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She had decided that she ought to have the same thing he did. But she regretted it when the bowl of porridge was brought to her. A small plate with dried fruit and sugar was brought out as well, but Riyaz ignored it. Picking up a triangle of toast and dipping it into the bland meal.
She wrinkled her nose and began to put dates on top of hers.
“You said you came from a similar background to mine. Tell me,” he said.
“Part of being in society is to learn to observe the agreements that we all make without ever speaking of them,” she said. “One such agreement is that we do not ask terribly personal questions of people we do not know. Particularly not in environments like this. If we were at a dinner of state, you could not ask someone about their trauma. And they would not ask you about your time spent in the dungeon.”
“Why not? It is the only thing I’ve done for the last sixteen years. Therefore it is the only thing I have to comment on.”
“Right. But... Many other people do not wish to comment upon things that cause them pain.”
“You know what causes me pain? The memories of my parents dying. That is particularly painful. Losing sight of my brother in the throne room, wondering if he had also been cut down, while I was dragged away by ten men. Ten men, that’s how many it took to restrain me, even when I was sixteen. I raged for a time. But eventually you learn... You learn that you cannot rage always, even at the things that are not fair, because you must bide your time. You must wait. That’s what I’ve been doing all these years. I made sure my body did not die. I made sure my mind didn’t... Well. I cannot say that I am the same man that I was who entered that dungeon. But I did not lose myself entirely.”
“I see.”
He tilted his head to the side. There was an amusement in his gaze, and she wondered if he might’ve smiled if he was a different sort of man. “You are curious now. And you want to ask. But you have just chastised me for asking questions, so you won’t.”
“Fine. How exactly did you do those things?”
“Exercise is very good for the mind and the body. Movement. I made sure that I moved. Also... Reading. I have read hundreds of books. Thousands. There was a guard who would bring them to me. You know what I like about people in books? You see their thoughts. It is all plain. Written out before you. When I look at you, I cannot read your thoughts. So I ask you what they are. I should like to read you. As if you were a book. I should like to see the paragraphs between the words you speak. For I think there are many.”
“Maybe,” she said. “A fair few. But that is very interesting. What were your favorite books?”
“It depends. I love reading for information, because I could not go outside and see things for myself. But then... Reading stories of action. Espionage. That was good as well.”
“Romance?”
He had a strange look on his face. “Sometimes I found that difficult.”
Of course. Books about human connection. Human touch. She understood that. She liked the occasional romance novel, but sometimes they were too painful.
Because, according to those books, by all rights, the man who rescued you when you were a child should eventually begin to see you as a woman. Eventually, didn’t the guardian want his ward? Lies books had told her.
It hurt her to read about people connecting in a way that she hadn’t experienced. Being alone like he was... She imagined it was even worse.
“All right. Well, that is good to know. You like to read. That will give you a lot to talk about. Books make fantastic small talk.”
“And the weather,” he said. “Which I can see now. So... That will also give me something to talk about.”
Except he didn’t seem like the kind of man who wanted to talk about the weather, and for a moment, she almost mourned what she was trying to do.
She liked him as he was. He was forthright, and different. Part of the problem with her job was that so much of it involved taking someone different and turning them into something the same.
It was what the people who hired her wanted, or what they needed for a variety of reasons. And Cairo had impressed upon her the importance of the situation. The severity of it all.
She understood.
She was going to do what she was asked.
“We should probably begin to discuss table manners.”
“I know them,” he said, his expression getting dark.
“Rather than trying to remember what happened in the past, I’m happy to begin with a fresh slate here and now. Sometimes... Sometimes when there are memories that are painful, or a time in your life that is painful, it’s difficult to try and think back. I should think that maybe it would be easier for you to simply begin again.”
He looked at her skeptically. “All right.”
She stood, and moved to the side of her chair. “Why don’t you stand. And we’ll try having you sit again.”
