Most of them were from people he barely knew. The people who cared about the Thean alliance were a world away from his life up until now: nobles outside the palace called, as did foreign parliament officials and high-ranking bureaucrats. The Thean president called. The secretary of Imperial Affairs called. Kiem took the calls in the formal vidchair in the study, where sensors would project a freestanding image of him, and prickled with discomfort when each new person’s projection appeared in front of him. The Advisory Council called from one of their meetings, his cousin Prince Vaile sitting demurely among them, and took turns congratulating him with depressing sincerity. Vaile just gave him a wry smile. Kiem tried deviating from his press statement, but midway through the call with the Eisafan consul he realized that I’m very happy wasn’t appropriate either, since Jainan almost certainly wasn’t.
By the twelfth call, he was desperate enough that he declined the next person, jabbed the dispenser into life and coaxed it into disgorging a comfort-food sandwich that wasn’t on its menu. He got Bel a coffee and shoved it her way as she came into the room with a light-screen floating beside her. “I’m out,” he said. “No more calls. I’ve gone collecting for the Friends of Educationally Disadvantaged Puppies.”
“You didn’t really need to be on that last one anyway,” Bel said, shutting off her screen and taking the coffee. “Count Jainan is due in ten minutes. What is in that sandwich?”
“Chocolate,” Kiem said, just as Bel’s wristband beeped. He groaned. “Tell me that’s not another one,” he said, but Bel was already raising a finger to activate her earpiece.
She slipped back into the other room and held a short conversation. When she leaned out again, Kiem had gestured another sandwich out of the dispenser and was feeling mutinous. “I’m supposed to be getting ready to meet Jainan, I can’t spend the whole day—”
“Count Jainan’s sister,” Bel said. “Lady Ressid. Are you going to take it?”
Kiem swallowed, the food suddenly feeling like a solid lump in his throat. This was the first contact from anyone who actually knew Jainan. “Put it on the vid.” He sat on the edge of the vidchair, back straight, and tried to look like someone who was thoroughly in charge of all the political sensitivities of a rushed marriage. It would help if he had any idea how that sort of person looked.
A projection flickered into life: a Thean noble in rich cream silks and pearls, standing, her long hair swept up in an elaborate, feather-like confection anchored with a wooden comb. Kiem blinked and adjusted his perceptions just in time. Gender on Iskat was easy: anyone wearing flint ornaments was a woman, wooden ornaments signified a man, and glass—or nothing—meant nonbinary. It was a straightforward system that even Galactics used. But Bel had said sister, so Ressid must be female despite the comb. Jainan might have humored Iskat customs in his photo, but apparently that didn’t mean the rest of Thea adhered to them.
“Lady Ressid,” Kiem said, with a seated bow.
Lady Ressid’s eyes were almost the image of Jainan’s in the photo, but there was something harder in them. “Prince Kiem,” she said stiffly, and curtsied.
“An honor to hear from you,” Kiem said. He kept a wary eye on the projected caption to the side of Ressid’s image where Bel was pointedly displaying proud to continue the alliance in memory of my revered cousin. But Ressid didn’t immediately congratulate him. There was a split-second pause, and Kiem suddenly realized that the crease at the corner of her mouth was a sign of strain.
“I am calling to formally request access to my brother,” she said. The words came out clipped and hard, like a hail of small stones. “If Your Highness is pleased to grant it.”
That was a weird way of announcing a visit. “Well, of course,” Kiem said. “Glad to have you to stay. When?” The call was coming from Thea: the flight took a few days each way. “I thought we usually got these requests through your Foreign Affairs Bureau—wait, we’re going to be in Thean space next month for Unification Day. I think it’s on your orbital station. Aren’t you going to be there?”
“I didn’t mean that,” Ressid said. “I meant access to call Jainan.” The line of strain hadn’t moved.
Kiem stared at her, nonplussed. He was completely at sea with Thean formalities. “That’s got nothing to do with me.” Wait, it must be a ceremonial thing. Only ingrained training in royal manners stopped him from casting an agonized look at Bel off-screen, but she was apparently just as confused, because the screen caption flickered and changed to??? instead of a script. “Um, forgive me. Is there some kind of formal response?”
The line at the corner of Ressid’s mouth creased, deepened, and then disappeared as she forcibly smoothed out her expression. “It is a practical matter.”
“Oh. Then—wait, is this about him moving living quarters?” The realization was a relief, because now he had some clue about what was going on. “That won’t be a problem. He’s only moving within the palace, his ID should work fine. The palace systems will route his calls here.” Jainan should know that; Kiem had no idea why Ressid was asking him. But maybe Jainan hadn’t paid much attention to the palace systems. “And he’d have his wristband anyway.”
Ressid drew a short, sharp breath, and Kiem couldn’t figure out why. He looked hopefully at the caption, but Bel didn’t have any helpful background information for him. “Your Highness,” Ressid said. “I would like an undertaking that I will receive a call from Jainan within the next two weeks.”
Alarm bells started ringing in Kiem’s head. So Jainan wasn’t in contact with her. Apparently he was bringing his own family problems to the marriage. Kiem could imagine how he would take it if he turned up and Kiem had already sided with his sister in their family feud—that would be a great start to a life partnership. “I can’t give you that.”
Ressid recoiled, only fractionally, but Kiem could sense her anger even through the projection. There was a silence. Kiem, probably because he was what Bel called an inveterate people pleaser, tried to fill it. “I’ll tell him you called, though,” he said. No—shit—that would just be pressuring Jainan if he really had cut off contact. Jainan must have a reason for not wanting to hear from his sister. “Uh, if he asks.”
For a moment he thought Ressid was going to shout at him. He sat up straight and set his shoulders; he didn’t like shouting, but the quickest way out was usually to let people get it off their chests. But even the slight movement seemed to give Ressid pause. She gave him a look that was barely short of a glare, then wiped all expression from her face and said, “Allow me to offer you my congratulations, Your Highness.”
“Thank—” Kiem said automatically, but before he’d even finished, Ressid’s projection disappeared. She’d cut the call.
He got up uneasily from the vidchair. “What was that about?” he said. There was something there that he’d accidentally put his foot in. He’d have to see if Jainan raised it. Kiem wasn’t the poster boy for great family relations, however hard he tried, but he’d never been involved in an actual family feud.