The King's Blood

own strength or you’ll leave. But I’d rather you stood.”
    “We understand each other,” she said.
    “Good. Once we’ve done with my acquaintance on the Division, we’re both for the tailors. We’ll need better clothes than we’ve packed. Our very good friend Canl Daskellin is holding a private meal at his estate tomorrow. Several people will be there who would be very interesting to speak with.”
    “You’ll tell me what to listen for before we go?”
    “Of course.”
    “And after the meal?”
    “After the meal, we will go to the Kingspire. Lord Marshal Kalliam is having his revel, and the regent and the prince will both be there. And then, Magistra, we’ll see what’s worth seeing.”

Geder
     
    G
    eder rose to his ritual humiliation. His servants powdered him, dressed him, and prepared him for the grand and glorious world. He told himself, as he did every morning, that the servants barely noticed what he looked like naked. And even if they did, he was the Lord Regent, and their opinions of him ought not matter. But always in the back of his mind, he imagined them giggling when he was safely away. And his personal guard. Those men followed him almost everywhere, but never spoke to him. Never asked anything of him or laughed at his jokes. That wasn’t the same as having no opinion of him. It was beneath the dignity of the regent to ask them, of course, but how could he keep from wondering?
    The revel itself began at dawn, well before Dawson, Geder, or Aster officially arrived. The pavilion set aside for it had been draped in pale silk, and jugglers and showfighters and tables of sweets had been brought in for the children’s revel at dawn. There would be games and competitions through the morning, with prizes given to the winners wrapped in cloth the colors of House Kalliam and engraved with Dawson Kalliam’s name. Geder planned to join in at midday when the first meal came. Dawson would be there, and Lady Kalliam. And with luck Jorey and his new wife, Sabiha.
    He walked through the wide halls of the Kingspire, scattering the servants and slaves by the simple fact of his presence, and he wondered what it was like for Jorey. He couldn’t really imagine him wed, even though he’d been there at the joining. To wake up every morning not to a crowd of near-strangers, but to a woman. One particular woman. To be naked before someone whom etiquette didn’t require to look away. The thought alone was enough to make his chest ache, just a bit.
    And now, how would he ever know if a woman wanted him, or just the position he’d fallen into? He’d read enough about sex to understand it. There had even been diagrams in some of the books. That wasn’t the problem. It was the fear a thousand times worse than his unease with the morning’s servants that she—that unformed, universal she —would be putting up with him because he was Lord Regent. That she would pretend love or lust as carefully as the others pretended indifference. He couldn’t stand the idea.
    He could order the death of kings and the destruction of kingdoms, and what he mostly felt was lonesome. Lonesome and envious that his friend had something that he couldn’t. The only one who could really understand was Aster, and Geder couldn’t talk about that kind of thing to a child. A boy he was supposed to protect and raise up to the crown. No. Impossible.
    “My Lord Geder,” Basrahip said. His rockslide of a voice echoed a little.
    “Morning,” Geder said. “I was just… I was just doing nothing very useful or important. Is everything all right?”
    “My fellows and I have heard things that trouble me, Prince Geder.”
    “Lord Regent.”
    “Lord Regent. I am worried that there may be some unrest. Those who love deceit too much and fear the justice of the goddess feel her presence, and they do not repent.” Basrahip leaned closer, and his voice fell to a whisper. “You must be aware. The world looks bright and blameless, but there is danger in it.”
    A cold dread tightened his shoulders. He hunched in toward the priest.
    “What should we do?” Geder asked. Basrahip smiled.
    “Come with me,” he said. “And let us bring your guardsmen.”
    The room was an old ballroom, not used in living memory. The light was bad, and the floor was worn to splinters and blocks. Tiers of benches rose steeply up on three sides like a theater, the last bench so high it almost touched the vaulted roof. Standing along that top row were the