My brother's ears turn crimson. "She was inquiring about trade agreements."
"Is that what they're calling it now?" Kaan examines his wine with theatrical interest. "Trade agreements. How delightfully euphemistic. What were you trading, exactly? Fluids? Genetic material?"
"She asked about swords," Zoran says through gritted teeth.
"I'm sure she did." Banu's grin is absolutely feral. "Big, thick, well-maintained swords that require regular polishing and?—"
"Finish that sentence and I'm throwing you out a window," Zoran threatens.
"Emir would catch me." She doesn't even look at the general, but I notice his shadows drift subtly closer to her. "Besides, I'm just saying—Lady Thessaly seems very interested in your... technique."
"My sword technique," Zoran clarifies desperately. "We sparred in the training yard. It was completely professional."
"Professional sparring," Kaan repeats slowly, like he's tasting the words. "Is that the same kind of 'professional' relationship Emir claims to have with our resident fairy?"
Emir chokes on his wine.
"Because if so," Kaan continues mercilessly, "I give it three weeks before you're sparring horizontally. With significantly less clothing. And far more moaning."
"I hate all of you," Zoran announces.
"That's not denial," Banu points out gleefully. "Notice how he didn't deny the moaning part?"
"There's no moaning!"
"Yet," Kaan, Banu, and I say in perfect unison.
Zoran looks around the table with the expression of a man surrounded by enemies. "You're all terrible people. This is why the Light Court thinks we're uncivilized."
"We are uncivilized," Kaan agrees cheerfully. "But we're also right about Lady Thessaly. Twenty gold says they're fucking within the month."
"Thirty says two weeks," Banu counters.
"I'm not betting on my brother's sex life," I say primly. Then, after a pause: "But if I were, I'd say ten days. He has that desperate look."
"I'm leaving," Zoran announces, standing abruptly.
"To visit Lady Thessaly?" Banu calls after him innocently.
"TO CHECK THE PERIMETER."
"Is that what we're calling her now?" Kaan shouts as Zoran storms away. "The Perimeter? Bit formal, but I suppose it works!"
The door slams with enough force to rattle the wine bottles.
"Ten days," I repeat confidently. "Mark my words."
"Five says he goes directly to the eastern markets right now," Banu adds, wings fluttering with barely contained glee. "To 'check supply routes.'"
"That's not a bet, that's a certainty," Emir observes dryly, though there's amusement in his eyes.
We wait in comfortable silence, listening to Zoran's rapidly retreating footsteps echo down the corridor. Then, fainter—the sound of the outer doors opening and closing.
"And there he goes," Kaan announces with satisfaction. "Straight to his 'perimeter patrol.'"
"Should we send guards to make sure he actually checks the defenses?" I ask innocently. "You know, for security purposes?"
"Absolutely not," Kaan replies. "Let the man have his dignity. What little remains after that performance."
