It was Ambassador Suleri, resplendent in his formal clan robes and a gold chain. An aide pulled the rack further aside. Kiem spun around, looking guilty. “Um—Your Excellency—no, no problem, we were just, um.”
But the Ambassador wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking at Jainan. And though Kiem had nothing to feel guilty for, Jainan had a litany of dropped clan obligations and snubs he tried not to let show on his face. “Good afternoon, Ambassador. I apologize for my tardiness to the reception.”
“Prince Kiem told us you were unwell,” the Ambassador said. His voice was neutral, but the look he directed at Kiem had something else in it. “We were not expecting you to come at all.”
Jainan took a sharp breath, trapped between Kiem’s cover story and his own ill-considered actions. “I was unwell,” he said. “I felt … better, unexpectedly.”
“How convenient,” the Ambassador said. “I’m glad.”
Jainan wasn’t looking at Kiem, but his skin crawled at how Kiem must be reacting. He reached at random for something that would get them out of this. “Are there refreshments?”
The Ambassador’s gaze didn’t break from his. “Indeed,” he said. “In the main room. I will be honored to present you both. This way, Prince Kiem.”
“Right!” Kiem said. “Right. Honor to be here.”
Jainan was going to have to face other Theans at some point, whatever he did. He arranged his face into blankness and caught up with Kiem. “After you.”
CHAPTER 10
Jainan’s stomach churned as they passed through the square archway and into the large reception room. Two fountains provided a faint mist to break up the dryness of the Iskat winter. The walls held a complete array of clan flags, all of which were as familiar to Jainan as basic velocity equations, and the room was full of expat Theans. Most of them wore Thean fashions with a clan emblem; many had gone as far as full formals. Jainan’s blue-gray ceremonials were technically too subdued for the occasion. He was out of place.
A few of the small groups near the door broke up to stare at them as the Ambassador personally announced their titles.
“Offer your arm,” Jainan murmured to Kiem. They were expected to be a couple. Kiem started, then obligingly held it out. Jainan took it, leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He was steeled against the inappropriate change in his heartbeat at being so close—a physical reaction, it couldn’t be helped—but he wasn’t expecting to actually feel the tremor as Kiem recoiled from him. Kiem was too well-mannered to step away, though, and Jainan pulled back quickly enough that nobody noticed the reaction.
“That boy over there is glaring at us,” Kiem said under his breath.
“Girl,” Jainan said. “That’s … a clan member of mine. Gairad.” He shouldn’t have come. His head was hurting enough that pleading illness wouldn’t even have been a lie. “We might have to avoid her.”
He expected to have to come up with an explanation. But all Kiem said was, “Right, can do,” and steered them into a conversation with a mix of Theans and Iskaners on the other side of the room.
It didn’t go well. Every third Thean they met had some query for Jainan on where he’d been, and how he’d been doing, and why he hadn’t been in contact. At Jainan’s silences, Kiem deflected most of the questions, but ten minutes of that apparently put Kiem on edge enough that he started to stress that Jainan was in mourning. It was going badly. Jainan knew it was his fault, and desperately started to plan how he might excuse himself and unshackle Kiem so he had a better time. He could plead a headache and find a quiet corner to check the crash data again.
He went off to fetch them drinks, leaving Kiem to talk to an intense young staffer about the Resolution. When he returned, he realized with some horror that the man had veered off into a historical description of exactly what the Thean public had thought of each of Iskat’s Ministers for Thea. Kiem was wearing one of his listening expressions.
Jainan acknowledged the staffer and subtly cut him out of the conversation. “I like him,” Kiem said as Jainan steered them away. “Vivid grasp of metaphor.”
“Mm,” Jainan said, and handed him his drink before they joined the next set of people.
Even Kiem’s energy couldn’t last forever. Sometime in the second hour he murmured to Jainan, between conversations, “They’re really not fond of me, are they?”
Jainan felt cold. “It’s not you,” he said. They had stopped in a niche away from the hubbub of conversation. Above them, a sandstone statue reached out its arms and poured water into a square stone trough beside Jainan’s hand.
“Well, you know them better than me,” Kiem said dubiously. “But I’m getting the feeling it really is.”
Before Jainan could reply, Lady Fadith interrupted them. “Your Highness,” she said, “Could the Ambassador have a quick word? With Count Jainan as well?”
Kiem met Jainan’s eyes. Jainan said, “I’ll go.”
“The Ambassador requests Prince Kiem’s presence too,” Fadith said firmly. “It will only take a moment of your time.”
There was no way to politely refuse, although the back of Jainan’s neck was prickling. He almost wished it was about his conversation with the Kaani representative, but of course the embassy would barely see that as significant. This would be about Thean social obligations. He didn’t want to drag Kiem into it. But Kiem just said, “Of course, I’ve been wanting to speak to him anyway,” and followed Fadith into the private part of the embassy, to a large, well-appointed office that was obviously the new Ambassador’s.
It needed to be large. There were several people there already, not even counting the tall, skeletal presence of the Ambassador behind his desk. Jainan was finding it harder to breathe. He recognized all of them: a scattering of important senior diplomats and three or four people wearing his own clan colors. Gairad was in the corner. If he was going to be hauled over the coals for defaulting on his social duties, it seemed unfair to do it in public like this.
There were barely enough chairs. They had made up the numbers by dragging in a rickety plastic one obviously from a canteen. Fadith ushered Jainan to the free space at the end of the couch, and before Jainan could intervene, the Ambassador had nodded Kiem to the spare plastic chair.
Jainan recoiled from the thought of how Taam would have reacted, but Kiem sat without batting an eyelid.
“Nice to see you all here,” Kiem said. “I’m afraid I don’t have many names—Your Excellency, of course … Lady Fadith … and that must be Gairad in the corner.” He looked around hopefully, as if for more introductions. Gairad had looked up at the mention of her name, focusing a suspicious look on Kiem. Kiem gave her one of his disarming smiles.
It didn’t do much for the tension in the room. Lady Fadith, still standing, didn’t offer introductions. She rested her hand on the desk beside her and said, “I’m sorry to have to bring you up here, but you know the issue we’re going to raise.”
“Uh,” Kiem said. “Not a clue, actually.”