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Abruptly, she remembered the way Dervish had eyed Bennick when he’d touched her shoulder. She sobered and drew back, though Bennick’s hand around her waist didn’t let her retreat fully. “Dervish looked . . .” She couldn’t find the right words.
“He’s made speculations,” Bennick said. “Most of them silent. He doesn’t know how to mask his thoughts—every single one plays over his face.”
“But he might tell Grandeur. Andhemight tell Newlan.”
Bennick nodded once. Hand still wrapped around her side, his thumb skated against her abdomen. The Mortisian fabric of her dress was thin, so she felt every bit of his heat. “Grandeur will no doubt be at dinner, so you’ll eat in the suite tonight. We’ll talk to Desfan about traveling to Dorma as soon as he’s available to meet with us.”
She hoped arrangements could be made quickly, because she wanted to travel with the Hassans tomorrow.
She couldn’t stand to be in the same place as Grandeur for longer than that.
Chapter 29
Desfan
Desfanstrodedownthecorridor, Karim at his side. The sun would be setting soon, but preparing for dinner was the last thing on his mind.
They reached Yahri’s apartment and Karim knocked on the door.
The councilwoman answered promptly. She leaned on her cane, the wrinkles by her eyes deepening as she frowned at Desfan. “I suppose you want to discuss our newest issue.”
“Can you lecture me about the orphanage speech later?” Desfan asked. “I have some questions—”
“I’m not talking about your speech,” Yahri interrupted. “I’m talking about the fact that Prince Grandeur is here.”
That froze him. “He is?”
“Yes. And he’ll be at dinner, so we really need to discuss your strategy for dealing with him and his alleged activities in Mortise, without creating any political problems with Devendra.”
Fates, this complicated things. Yahri was the only one on the council who knew everything Grandeur had been doing in Mortise, but he wasn’t sure how the other council members would feel about having the Devendran prince here.
Regardless, that problem could wait. The questions he’d come to ask Yahri could not. “I need to speak with you,” he said.
“It’s almost time for dinner.”
“This won’t take long.”
Yahri sighed, but waved them in.
Desfan and Karim took seats on the long settee in her sitting room, while she dropped into a cushioned chair that was so clearly her favorite, it carried a permanent indentation of her.
“Now then,” she said, planting her cane in front of her, both hands draped over the top. “What urgent questions take precedence over Prince Grandeur’s unannounced arrival and you changing into a proper outfit for dinner?”
Desfan might have once taken offense, but he was quite used to Yahri’s manner by now. “I want to know about Vakesh Kazzo.”
A furrow grew between Yahri’s silver brows. “Who?”
“Vakesh Kazzo,” he repeated. “He used to be a scribe for my father. He’s currently living in the asylum in the city.”
The lines on her face deepened. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who . . .” Her words drifted. Then her eyes widened. She straightened in her chair. “Vakesh Kazzo—I’d nearly forgotten about him.”
“We met today,” Desfan told her.
Yahri glanced at Karim, but she didn’t say anything. Considering how warmly she and Avao had interacted at the coronation, Desfan gathered they were close enough that Yahri knew about Karim’s mother.
Yahri swallowed and focused back on Desfan. “I’m sorry, sometimes my mind isn’t as sharp as I’d like. But I haven’t heard that name in easily ten years. Likely more. It took me a moment to recall him.”
“He thought I was my father,” Desfan said. “I asked for his records at the asylum, but there wasn’t much information about him. He has no family, so the palace pays for his care at the asylum.”
