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Evemer’s posture stiffened until he was almost at attention, looking straight ahead out the window. “Armsman Hasira administered aid to you which seemed to be . . . helpful.”
“Oh. Yes,” Kadou said slowly, suddenly not at all sure where this was going. He hid his face in the teacup, just in case.
Evemer nodded. “Understood, my lord.”
Whatwas understood? Kadou looked up over the edge of the teacup, but Evemer’s expression was impossible to read. Carefully, he said, “Why do you ask?”
“I wished to refine my knowledge, to better serve you.” A pause. In a different voice, one that did not sound like he was giving a report to a superior officer, Evemer said, “The commander was also helpful, just now. When she . . . touched your face.”
“Yes. Sort of. It didn’t help theproblem,but . . .”
“But it helped you feel better about it.”
“Well. Yes. A little.”
Evemer nodded again. “More than the tea is helping.”
Kadou looked at the tea and the blanket again. “I said I liked these.”
“My lord.”
“Spell it out,” Kadou said, a reminder as gentle as he could make it.
Evemer shifted his balance, met Kadou’s eyes briefly. “Your Highness finds the most benefit in . . . touch.”
A firework of epiphany lit in Kadou’s brain. “So you’re trying to figure out what I want or what you should do?”
“It is my duty to know Your Highness’s preferences in all things.”
Oh, what an excellent kahya he was—hewastrying, wasn’t he? Andconsciouslyso, deliberately looking for ways to improve his service and Kadou’s comfort.
As much as it softened his heart to see Evemer trying so hard to make these adjustments and adaptations, ones that clearly didn’t come naturally, Kadou felt his heart fall a little, too. He couldn’t help but find himself wanting, in comparison to Evemer. No matter how much conscious thought and effort he put into the execution of his duty, the best he could hope for was . . . sufficiency. A man could be good, but a prince? A prince could only begood enough. He could, if he tried his utmost, meet expectations. But they were far, far too high for anyone to be able to exceed them.
Wasn’t that the whole nature of monarchy? The whole reason his tutors had taught him the way they had?Get through this without doing harmhad been the explicit lesson. Hold the status quo. Maintain balance. Do not grow ambitious, for ambition too can be a source of harm and suffering, if it leads to failure.
Evemer was permitted to strive to be better. Kadou was not allowed striving at all—and what else was there for him to strivefor,in his position? He was the prince of the most financially powerful nation in the world. There was nothing higher than him but the throne itself, and the mere thought of that was enough to turn his stomach.
He sipped his tea. He closed his eyes, feeling the steam on his face, the scent in his nose. Looked for ways to be a good-enough prince for Evemer. “You may always ask me, if you are unsure,” he murmured. “Whether it is asking for my opinion of your service, or offering something that you think might help me. I will never punish you for not knowing what I want, or for offering something that I decline. There is no error in that which you would have to be held accountable for.”
“Understood, my lord.” Evemer was quiet again, but he still stood there, towering over Kadou on the divan.
He must have something else to say,Kadou thought.
When Evemer spoke again, he sounded absolutely neutral—it was only the time it had taken for him to speak that suggested that it was at all effortful for him. “My lord, would you be at all invigorated by visiting the bathhouse?”
Kadou opened his eyes and thought about this. The idea of sitting in the steam-thick air, of sinking into warm water and feeling weightless for a time . . . Yes, that did sound good. He nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Evemer, I would.”
The bathhouse of the royal residence was as lavish as the one that served the rest of the Gold Court—and still fully half the size, despite the fact that the only people allowed to use it were the sultan and her immediate family. Evemer didn’t know which of these two bathhouses Kadou generally used; the first few days that Evemer had been appointed to him, Kadou had washed with a large basin in his room as if he were on war campaign, and after that, Melek had been attending him, and he bathed in the mornings. Today, since they could not yet leave the royal residence, the matter of preference was moot.
While His Highness finished his tea, Evemer had gotten one of the other kahyalar to run ahead of them and tend the furnaces, ensuring that the water was heated and steam rooms in the baths were fully functional—this was a task delegated most often to a team of cadets, but even they had been temporarily banished from the Gold Court until their loyalties could be verified.
Evemer had never been to the royal baths, though he had heard of them from other kahyalar and had been provided with a floor plan, delivered along with his beautiful new cobalt-blue dress uniform and a number of other items the day after his promotion to the core-guard. The floor plan helpfully pointed out all possible areas of potential danger and what kind of vigilance each room required, from heat exhaustion in the steam room to slipping on the tiles in the washing room to drowning in the therma to “be watchful for intruders; there are many spaces where assailants might conceal themselves” in . . . nearly every room.
After the events of the night before, even remembering that particular warning had set him a little on edge. He had hesitated over the thought of making the suggestion, but Kadou had been so obviously disheartened after the discussion with Commander Eozena, and more than anything, Evemer didnotwant to give his lord the opportunity to work himself into another attack of nerves.
Preventative measures, then.
The frontmost chamber of the baths was a room of low couches and thick, velvety carpets strewn with tasseled silk cushions in vibrant colors. It was much the same as Evemer had found in the nicer public bathhouses down in the city, with the only difference being the splendid quality of the furniture and upholstery. One might invite friends to meet at a bathhouse like this to recline and talk over refreshments—cool sharbat, sliced fruit, sticky pastries—or take in the delicate scent of carefully blended incense, the bright hangings on the walls and the mosaics, the large windows of stained glass that blazed with color when the sunshine hit them and cast dapples of jewellike light below.
