Jainan watched the screen in front of him die. He felt exhausted; maybe that was relief. He sent a copy to Internal Security, but discovered the file wouldn’t delete without a passphrase. Never mind. He couldn’t read it anyway, and the investigation was inactive.
He shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. He had a new partner, a new duty that required all his attention. He couldn’t be distracted by stray thoughts of Taam. He and Taam had spent five years together—five years that ended suddenly, brutally, like the punch of a demolition claw through a wall—and that was it. That marriage was over.
A white indicator light glowed on the wall. Jainan turned and opened the door in the split second before the chime had a chance to sound.
A smartly dressed staffer stood outside. Jainan consciously ran through the Iskat social cues: her wristband was emblazoned with a crest, thus she must work for the palace, and her earrings were obviously flint, so at least she could be clearly read as female. Iskaners thought their gender presentation was very simple—wooden decorations for men, flint for women—but it was sometimes impossible to spot a bead or stone if it was displayed discreetly, and some people wore neither. The staffer wasn’t wearing a uniform tunic. She must be someone’s aide.
“Count Jainan?” The aide bowed. “My name is Bel Siara, Private Secretary to Prince Kiem. His highness has sent me to assist you.”
Jainan automatically bowed back. She looked vaguely familiar—Jainan must have seen her around the palace at some point, but he was bad at remembering people and worse at making connections. This transition might have been easier if he’d known people outside Taam’s immediate circle, but just moving out of Taam’s rooms was like moving into a city full of strangers.
“Honored to make your acquaintance,” he said. The formal phrase came out easily, polished by use, but then he had to think of what to say next. He had to stop his breathing from speeding up. Bel Siara was in a position to do him a lot of damage if she decided she didn’t like him. “I’ve packed. I’m ready to go.” He turned before she could reply and keyed the chest closed.
The lid slid shut, and the chest unmoored itself, bobbing toward the door as he touched the handle.
“Allow me,” Bel said and moved in to take a pull cord instead. Jainan backed off and let her.
Prince Kiem lived in an entirely different part of the palace. Taam had been given rooms in the Emperor’s Wing, the high-security heart of the palace, though of course he was several floors away from the Emperor. Prince Kiem seemed to have missed out on those; the Courtyard Residence was a long, echoing building of white stone that housed lesser relatives and high officials. Like all the grand buildings of the palace, they were linked with a snakelike maze of glass-covered walkways. Iskaners had a compulsion for glass roofs and windows that showed the sky, which had always baffled Jainan, as for most of the year there was nothing there except a blanket of clouds. Iskaners called it a fine autumn day if it stopped snowing for an afternoon.
Jainan used the walk to go over his half-formed apologies for the ceremony. He never got the chance to use them: when they arrived, Prince Kiem’s rooms were empty.
The suite was a smaller version of Taam’s, built according to the same model. Jainan had been there before, on his brief, panicked visit before the ceremony, but he still stopped in the doorway, disoriented again by how much difference the furnishings made to the atmosphere. Bright lighting picked out the edges of the mismatched coffee service and a cheap, cheerful rug, chosen by someone with more enthusiasm than talent for interior design. The main room was tidier than it had been earlier. Iskaners liked their surroundings to be largely a pristine white, he knew, but Jainan felt there had been more color then, just because more things had been strewn around.
Bel waved him in ahead of her. “He’s gone out. Make yourself comfortable. I can get you a drink, unless you’d like to direct the unpacking?”
“I can unpack myself,” Jainan said. She must be busy with her own duties.
Bel gave him a swift, calculating look, as if trying to sum him up and not making much headway. “Of course,” she said after a moment. “Let me show you the rooms.”
The bedroom was spotless as well. A sudden rattle against the window made Jainan turn his head, and he caught the shadow of a raptorial bird as it bounced off in a flurry of pinions and claws. Jainan had learned to be wary of Iskat’s birds. Even the ones Iskaners called sparrows would attack a human; anything much larger had to be exterminated.
“Oh yes, keep the window shut or the doves will get in,” Bel said. “And don’t feed them, that’s what started the problem in the first place. Here.” She opened an entirely separate wardrobe. Two columns of drawers also stood open.
“I don’t need this much space,” Jainan said.
“We can clear more, if—excuse me?”
Jainan silently keyed open the lid of the hoverchest. It was only half filled.
Bel looked at the contents. “I see,” she said. Jainan tried not to read any disapproval into it. “But we’ve cleared it now, so you might as well claim it. His highness will just fill it with his rubbish if you don’t.”
Jainan felt his entire back knot up. “I don’t—I don’t need it,” he said. “I don’t want to argue with his highness.”
Bel gave him an odd look. Jainan couldn’t meet her eyes and instead focused on pulling his belongings out of the chest.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Bel said at last. “I’ll be in the study. Prince Kiem says don’t hesitate to ask for anything.”
“Thank you,” Jainan said.
“To be clear, that means ask me for anything,” Bel said. “Kiem doesn’t know how to work the requisition system and will just call up twenty people until someone gives him something to make him stop.”
“Thank you,” Jainan said again. He had the excuse of turning to the wardrobe, so he didn’t have to hide his expression as she left.
If Prince Kiem had said that, Jainan could guess why. Guilt about the rushed marriage and Jainan’s bereavement. That explained some of the things Kiem had said at the ceremony as well. Guilt about Jainan, which led to Kiem extending favors. And if Jainan took advantage of that, it would poison the well that much sooner. Jainan was familiar with how guilt turned into resentment. The only thing to do was to try and make Kiem happy, and Jainan was uniquely incapable of that.
His clothes fit into half the space in the wardrobe. The box from Thea went into the back of a drawer. He emptied the chest slowly, and when it was empty, he shut it down until it was a thin flat block floating at chest height. He pulled it out of the air and faltered. Jainan would have taken it to Taam’s aide normally, but he didn’t want to disturb Bel.
He felt a sudden, crushing desire to be back in familiar territory. At least he’d known the rules there. His head gave another stab of pain.
Bel put her head around the door. “Message from Prince Kiem,” she said. “He’s apparently made dinner arrangements. Would you go to the Room of Birds in twenty minutes? It’s in the Southern Tower by the Emperor’s Wing. I can show you the way.”