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“My lord, are you all right?” Evemer asked.
“Fine, why?”
“You keep fidgeting and sighing. Is the bed uncomfortable?”
“No,” Kadou said. “I mean, yes, but it’s fine. Goodnight.”
No more thinking about this. He wanted Evemer, and that was something he’d just have to deal with quietly, secretly, and alone. If he kept it to himself, then that would solve all his problems—Tadek wouldn’t be hurt and his friendship would be preserved; Evemer wouldn’t be made uncomfortable, and his presence at Kadou’s side would be preserved too. That was the crucial point, Kadou decided: Maintaining steady, stable equilibrium. Moving softly through the world and his relationships without capsizing all the boats.
At least this, of all things, was a problem he could touch. He’d wished for one, hadn’t he? Usmim, hearing him, had provided. It was a trial, then, a test of Kadou’s mettle. That was all. He could solve this, as long as he kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone about it.
The commander was feverish the next morning, and His Highness was in a very strange mood. Understandable, Evemer supposed—he was worried about Eozena. They all were. Melek changed her dressings, smearing the wound liberally with the cleansing poultice the doctor had left and wrapping it again tightly with fresh bandages while Kadou hovered and watched and paced.
Tadek’s injured leg was workable, but he was still half hopping through the room when he needed something, and he couldn’t sit on the floor or get up from it without a wall to lean on or someone helping him.
“She’ll be fine,” Kadou said firmly to the room at large, staring at Eozena lying in a sweaty heap by the fire on a cushion of folded blankets.
“Of course she will,” Zeliha said, pacing around the room. “She’ll befine,” Kadou said again, louder, and Durdona got out some candles from a drawer and a pair of miniature figures of Sannesi and Usmim. She put them on the mantelpiece, and gave the candles to Kadou to light. He stuck them in front of the figures with a few drips of wax, and then sank into several moments of silent prayer. Evemer stood behind him and added his own prayers to Kadou’s. “She’ll be fine. She will.”
He’d said it so many times that it was a prayer in itself by now.
Zeliha paced the length of the room again like a caged tiger with its tail lashing and its teeth bared. “No one is in charge at the palace now,” she said. “And some people think that Kadou and I are dead.” She turned sharply to Evemer. “Did you get anything useful from that escapade last night? Give me some good news.”
“Majesty,” he said. “We did get something, but you won’t think it good.”
“Spit it out.” She was splendid in her anger. Her eyes flashed, the rich Mahisti blue-black that was just the same as Kadou’s. “I’ll take anything at this point.”
“Siranos was there,” he said simply. “Pinar can confirm it.”
Her Majesty went still. “You’re sure?” she said quietly.
“As the stars, Majesty.”
She turned away, one hand to her forehead. “Fuck.”
No one spoke for a long minute, though they all watched Zeliha from the corners of their eyes, waiting for her to react, to show them in which directiontheyshould act. She only stood there in the middle of the room, her hand to her face, her shoulders set and her breath steady.
Evemer looked away from her—if this was her moment to be a person rather than a sultan, she was entitled to it, and she deserved whatever grain of privacy he could offer her.
“I’m going back up to the palace,” she said, her voice low and calm. “That’s the only choice we have.”
Kadou looked like he was about to object, but Zeliha only met his eyes, neither of them speaking except, perhaps, for that silent communication that Evemer had heard siblings sometimes had.
Really, what other choice was there? Without Eozena to keep things calm, who else could Zeliha trust to walk into the chaos and bring it to heel?
“Right,” Zeliha said. “Right, here’s the plan. I go back up to the palace. I make sure that Mahisti stays in power. This is an excellent opportunity for someone to assume the throne is vacant and snatch it for themselves, and I cannot allow that to happen. The first priority is the security of the dynasty and the nation. To that end also, my daughter will stay here, guarded by the current complement of kahyalar and under the care of Madam Hoskadem. Durdona, I’m sure you can find a wet nurse in the neighborhood? No need to tell her who Eyne is, make something up.”
Kadou’s face had gone pale. “Zeliha.”
“If anything happens to me,” Zeliha continued doggedly, “my wishes are that Eyne will be sultan, and that Kadou will rule as her regent until she comes of age. I bind all of you as witnesses. The rest can be found in my will. There are copies with the masters of the Merchant’s Guild and Shipbuilder’s Guild, and the heads of the ministry of intelligence and the Royal Mint.”
“Zeliha,” Kadou said desperately.
She spun on her heel to face Kadou at last. “Prince Kadou, I owe you an apology. I should have trusted you. Three times over, I should have trusted you. If there is anything you can do to find and catch Siranos and his sister with only yourself and your three kahyalar—”
“Two kahyalar and an armsman,” Tadek muttered from the corner.
“Three kahyalar,” Zeliha said firmly, not taking her eyes from Kadou, “ then I charge you to do it.” She pulled the royal seal on its chain from around her neck and set it on the table in front of him. “Whatever you need to do,” she said. “Get him for me, bring him to me.”
