.”
“I knew I liked you.” The silk-swathed man smirked as the women pouted and sashayed out. “And not just because you punched that crotch-grabber in the nose. Well, no, it was mostly that, but I see you have other positive attributes.” He walked up and stuck his hand out. “I’m Samar, Nalini’s favorite brother.”
Tristan held up his towel with one hand and accepted the handshake with the other. “Is that her descriptor or yours?”
“Mine, but she knows it’s true. We’re the only of the sultan’s children to share the same mother, though she has unfortunately passed on. But that just means we’re close.” Since Samar smiled easily as he spoke, his mother’s death must have been a long time in the past and not an open wound. “You’re from the Kingdom?”
“Yes.” Tristan saw no point in hiding his origins, since the sisters had already known he was a knight. He hoped that was all they knew, that the sultan’s intelligence people had only picked up the cover story the king had circulated. “I was from the Kingdom. I have no home now.”
The android waved for Tristan to sit on the stool while he performed the hair and beard trim.
“You’ll do all right here if you obey the sultan’s laws and don’t vex Nalini too much,” Samar said.
“Is that easy to do?”
Thanks to his earlier research, Tristan had identified Nalini before the arena fights had started. She’d been invited to sit next to the sultan, so the rumor that she was his favorite daughter seemed accurate. He didn’t remember much about her, even though he’d bowed to her after each victory. He’d seen her as a visual representation of the goal that Jager had given him, so it had helped to lock her in his mind before each bout.
“Oh, not really,” Samar said. “She’s not prickly, like some of our sisters, but she is dedicated to her work and a determined woman. She doesn’t abide men or women who get in her way.”
“She works?” Tristan had imagined all of these princes and princesses being largely ornamental, with no real function other than to be married off to establish alliances.
“Obsessively.” Samar, seeing that the hair trimming was complete, waved for Tristan to dress and follow him. “And she’s probably impatient since she’s been waiting outside this whole time. She’s not the type to barge into a men’s bathroom, unless it’s to grab him by the ear and drag him off to do some work. I suppose that could happen if we dawdle further.”
“I’d like to think I’ve shown myself capable of defending my ears.” Nonetheless, Tristan hurried to dress. He hadn’t known Nalini was waiting outside. He’d imagined her off doing princess things, content to let the android instruct him on palace protocol.
“From physical assaults, perhaps. How well can they stand up to diatribes on the difficulty of finding properties in markets where an appropriate rent-to-value ratio can be had?” Samar winked, the exit door sliding open as he approached.
“I’m… not sure yet. Squires and knights get free room and board. Rent values aren’t much discussed.”
“Rent to value,” Nalini said from the corridor, pinning a cool gaze on Samar. “Ideally, you want to get at least one percent of the property’s overall value in the rent each month, since that brings in enough money to cover the mortgage, insurance, and necessary repairs. That’s difficult to find in the overpriced speculative markets pervasive in so much of the system. You have to make your own opportunities to obtain a good rent to value ratio.”
Samar lifted his hands. “I didn’t say it. You’ll have to explain it to your bodyguard. I understand he’s fascinated by real estate.”
Nalini looked at Tristan, their eyes meeting for the first time since the arena, where fifty meters and dozens of people had sat between them. Hers were a dark brown, almost black, similar in color to the thick, lush hair tumbling in waves past her shoulders. Her skin was somewhere between olive and bronze, free of blemishes or scars, and lighter on makeup than her sisters had favored. Nalini was as beautiful as they were, with a full figure that the cream-colored shirt and flowing blue trousers didn’t hide, but he sensed a distant aloofness that contrasted sharply with their sultry familiarity.
At Samar’s statement, Nalini’s elegant eyebrows arched. “Is that true?”
For some reason, a part of him wished he could say yes, but he shook his head. “I believe your brother is mocking me, ma’am—Your Highness.” Tristan wasn’t used to being around royalty except for infrequent interactions with King Jager, but there was so much of it here—it seemed that everyone who wasn’t a servant was a member of the sultan’s family—that he would have to get used to using that term. “Or possibly you.”
“Samar.” Nalini swatted him, and a brief playful glint entered her eyes.
“Oh, wonderful. Well—” Nalini looked Tristan up and down with none of the sexual interest that the sisters had displayed, “—let’s go over some things. I have a trip to Oceanus tomorrow, and it seems you’re accompanying me. Come.”
She walked off down the corridor, clearly expecting him to follow.
Samar gave him an encouraging thumbs-up and strolled off the other way.
Tristan jogged to catch up with Nalini, who set a brisk pace. At first, he moved to walk beside her, but then he decided he was probably supposed to trail after her.
Nalini frowned over her shoulder and pointed to the carpeted floor beside her moving feet. She didn’t snap her fingers, but her expression conveyed impatience. And possibly that she didn’t like him. Or want him here. That surprised him. Wouldn’t she have been the one to request a new bodyguard?
Maybe she hadn’t wanted some thug from one of her father’s gladiatorial matches.
“Just tell me what you want.” Tristan moved up to her side. “It’s my first bodyguard gig.”
“That’s comforting.” She shook her head as they stepped into a lift and headed to a higher level.
As they stood side by side, he studied the floor and noticed her shoes for the first time. Since shoe fashion didn’t excite him overmuch—everything he owned was brown or black or gray, aside from the purple cloak that was part of his knight’s uniform—he rarely studied people’s footwear. Hers matched the blue trousers so they hadn’t stood out, but her shoes—or were they slippers?—were fuzzy. Or maybe furry? Thickly furry. Pale blue tassels dangled from the tops like worms slithering through shaggy blue grass.
“You’re not going to be one of those men who makes snide comments about how goofy the latest trends in women’s fashion are, are you?” she asked tartly.
He blushed and looked up. He hadn’t said anything. Admittedly, he’d been staring at her shoes. And the pale blue worms.
“No, Your Highness.” Some less-than-wise part of his brain prompted him to add, “Not out loud.”
“I see.” The lift doors opened, and Nalini stepped out. “I’ll show you my quarters first. You’ll have a little room near the door. It’s Devi’s room now, but I guess she can stay in my bedroom.”
“Devi?” Tristan didn’t remember that name from his research.
“My android assistant and usual bodyguard.” Her lips pinched, and she shot him a dark look.
Ah, so she hadn’t requested a new bodyguard. Had her father insisted? Because of the impending betrothal to Prince Jorg?
“She’ll continue to work for me. You two can jockey for position. I warn you, she has a good hip check.”
Nalini’s delivery came out humorless, so he didn’t know if that was a joke or not.
“I’ll watch my hips,” Tristan said.
“In the morning, I’ll show you my star yacht and where to stow your gear. This will be the first of many trips we take away from the palace. My work as a real-estate developer takes me all around the system and occasionally to other systems, though I suppose Father will object to any long-term travels once this… engagement with your prince is official.” She grimaced.
“He’s not my prince,” Tristan said. “Not anymore.”
If only that were true. He didn’t mind serving Jager, not if it meant he got to continue being a knight, but he hoped he died before Jager did, so he wouldn’t have to serve Jorg.
Nalini stopped in front of a wood door set into an alcove draped with colorful silks and beads. A lock panel glowed softly from the wall.
“Have you met him?” she asked, the firm certainty fading from her voice.
Tristan hesitated. He dared not say anything that would sabotage the prince’s marriage, but he’d consumed tales of knights since long before he’d truly believed he could become one, and their rules of honor and chivalry were ingrained in his soul. It would bother him deeply to lie to a woman.
“A few times. Briefly. I’ve only spoken to him twice.” If it could truly be said that they’d spoken at Sebastian’s funeral.
“What’s he like? I looked up his pictures and biography on the network and some news coverage, but most everything about him is filtered through Kingdom media. They’re known to be biased when it comes to your monarchy.”
“I barely know him, Your Highness. I couldn’t say what he’s truly like.” Tristan remembered the cruel glint in Jorg’s eyes and feared he was being mendacious. He had the gist of what Jorg was like. The prince had been trained as a knight, as tradition dictated the king’s heir must be, but Tristan doubted he’d etched the knight’s code into his heart and soul.
“My bodyguard is evasive. Well, we’re off to a good start, aren’t we?”
Tristan winced, but she’d turned to the door and didn’t see it. He slumped as a scanner read her retina. He’d lied, and Nalini had known he lied. Already, he felt he was failing as a knight.
The door swung open, and they walked into a wide foyer that opened into a suite the size of a house, with an open staircase along one side ascending to a second level. A female android in crisp black and blue business attire stepped out from a dark room to the right. Her silver eyes locked onto Tristan immediately.
“Devi, this is Tristan, my new bodyguard. Tristan, Devi.”
Tristan inclined his head, though he didn’t know if bowing of any sort to an android was required. Was Devi considered his superior because of seniority? Or were they of equal rank?
“He looks smaller up close,” Devi said.
Tristan blinked. “Since I believe android optical sensors are programmed with the same perspective geometry as human eyes have, I don’t think that’s possible.”
Nalini squinted at him. Was he not supposed to joke with the android?
Devi huffed in a realistically human manner. “I meant you’re not that big and muscular. I’m certain I could best you in a fight. And that your services here are unneeded.”
“I hope it’s true that my services are unneeded,” Tristan said. “That would mean no attempts were being made on Princess Nalini’s life. As to the rest, we can test that at some point, if you wish.”
“I’m ready whenever you are, knight boy.” Devi whipped her fists up in a boxer’s stance.
“You want to fight in the foyer?”
“Are you afraid?”
“Cool your drives, Devi." Nalini patted the android on the shoulder. “Go wait in my bedroom, please. We’re giving Tristan this room.”
“What? That’s my room.”
“You can sleep in the zero-gravity chair.”
“Oh, really?” Devi skipped through a living and dining area and disappeared down a hallway.
Tristan scratched his head. “Did that android just skip?”
“Yes. I programmed her when I was eleven. I’ve thought about updating her, but it’s hard to imagine altering someone’s personality after almost fifteen years.”
“You were programming androids when you were eleven?” He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from a princess, but Nalini wasn’t it.
“Yes.” Nalini shrugged and waved to the side room. “There’s a bed and a desk and a tablet you can use. It’s monitored.”
Tristan wasn’t surprised, though it was nice that she’d warned him. He would have to find his Kingdom contact in the palace and relay any messages to Royal Intelligence through him.
“So, I shouldn’t watch naughty vids?” He smiled, intending it as a joke.
“I doubt anyone cares about that,” Nalini said without a reaction, “but you shouldn’t comm Prince Jorg and tell him I’m not the delightful eager-to-please princess he probably thinks I am.” She looked toward a chandelier gilded in gold and diamond dust. “Actually, maybe you should comm him that. So he changes his mind and asks to marry one of my sisters.�
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“I’m certain Jorg wouldn’t accept a comm from me.” Tristan was inclined to leave it at that, not to ask a woman he barely knew what she wanted from life, but he was supposed to be gathering intelligence. He well remembered Jager’s warning that his mission included making sure the princess didn’t run away. “You don’t wish to marry? I thought—well, with our royalty, everyone always assumes they’ll be married off for various alliances. King Jager proposed to Queen Iku of the southern continent because there was some political and cultural strife between the regions, and his father wanted to make sure Odin went into the future united.”
“And is their daughter Princess Oku also expected to marry?”
Tristan was surprised she knew all the members of the Kingdom royal family, but he chastised himself for that. Nalini was clearly educated.
“That’s my understanding, yes. To some prince or king or whatever.” Tristan flicked his fingers. “Presidents aren’t preferred since their reigns are so short.”
“Presidents don’t reign; they preside.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Tristan shrugged easily.
He was used to having his vocabulary corrected. He just hoped she didn’t ask him to read things for her. He already sensed that she was smarter than he was, but he didn’t want to demonstrate that through embarrassment.
“Let me show you the rest of the suite. I’ve always been safe here, but there have been a few incidents with my father, assassins attempting to get to him, sent by the other Union families. The palace habitat houses hundreds and accepts frequent visitors. My father hosts formal dinners and biannual balls, with guest lists as long as a comet’s tail. Devi usually answers the door here if someone comes, but I’ll tell her you want to do that. I assume you do.”
“The android that trimmed my beard informed me that I have to be willing to sacrifice my life for yours. That will be difficult if I’m in the lav while you’re chatting with your assassins at the front door.”
Knight Protector: a Star Kingdom novel Page 4