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“Why haven’t you been wearing your blues?” Kadou asked, impulsive. He’d been wondering it for days—the time had never seemed right to bring it up, but perhaps therewasn’ta right time or a wrong one for such things.
“I think green suits my complexion better,” Tadek said.
Kadou gave him a sidelong look. Tadek met it, guilelessly. “Why aren’t you wearing your blues, Tadek? You were reinstated. Did they not give you your uniform back?”
“Oh, they did. And then I gave it back to them.”
“Why?”
“Well, I was having some feelings about it, and you know how much I hate those, so I . . . went to talk to Commander Eozena.”
“Talk?”
“Fine, yes, I went to flirt with Commander Eozena. I thought it might cheer her up. She’s so grouchy that she can’t justwillherself back to health. Anyway, I hung around until she started yelling and whacking me with a stick, and—”
“Does that sort of thing happen to you a lot?”
“Oh, constantly. Whacked with sticks, drowned under water pumps, lovely things helping themselves to a perch on my knee. People are always taking the most shocking liberties with me.” He gave Kadou a cheeky wink. “As I was saying, she was shouting, and I thought . . .She wouldn’t be shouting at me if I were in my kahya blues. She’d just order me out of the room.Mind you, she wasn’tactuallyangry with me—she was having a good time. I was just being a twit because I thought it might entertain her. And then I was thinking that if I were a kahya again, I’d eventually be reassigned away from you, given to someone else, and I might not want to be friends with the new person. Or I might be promoted, maybe sent off to the provincial governors. Ilikethe capital. And,” he said, his voice getting a little more quiet and serious, “you’ve got a whole garrison of kahyalar. You’ve only got one armsman.” Tadek grimaced. “Let’s not make it about feelings. Not my thing, feelings. I’ll leave those to you and Evemer. I’m staying your armsman because I look better in green.”
Kadou bit back a smile. “You’re welcome to wear my green as long as you like. Hearth and home.”
“Yeah,” Tadek muttered, pleased. “Hearth and home.” They stopped just outside Zeliha’s residence and Kadou looked up at it—the beautiful architecture, the carved wooden shutters thrown open, the balcony above overlooking all the garden. “Nervous?”
“I’m fine. Just—composing myself.” He shut his eyes and breathed.Peace,he whispered to his mind.Peace.
She’ll know the truth as soon as you tell her you don’t want that Vintish duke. Or she’ll hate you for it. What about your duty?
I’ve already fouled up my duty,he thought back.It’s too late for that, I can’t take it back. That was the whole point.
Then she’ll be angry that you’re rejecting her gift,the fear-creature murmured.
Maybe,he whispered back.But I have to do it.
It’s a MISTAKE!
His eyes snapped open. There—there it was, an outright lie that he could reject entirely. He shoved that thought away from himself with a surge of vicious resentment. If this was a mistake, then it meantEvemerwas a mistake, and there was simply no way that was possible. How would he deserve something of his very own if he weren’t willing to fight for it? How would he earn it if he never faced his greatest fears?
In a way, then, he was a little glad Evemer wasn’t with him—the temptation to lean on him would have been too much. This was something he had to do all alone.
Usmim sent trials to measure a person’s mettle. This was the trial. This was the moment to find out whether he could best it. How small and trivial it was—telling his sister something that would disappoint her, ruining something she’d worked on, rejecting a gift because it was irreconcilable with what he wanted. Taking the first small step to insist on having something for his own, something that had nothing to do with princes or kingdoms or the rest of the wide world at all, just him.
Just his heart.
And yet, a few months ago he suspected he wouldn’t have been able to do it at all.
He went up to Zeliha’s private rooms. Asad, at the door, smiled and let him in.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,his fear-creature said.
Zeliha was cuddled up with Eyne in the same pile of cushions that Kadou had left her on, just as she had said she would be. She was drowsing only lightly, and she woke when the door shut. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, yawning. “You all right? You rushed out of here so quickly.”
He kicked off his shoes beside the door, went over to her, dragged a cushion out of the pile, and sat. “I won’t be marrying the Duc de Resti.”
“What? What, really? You don’t even want to meet him?” She pushed herself up, astonished. Her hair, as black as his own but even longer, fell in light disarray around her shoulders, tousled from sleep.
“Really. I’m sure he’s nice, but nothing is going to come of it.”
“You don’t think him handsome?” There was the disappointment —and just a hint of annoyance, he thought. And why not? She’d worked so hard to find someone who was perfect.
