“No. It comes with a certain weight.”
She understood. “Pressure from above, from within, from all sides.”
“Precisely. Though it was worse when my father was still with us.”
“Is that so? I didn’t realize being the prince was more work than being the king.” Recognizing the weariness in his tone, she hoped injecting a bit of humor might coax a smile from the dutiful man. Her eyes floated down the table to Nekash.
Ehmet chuckled. “I’m a kinder overlord than Dad ever was. I like to think I make things easier on Nekash than it was before. Fewer bruises to sport at social events. Less...fear, all around. My mother’s happier nowtoo.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. I did not realize—” Perhaps she shouldn’t have jested. Being king couldn’t be easy, but it was easier than living under the thumb of an angry man.
Hevva considered herself lucky to have avoided such wretches throughout her life. Her friend, Lorin, was now the overseer in Kabuvirib, but she first moved to the town as a young bride of the former overseer who turned out to have a penchant for barrels of ale and punching women in the face. Unfortunately, he’d gone out hunting with some of the other local men and never returned. Fortunately, Lorin was well-placed to assume the role her husband vacated.
As far as Hevva knew, the dead king hadn’t been out hunting whenhepassed, but she wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if he made a habit of hurting his wife and children. She always knew there was something unsavory about that man.
“It is nothing, my lady. Bad memories.”
“Our experiences shape us.” No one was allowed to approach Lorin from behind. She was a moderately strong windshifter who, when surprised, would wrap a thick cord around your neck and squeeze before she’d even had time to spin around and learn who made the grave error of greeting her.
“That they do. My hope is I’ve become quite the opposite of who he was. It’s what I strive for, anyway.”
“I’d say you have significantly more empathy than King Hethtar the Third. At least from what I’ve seen.”
“Thank you. I make it a point to be better in every facet of my life.”
“No wonder you’re so weary.”
He clinked glasses with her. “Exactly. Take last night for example...”
She eyed him inquisitively, expecting some reference to the ball.
“Sometimes you have to meet your people where they’re at and carry them to where they need to be.”
Her foot shot out and connected with his shin.
His eyes twinkled. “Howareyou feeling today?”
“Better now . . . ish.”
He chuckled.
That flask was burning a hole in her pocket.
Soon the second course was cleared and dessert laid out upon the table. In a beautiful show of air magic prowess, an array of staff entered the room, and with practiced synchronization, they flew the desserts from the sideboards to dot the long table. The performance was met with a smattering of applause.
“How are youfeelingtoday?” He asked as he helped himself to some fruits and cheese.
“You’ve already asked me that.”
“Different emphasis.” He shrugged minutely. Then, because no one was paying all that much attention as they filled their own plates, Ehmet selected a few choice strawberries and served them to Hevva. He followed up with some cubes of sharp cheese. The king drizzled both his plate and hers with a liberal helping of Selwassan honey.
“Thank you? And I will not be answering that question.” Hevva selected a strawberry and popped the whole thing into her mouth. Then, because she was sticky, and someone halfway down the table spilt their wine, pulling everyone’s attention away, she licked the tips of her honeyed fingers.
Beside her, Ehmet groaned.
“What?” She winked, nudging the king with her foot beneath the table.
He pushed his tongue over his teeth and returned the hidden gesture. “Well.”
