by Rachel White
"It's hard for me to say." Beside him, Lieutenant Taarq was watching the water. "I'm not sure I'd want to stay so close to the Exalted. I might prefer the distance."
"What do you think they were?" Rallis asked.
"The Exalted?"
"Yes. Do you think they were gods?"
"Gods." Lieutenant Taarq brushed his fingers over one of the hanging plants very carefully. "I don't think so, no."
Rallis sat on a nearby bench, lulled into peaceful drowsiness by the warm scented air, which felt very heavy around him. "So what do you think they were, then?"
"I think…I think they were from another world. I think they came here for a specific purpose and accomplished it and left again."
"What purpose?"
"If I knew the answer to that," said Lieutenant Taarq lightly, "I wouldn't be a mere lieutenant in the legion."
Rustling in the trees nearby made them both start, but no monks emerged to chase them off. Still, Lieutenant Taarq looked wary. "We should probably leave. We're past due for a patrol."
He held out a hand and Rallis took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Upright, they didn't let go immediately. "The Empress is arranging a small party," Lieutenant Taarq told him. His voice was very serious. "Members of the Suulsen will be attending, along with her cabinet and other important members of Jevite society. I think Suul Thrun is pushing for it. He wants something to happen."
Naravi. Rallis's mouth went dry. "I'm sick of him."
"As am I." Finally, Lieutenant Taarq's hand slipped free from his own, though the warmth lingered on Rallis's palm. "It might not be so bad. We just need to be cautious."
Easier said than done. Suul Thrun was no doubt preparing something for the party, some way to provoke Naravi into a wild rage. Or perhaps he intended to target Rallis himself, who, as leader of the rebellion, would be an even better scapegoat for any disasters that might occur. Either way, the idea of attending any parties made Rallis's stomach roll with dread.
But there was no getting out of it. If the empress ordered it, he would dress in Jevite clothes and smile and speak softly and woo people. Nur's heart, he would woo every single person on the gods-damned citadel if it meant he could get Naravi back to Adesa unscathed. He would find a way. He had to.
Chapter Fifteen
The night of the party, Rallis dressed in sedate Jevite clothes and brushed his hair back in Jevite fashion. He removed his earrings, as Jevite style discouraged jewelry, particularly on men. He pulled on gloves and heeled Jevite boots and dabbed on a perfume from a master Jevite perfumer whom Lieutenant Taarq had recommended. His reflection in the mirror looked alarmingly like Orun, but that was all right, Rallis supposed, for Orun had been clever and canny and good at getting himself out of tense situations. If he could imitate his father in behavior, as well as appearance, perhaps he could make it through the night.
Dressed in perfect Jevite fashion, accompanied by Lieutenant Taarq and Legionnaire Saura in formal legion uniforms, he made his way to Naravi's room and knocked, and found himself face-to-face with Lieutenant Harn, who said, "He won't go."
"What?"
"He won't go to the party. He's refusing."
Gods damn it. "Let me speak to him," Rallis snapped, pushing past him. Inside, Naravi was curled up on a window seat on the far side of the room, gazing out over the darkened palace courtyard.
"Naravi."
No response. Naravi didn't even turn around. He was dressed in sleeping clothes, a thin white top and matching trousers, with no shoes or gloves. Ragged pieces of a Jevite jacket were strewn around the floor near his bed. In the corner, one of Lieutenant Harn's legionnaires was hastily sewing buttons onto a shirt.
"What are you doing?" Rallis demanded. "Get dressed. Have you gone mad? Where are your clothes?"
Silence. "He tore up the outfit that was arranged for him," Lieutenant Harn muttered. His eyes were shadowed and wary and his sharp-featured face held new angles. Though he had been doing an admirable job not killing Naravi, their time together was obviously weighing on him. "He said he would rather die than wear it."
Ah, Nur, Rallis wanted to slap Naravi—not to knock any sense into him, but solely for the pleasure of feeling the blow connect. "Is there something else he can wear?"
"I'm sure something can be arranged." This was Lieutenant Taarq, looking anxiously between them. "Legionnaire Saura—"
"Sir?"
"Please take Legionnaire Klin and find something for Citizen Yy to wear tonight."
"Yes, sir." She left, accompanied by the legionnaire in the corner, a slightly built young man with thick black hair and a level, serious expression.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Rallis turned back to the window seat. "Naravi—"
"I'm not going." Naravi was still staring out the window. "I refuse."
"The empress requested we attend."
"She's not my empress." Naravi pulled at a loose thread on the window cushion, inspecting it. "I'm not beholden to her. You can tell her I said that."
"I'm not going to. Think, Naravi," said Rallis, feeling the last strings of his patience slipping away. "These are the Jevites who will decide our fates. A good impression could be the difference between release and execution. They want to meet you and learn about you and you're refusing because you're too proud, and that's going to get us both killed. It's going to get everyone killed."
"No," said Naravi coolly. "They don't want to meet me. They want to fuck me."
Rallis's stomach twisted. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came to his lips. Not that it mattered, for Naravi wasn't finished. Now that he had started to speak, it appeared he had things to say.
"They all want to fuck me," he repeated, leaving the window and stalking toward Rallis. "Everyone in this place wants to fuck me. Including him." He jabbed an accusing finger at Lieutenant Harn, who started and went pale. "They think I'm a filthy Adesi, but I'm beautiful." His voice was venomous. "What will you do, cousin, if one of them says that he'll vote to protect us as long as I spread for him? Will you hand me over? Because that's what's going to happen. And when it does, what will you say? Will you agree?"
"You know I won't," Rallis told him hoarsely.
"Then don't bother making me go to the party. All that will happen is that Jevites will approach me and get angry when I refuse them and it will make things worse. Just tell them I drank more rhhev. But I'm not leaving this room."
"Naravi—"
"Go away."
Rallis's will was weakening. In a mood like this, Naravi's presence at the party might be worse than his absence. He would go out of his way to cause trouble among the guests, uncaring of the consequences. Furthermore, it wasn't as though he was wrong. "Fine. Stay here, then. But…"
He couldn't help it. He looked toward Lieutenant Harn, who was frozen in place, visibly stricken. I would never hurt your cousin. Though he had said that, and Rallis believed him, that was different than…this. Even if he didn't shoot Naravi for treason or beat him to death for rebellion, he could hurt Naravi in other ways.
There was no way to ask the question he needed to ask without further damaging Lieutenant Harn's pride, so Rallis decided to just say it. "Are you sure you want to be here alone?" he asked Naravi.
Naravi blinked and then seemed to understand. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm not concerned," he said. "Nasir wouldn't hurt me."
Nasir. He said it to be provocative, to demonstrate Lieutenant Harn's subjugation. Nur's heart, Rallis hoped Naravi knew what he was doing. Even the most patient man could only endure so much needling before he broke.
"Then stay here," he said. Naravi didn't deign to respond.
Out in the hallway, he and Lieutenant Taarq continued toward the party without speaking. The atmosphere felt sickly and oppressive, like a fog weighing them down. It was hard for Rallis to breathe right.
"Was that wise?" Lieutenant Taarq asked, carefully, after a few moments.
"Probably not."
> A pause. "He has to be introduced at some point. People are already asking questions."
"If you want to drag him out by his hair, go ahead."
Lieutenant Taarq pressed his lips together. For the first time that Rallis could recall, the silence between them felt antagonistic. Apologies rose in his throat, but he forced them down, mulishly determined to stand by his choice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to criticize you," said Lieutenant Taarq, breaking first. No—that was unfair. He was apologizing because he was reasonable and kind and able to see the greater good. They weren't each other's enemies, and if it took an apology to fix things between them, Lieutenant Taarq would provide it. He wasn't one to get caught up in stupid pride. "I know this is difficult. It's just…the longer he stays hidden, the more rumors grow around him, and the harder they are to control."
"I'm not his mother." Rallis tugged at the collar of his jacket, half-wishing he had been brave enough to follow Naravi's lead and tear it up. "I'm not his Head. Before last year, we were only cousins. I spent more time with Miana than him. He doesn't…he doesn't listen to me. That's never been our relationship. He asks for advice and I provide it, but he doesn't like me giving him orders."
"But you do, don't you?"
A headache pounded behind Rallis's temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right now, I'm acting as interim Hand for Miana. She needs someone to do the Hand's duties and Naravi isn't of age. But it's not…it's not real. When he turns nineteen, he'll be Hand, and I'll be back where I was before. He knows it. He has to listen to me right now because my will is Miana's, but he resents it because it's not a permanent thing. And he's not used to it. It was never supposed to happen like this." House Yy was a sparse line, the main family blessed with only one daughter and two sons, but two should have been enough to keep Rallis from this position. It was hard to explain House dynamics to someone who hadn't grown up in one, anyway. Even if Rallis could find the words, Lieutenant Taarq wouldn't understand.
When he glanced over, Lieutenant Taarq's attention was on something far away. "I see," was all he said, and then they were at the ballroom where the party was being held and there was no more time for talk.
Because Rallis was, at heart, a coward, he waited for Lieutenant Taarq to enter first and skulked in after him. Inside, perhaps fifty Jevites were gathered, a mixture of legion officers and Suul and well-dressed civilians whom Rallis didn't recognize. There were no Adesi besides him and fewer women than he expected. To one side, a band was playing Jevite music. He didn't recognize the song but guessed from the up-tempo pace that it was a military anthem of some kind. Suul Thrun's choice, most likely.
The room itself was small but luxurious. Polished parquet flooring stretched out to meet white stone walls hung with ornate Jevite lamps that glowed softly yellow. Large windows gazed out over darkened gardens, the stars in the sky above them so clear and bright it hurt his eyes to look at them too long. To one side, a long table was laden with sparkling glasses of wine and trays with small cuts of meat and bites of pastry. Banners with Jev's national insignia hung from the ceiling and intricate Jevite-style sculptures of previous monarchs rested in every corner. This is Jev, the room seemed to shout. This is who you dare to stand against.
Attention went to them as soon as they entered. It was like all those meetings with Lieutenant Taarq's friends, only worse, far worse, because most of these people were Rallis's enemies. Throat dry and head aching worse than ever, he trailed Lieutenant Taarq toward the center of the room, where the Empress was holding court among some of the partygoers.
"Ah," she said, smiling up at them as they reached her. "Lieutenant Taarq. Citizen Yy. Welcome. How are you enjoying my party?"
Lieutenant Taarq bowed deeply. "It's lovely, your Excellency, though we've only just arrived."
"Yes, thank you, your Excellency." Rallis bowed as well, trying to remember whether there was anything special he needed to do before the empress. "It's—it's beautiful."
"Where is your cousin?"
"I'm afraid he's ill, your Excellency," Rallis told her.
"Hasn't he been ill since he arrived? He seems quite sickly," said one of the nearby Suul, making the other guests laugh.
Seeing Rallis struggling, Lieutenant Taarq leapt to his rescue once again. "The food and atmosphere disagree with him," he said, smiling lightly. "I had the same problem when I first arrived in Adesa. It takes time to adapt. I'm sure he'll be better before long."
"I certainly hope so."
There was no response Rallis could make to that—no good response, anyway—but thankfully their audience was already losing interest in them. A few last, pithy words to the empress, and he was free to make his escape toward a more sparsely populated corner.
The journey across the ballroom turned out to be its own challenge: though supposedly no one except the Empress and her council and the Suulsen knew Rallis had been named leader of the rebellion, rumors had clearly spread. The crowd around him parted like water before the prow of a ship. Nearby Jevites whispered furiously to one another, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. More than one legion officer looked poised to attack when Rallis drew too close. He reached the far side of the ballroom cold and trembling, his head swimming with fear and anger.
"Are you well?"
He swung sharply at the sound of the voice, but it was only Lieutenant Taarq. He must have followed Rallis. His question was in Adesi, and Rallis answered in Adesi as well, trying to find solace in his mothertongue. "No. I—they know. They know who I'm supposed to be."
Lieutenant Taarq frowned. "I was afraid that would happen. Don't panic. It was somewhat expected."
"Expected?"
"Suul Thrun isn't the type to keep that information to himself. But no one will say anything for fear of disobeying the Empress. They won't confront you."
Rallis made himself breathe, feeling the sickly fear seep slowly from his body. "Right."
"I'll be here," Lieutenant Taarq said, all sincerity. Ah, Nur, it made Rallis's heart hurt to look at him too long.
"I can't just rely on you," Rallis told him, trying for levity. "I need to…what was it? Woo the guests?"
He got a crooked smile, faintly shadowed. "Something like that."
"Then watch me woo them." Rallis lifted his chin, shaping his face into an expression of confidence he didn't feel in the slightest. It was nothing more than a memory of how Miana looked before a meeting with another Head. "I'll make them all love me."
"I'm sure you'll do so spectacularly," said Lieutenant Taarq. He almost sounded as though he believed it.
*~*~*
Watch me woo them, Rallis had said, and by Nur, he did it. It was as unnatural as if he had put on someone else's skin. He gritted his teeth and bowed and smiled, pretending as though he had never enjoyed himself more, and charmed the people who held his fate in their hands.
Lieutenant Taarq brought him to Suul Oymis, who introduced him in turn to other Suul, ones he hadn't already met, ambivalent Suul whose opinions would decide his life or death. They showed him to their friends, the legion officers and the well-dressed civilians, merchants and traders, scholars, artists, some who seemed fascinated by him and others who seemed repulsed. Even the ones that disliked Rallis insisted on meeting him, though many of them refused to touch him, despite the gloves.
He bowed and ignored the contempt. He spoke Jevite as eloquently as he knew how, keeping his tone light and friendly. Whenever the subject of Naravi arose, he deflected. Each interaction felt like sandstone against his soul, but he kept his chin up and endured. What alternative was there?
He danced too, which was both more and less uncomfortable. At least during dances there was little talking, but it felt strangely disloyal to Adesa to dance with Jevites, in a way nothing else had. And dancing, unlike speaking, wasn't something Orun had ever taught him, so he didn't know the steps. He stumbled and tripped over own feet getting used to the brisk pace. Some of the Jevites, watching him, snickered; ot
hers looked pitying. Rallis endured that as well.
There was no avoiding the sense that he was an animal on display, but after a while it became passable, as the novelty of his presence wore off and the guests began to lose focus. By the twentieth hour, Rallis felt…not comfortable, not quite, but calm. No longer convinced that he was going to be shot for looking at someone wrong, it grew easier to find small moments of pleasure to carry him through the night. The food was good and the wine—at least what little Rallis tried of it—was sweet and flowed freely. The Jevites that weren't scared of him seemed friendly enough. The cool evening air was refreshing against his face.
Well into the night, he finished a dance with a boisterous young Jevite woman who spun him around like a top and staggered off the dance floor to a safe spot near the wall, too exhausted to feel tense. Across the room, Lieutenant Taarq was dancing with his own partner, a member of the Suulsen Rallis hadn't yet met. Even from a distance, he could see the friendly way they talked, and the way the Suul's hand slid down Lieutenant Taarq's back.
Irritation burned low and cold in Rallis's stomach. He imagined storming across the room, pulling Lieutenant Taarq away from his partner and—
What? Dancing with him? Sweeping him off his feet? The very thought was ridiculous. Besides, if Rallis started charging anywhere, he would get shot before he made it ten steps.
Lost in his own sullen thoughts, the tap at his shoulder made him start. He turned to find himself face-to-face with another man, tall and handsome. The stranger had the badge of the Suul but was younger and kinder-looking than most of the Suul Rallis had previously met, with hooded eyes and a smile that pulled slowly at the corners of his mouth, as though he were just waking from a pleasant dream. When their gazes met, the man bowed.
"Kes Dayne," he said. "May I have this dance?"
Near the edge of the ballroom, Lieutenant Taarq had released his partner and was watching the scene intently. His face was smooth and hard. Conscious of the attention on them, Rallis accepted the proffered hand and let Suul Dayne pull him onto the dance floor, sweeping him back into the whirling dancers without a stumble.