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“You did, Your Highness,” he replied.
“There you have it.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Kadou took another unsteady breath. “I killed them. But they would have killed you. I had to. Didn’t I? I had to?”
Eozena moved to sit by him on the couch and pulled him up-right so she could put an arm around his shoulders. “You did well, Your Highness. You were victorious. You came home in one piece.”
For some reason that just made Kadou start to cry again. The tears left tracks in the smears of blood, and Evemer wiped both away with soft strokes of the cloth, trying to be . . . gentle. It was not a muscle he used often.
Kadou wouldn’t stop shaking. Eozena awkwardly patted his hair, and Evemer wiped all the blood off him, but . . . this was like nothing he’d seen, even when Kadou had been so distraught about clashing with Siranos that he’d sent for his armsman.
When Eozena shot a glance up at him, Evemer thought that she must not have seen the prince like this either—and if it were simply battle fatigue or plain cowardice, she would have presumably known what to do about it.
But Kadou hadn’tbeencowardly. Evemer had told him to run, and he hadn’t.
“Highness,” Eozena said. “Kadou. You’re all right. You’re not hurt. That’s the most important thing—that you’re safe.” He only shook harder, clutching his hands to his chest, gasping for air like he was being strangled. Eozena backed off, trading another nervous glance with Evemer. “Highness . . . What do you wish? What should we do? Are you ill?”
Kadou tipped sideways again and pressed his face into the fabric of the divan. Every muscle of his body was tense, as taut as a drawn bowstring. “Tadek,” he stuttered, over the course of several hitching sips of breath. “Tadek. Now. He knows.”
Evemer wasted no time—his heart was beating as fast in his chest now as it had been in the alley, or faster. He slammed down the hall in the direction of the chamber he now shared with Melek. There was another room next to it, barely larger than a broom closet. He slammed the door open, not bothering to be quiet, and hauled Tadek out of bed.
Tadek squawked awake and struggled in his grip. “What the fuck—what—”
“His Highness requires youimmediately,” Evemer snarled. “He’s ill.”
Tadek, cursing, found his feet and dove out the door without bothering to straighten his clothes or make himself presentable and, with Evemer close at his heels, strode into His Highness’s chamber like he owned it.
He brushed Commander Eozena aside and sat himself down on the divan with not even a trace of hesitation. He hauled Kadou up and against him, tucked Kadou’s head down to rest against his neck, got his arms tight around the prince, and pulled him half into his lap.
“There, lovely, breathe for me,” he said softly. Evemer stood frozen. Eozena had risen to her feet too. “Both of you back away,” Tadek said, sharp and warning. “And stop staring at him. You’re not helping.” Then, returning to his soft tone before: “Breathe, beauty, fill those lungs for me. There, look at you, that’s a little better. You’re doing so well. Another one, eh?”
Eozena, as commanded, turned away, but Evemer could not—Tadek laid soft, dry kisses against Kadou’s forehead and hair, squeezing him around his shoulders and ribs as tight as the bands of a barrel. He kept a continuous low murmur of soft words, calling Kadou lovely and gently coaxing him to breathe, just to breathe.
Tadek must have seen something like this before. He was so calm, Evemer saw, narrowing his eyes. He was the one person in the room who knew what he was doing. Evemer watched him intently.
Kadou’s hands were clenched so tight in Tadek’s nightshirt that his knuckles were white, and his frantic sips of air had deepened to small gulps and sobs. “I can’t—I can’t breathe—” Evemer heard him gasp.
“Youarebreathing, lovely,” Tadek said immediately, before Evemer could twitch even a muscle toward the door to run for the doctor. “You’re breathing, and you’re doing so well. You’re already halfway through it, mm? Just ride out the rest. You’re safe, lovely, you’re well.”
Eozena quietly left the room; Evemer heard the kahya at the door ask some soft question before it shut. He knew he should leave too. This wasn’t for him to see. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t shake his attention from being wholly bent on what was happening on the divan.
It seemed like it took years for Kadou’s breathing to finally ease, the shivers ebbing out of him like the tide, leaving him limp and weak and draped over Tadek. Evemer felt much the same; his muscles ached, and it was only when they released, one by one, that he realized how tightly he had tensed them.
Tadek’s iron grip on Kadou eased too, no longer holding him together like he would have otherwise shaken to pieces. His hands moved softly over Kadou’s hair, his shoulders, his arms.
Why had Tadek been the only person who knew how to help? Evemer felt a pang of something deeply unpleasant—why hadn’t he been told how to help with this . . . affliction? Why hadn’t Kadou wanted anyone to know about this? He’d deliberately concealed it from all his kahyalar, but his armsman knew—why? Why? Why?
Kadou shifted, sniffled, and pushed himself up, separating from Tadek. Tadek didn’t stop him, only let his hands fall away from Kadou’s hair with a few strands pulling through his fingers.
Kadou looked like he’d just begun to recover from anillness,and Evemer felt another unpleasant sensation burn through him. Kadou blotted his face dry with the clean inside of his kaftan.
“Do you require anything?” Tadek said, still half lounging.
Kadou shook his head hard. “No. Sorry. I—I shouldn’t have had them wake you.”
“Yes, you should have,” Tadek said. “I’m glad that you did.” He looked at Evemer expectantly, as if Evemer was going say something, but by the time he realized he was supposed to chime in and agree, the moment had passed and Tadek had turned his attention back to Kadou. “I’m going to get you something to drink and then I’m putting you to bed.”
