Hobbies? I gave up music long ago. It seemed a pointless pursuit with death just around the corner. Oh yes, let me show Prince Balior my journal of numbers, this obsession with tracking my demise. That would surely be a mistake. “I have no hobbies.”
“What about… horseback riding?” he adds with telltale mischief.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Spit it out, Roshar.”
“I heard you and the prince had a little rendezvous this morning—with Notus as your chaperone.”
“Who told you that?”
“Don’t you worry about where I gather my information from. How was it?”
A gossamer breeze blows in through the open window. I sigh and rub my eyes. The unease I felt earlier hasn’t diminished, but seeing as Roshar is a horrible gossip, I am reluctant to add fuel to the fire by informing him of Prince Balior’s improper behavior. Better to skip that part. “Notus may have… attacked the prince.”
Roshar gapes. His mouth hangs open for one heartbeat, two, then snaps shut. “Do you think he’s jealous?”
“Of Prince Balior?”
“Think about it,” he insists, leaning forward. “You’re to marry this prince from another realm, but if I recall, at one point you were hoping Notus might ask for your hand in marriage.”
A small sting hits nearest to my heart. He’s not wrong. I’d never wanted to marry… until Notus. Then, I’d wished to bind my life to the South Wind in all ways. But Notus is immortal. It did not seem fair to promise him forever when I would live to only twenty-five years of age. To this day, he does not know my secret.
As for the jealousy… It may be petty, but I want to draw the green-eyed rise from the South Wind. Proof that I am not so forgettable ashe made me believe. But all I have received in return are reminders of his duty to Father. “As he continually states, he’s just doing his job at keeping me safe. And anyway, he’s the one who left.”
Roshar winces. He was there when I learned the South Wind had departed without so much as a farewell. He gathered my broken pieces and patched the cracks to the best of his abilities. If not for Roshar, I fear I might never have clawed my way free of the dark. It is something I will never be able to repay him for.
“You’re right,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Why are we talking about Notus when you’ve a delectable man wanting to marry you? Tell me more about this prince of yours.”
Later that evening, I arrive at Prince Balior’s chambers. Ten soldiers guard his door. It is more than Father posts at his own quarters, though I suppose when one finds oneself in an enemy nation, one cannot be too careful.
Before I’m able to knock, the door opens. Prince Balior is dressed in a knee-length robe, brown trousers, and bare feet.
“Princess Sarai.” He dips his chin in greeting. Surprisingly, no flattery sweetens his tongue. I cannot blame him, after what he endured in the desert.
“Prince Balior.” Brushing past him, I take a seat in the sitting room, and the prince selects a chair adjacent to mine. Two of King Halim’s men join the sentries outside. Technically, as an unmarried woman, I am not allowed in his rooms unaccompanied, but my guards know better than to speak against me.
A small tea set graces a round table placed between the two chairs. The prince pours the scalding liquid into a hammered copper cup. “Sugar?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He passes me the cup before stirring sugar into his own drink. The spoon clinks against the metal rim.
A deep sigh leaves the prince as he settles back, tea in hand, to regard me with eyes darkened by remorse. “I wish to apologize for my behavior earlier today. It was unacceptable, and I am ashamed to have made you feel uncomfortable. I promise it will not happen again.”
I sip from my drink. The mint leaves have been steeped to a sharp bitterness. “I appreciate the apology.” Do I believe he is regretful? Perhaps. “The heat can make any sane person mad.”
“Some more than others.” The tonal shift implies he speaks not of himself, but of the South Wind.
Slowly, I lower my cup onto the table. This dread has loomed in the thick of my mind for most of the day. It must be addressed.
“I am utterly humiliated by what happened at Kir Bashab,” I say. “Should you wish, I will go to Father about the matter and discuss what actions can be taken. You were right. What kind of example are we setting by allowing this display of violence to stand?” There must be consequences, even for the South Wind.
Unexpectedly, the prince does not appear pleased by my words. Hours earlier, he was forceful, aggressive, adamant. Now he is relaxed, ponderous, at ease.
“After some thought, I realized I may have gotten carried away before,” he replies. “I can’t blame the South Wind for protecting a woman he believes to be in peril.”
My eyebrows wing upward in surprise. “That is an abrupt change of opinion.” Though I find myself experiencing a sliver of relief that he does not wish to punish his adversary.
“Yes, well… Notus sought me out earlier and apologized. We came to an understanding.” He sips, slowly. The motion commands my full attention. “Moving forward, I do not anticipate there being any bad blood between us.”
