Kiem stopped.
He saw the slightest of movements in the corner of his eye; Jainan had gripped the edge of the table, as if he was having difficulty standing up. Even as Kiem started to turn, though, Jainan straightened, looking unsteady and ill. Rakal was watching Kiem closely. “That’s nonsense,” Kiem said blankly. It was more than nonsense. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this year, and considering my last audience with the Emperor, that’s a high bar. What do you think he did to Taam, murdered him?” Jainan shook his head urgently beside him.
There was another, even more horrible silence.
“Are you asking to be involved in the case, Prince Kiem?” Rakal said.
“I am involved in it,” Kiem said. “He’s my partner! Tell me what you’re investigating!”
Rakal seemed to weigh their words before they spoke. Their voice came out cool, as if Kiem were a hostile media outlet. “Prince Taam’s death was suspicious,” they said. “We are investigating a number of options. There have been attempts to break into Operation Kingfisher’s systems even after Prince Taam passed away. Operation Kingfisher, which, I shouldn’t need to remind you, is not popular on Thea.”
“That’s your evidence?” Kiem said incredulously.
“Of course not,” Rakal said impatiently. “That is context. I am not going to litigate the case evidence with anyone but the Emperor.”
“I didn’t,” Jainan said, swallowing audibly. “I know there is very little use in me saying that, but I did nothing. Your people told me I wasn’t needed for questioning.”
“He’s a diplomat,” Kiem said. “He has no motive, you have no proof, and he’s a goodwill ambassador. You’re treating him like he came in on a raider ship! He’s just lost his partner, and now you’re going to drag him through an investigation? What do you think that’s going to do to our relationship with Thea?”
“This is why I think we would all prefer to do this informally,” Rakal said. “Either you and Count Jainan can give us access to your accounts voluntarily, or I will apply for a sealed Imperial Justice Order. Either way, this can be done without causing further tensions with the Resolution.”
“I’ll take it to the Emperor,” Kiem said, but he felt the negotiation slipping away.
“Do,” Rakal said, and Kiem heard in the word the truth they both knew: Kiem didn’t have an ounce of influence with the Emperor. Internal Security was in the Emperor’s pocket.
Could he pull rank any further? He felt something like despair at the thought of it. It would be obvious he had no idea what he was doing. Rakal would just laugh, and they’d be right to.
And then, all of a sudden, Kiem realized he was going about it the wrong way. He met Rakal’s eyes. “You’ve got to admit,” he said, “our whole track record with Jainan looks bad. Jainan gives up his family and his life on Thea to come over here, and then we revoke his security clearance and isolate him. We treat him as an enemy. Cut him off from his family. People will sympathize, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t say,” Rakal said expressionlessly. “But I would say that most people in the palace understand security threats.”
Kiem leaned in. “I have a couple of friends who might see it a different way,” he said. “Journalists. You know journalists—always obsessed with the human angle. Like I said, it could get out. Could look very bad.”
Beside him, he heard Jainan’s soft intake of air. Kiem didn’t look around; he couldn’t afford to look away from Rakal.
“You would not,” Rakal said.
“Oh, I’m not suggesting anyone blows the whole thing open,” Kiem said. “Your half-baked investigation would really screw things up if it got out. But mistreatment of the Thean representative? Forbidding him to talk to his relatives? That’s something we could give the press.”
“You would not invite a scandal across half the royal family,” Rakal said. They looked like they had bitten something sour. “The Emperor would—”
“Exile me to a monastery again?” Kiem said. “Already went, three years ago. I’m a world-class meditator. I don’t mind being in the newslogs.”
They stared at each other.
“Denying us access to evidence will not stop Internal Security’s investigation,” Rakal said eventually.
“I don’t want to stop it,” Kiem said. “I want you to find out what happened; all I’m asking is that you don’t take our lives apart. And you can reinstate Jainan’s security clearance while you’re at it,” he added. Jainan was looking at him with something like disbelief. “I want you to tell me he can call anyone he likes, please.”
Rakal stared at him further, now not bothering to hide the flat dislike. “I will remove the flag.”
“If you harass him, expect a bunch of newslog articles to show up on Hren Halesar’s desk with your name all over them,” Kiem said. “Let me put this diplomatically: you have done an absolutely shit job of being balanced and proportionate in how you treat Thea’s formal representative in the palace, and I don’t trust you.”
“So you have made clear,” Rakal said. “Were there any other points you wished to raise?”
“No,” Kiem said. “Thanks for reinstating his clearance, though. I really am grateful. Jainan, anything you want to add?”
He looked at Jainan properly. He didn’t know what reaction he’d hoped for, but Jainan barely ever reacted in public, and his poker face was intact. “No, thank you.”
Kiem offered his arm—which Jainan took—gave Rakal a courtly nod, and said, “Thank you for your time.” He steered them out.
The righteous anger was fading, all the more so as Jainan’s grip stiffened on his arm. Kiem managed to confine himself to “You okay to head back?”
“Yes,” Jainan said.
Kiem recognized that tone: it was the one where yes only covered ten percent of what Jainan might have said. Kiem didn’t know what to do about that. When they were in a completely empty corridor, Jainan looked over his shoulder and to either side, and said, “May I ask you something?”
Kiem wasn’t sure he had any answers. “Go ahead.”
“I will, of course, back you up in anything,” Jainan said. There was a meticulous air to his words, as if he were laying them out very carefully on a tray. “I am at your disposal. But—I do not mean to cast any aspersions on your judgment—if there is any way to avoid a public scandal in the newslogs before the treaty renewal, I would…” He stopped, and for the first time Kiem realized the strain it was taking him to keep his voice even. “I would rather do anything else,” he finished, losing the edges of his calm. “Anything. Please.”
Kiem’s foot caught on a low stone step and he stumbled. “Jainan, that was a bluff,” he said in dismay. “I thought you knew. What did you think I’d do, just throw you to the press? You’re my partner!”
Jainan looked relieved, which made Kiem frantically try and think of what else he’d done wrong to provoke that reaction. But of course, he thought of Jainan: grave and dignified, his every public action totally correct, holding duty around him like a shield—of course public scandal would be his worst nightmare. “We’ll keep everything private,” Kiem said. “I can promise that.”