“Fine.”
“Not until you’remucholder. Promise?”
“I promise.”
Hevva was proud of her brother, the way hecommitted himself to his education, and was always seeking to learn more, to understand better. She didn’t feel quite the same passion, and when she did, books weren’t her chosen medium.
After their early dinner, Hevva delivered a packet of wrapped crumpets to Aylin, who—as expected—wound up enjoying them despite protestations that she was “fine.” Then, they dressed and made their way to the public building for the plenary address.
Hevva, in her blue and silver gown, and Kas, with a fervent spark in his eyes, ventured into the heart of the symposium.
two
Ehmet gives a speech.
Ehmet adjusted the intricategolden robe draped over his shoulders. The weight of the crown, both literally and figuratively, seemed heavier today as he prepared to deliver the plenary address to open the annual Symposium of Prodigious Minds. Nervous energy pulsed from limb to limb and back again. To calm his apprehensions, he poured himself a glass of whiskey—a small one—as he contemplated the night ahead.
As he was wont to do, the pad of his thumb made its way to the knuckle of his pointer finger where he rubbed the textured skin. Tonight’s speech should be one of the easier events to get through. As king, he had every right to open the symposium, then dash away into some hidden corner of the public hall. He could even head back home to Hewran Hall or Kirce Palace for all anyone cared.
As long as I’ve done my duty.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, duty came in many shades. It wasn’t the speech that had Ehmet worked up, it was a promise he’d made to his mother to begin looking for a suitable wife. With a groan, he sipped his drink, grateful that the dowager queen was presently halfway across the kingdom.
Though happy for the respite, echoes of her words seemed to follow him wherever he went these days: “Ehmet, you’re nearing thirty. Time to find yourself a wife. I won’t be around forever, you know.”
He’d thought quite a lot about the ideal qualities of a good match, someone who would make a decent queen. Ehmet figured he’d look for someone quiet and biddable, ideally pretty, and if the fates threaded their tapestry in his favor, maybe they’d even be friends. He was uninterested in seeking a love match. Silly things, those were.
As he downed the rest of his drink, the door to the private salon creaked open.
“Room’s filling up. Pour me one.” Nekash sauntered in with the rising din of crowds and conversations before a guard in the hall drew the door closed behind him.
His brother, the lecher, came along to present a united front following the death of their father the winter before. Ehmet rolled his eyes at the thought of Nekash wanting anything to do with running a country. As it was, the prince was also the Duke of Serkath, a role he had next to no interest in. The prince figured, since Ehmet lived there, too, and was the king and all, he could handle the Capital’s management alongside his other duties. Nekash told his brother this...many times.
Ehmet assumed Nekash was in it for the money, and probably the women too. The fact that his dukedom came with a splendid little manor opposite the palace was an added bonus for the seedy prince. He had the oddest brother. Good thing the man wasn’t interested in trying to be king, unlike Yusuf. The title? The power? Sure, Nekash would enjoy that. But the mundane day-to-day tasks that ensured the common people were provided for, that ensured morale remained high across their broad continent?
He nearly scoffed.
Instead, Ehmet sighed, a rare flash of vulnerability blinking out from beneath his composed exterior. He poured a healthy drink for his brother and a limited one for himself before joining the prince in the sitting area. Standing there, he took a contemplative sip and fiddled with his obnoxious golden robe. Nekash lounged on a settee, legs tossed carelessly over the arm and gulped his drink.
“Nervous, brother?”
Ehmet paced behind a set of chairs. “Not in the least.I quite like public speaking.”
“Scores of stunners out there tonight.” Nekash chuckled licentiously. “Wish I was you. All those ladies turning up for a chance to meet the king.”
No more.Ehmet finished his whiskey in a swift sip. His mother had been pestering him to take a wife. He couldn’t take it from his brother too, though Nekash certainly didn’t have marriage on his mind when he’d made the comments. The man kept a bevy of ladies in waiting—as in, ladies who were waiting to be made his wife, which wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t fret, I’ll happily lap up your leftovers.”
A groan escaped him. His younger brother was...fine. But oddly, he wished for the steadying presence of his mother at that moment. Of course, he could neverevertell her he had the thought, or she wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. He had asked the dowager queen to remain at the palace in Serkath to conduct business in his absence. She was a bit overbearing, sure, but far more level-headed than his father ever was. He trusted her implicitly to hold down the kingdom.
“Who else is out there tonight?” Ehmet asked, hoping that his brother would take his meaning.
He did, kind of. “Uncle Yusuf’s still in Kirce.”
“I know that. What of his friends?” The Duke of Kashoorcih, their great-uncle, Lord Yusuf Hethtar, was literally the bane of Ehmet’s existence.
“Baron Turkhane’s around, and Baron Kashuvol.”
