The folios stacked across his wide desk nearly covered the leather blotter, all of it reports and memos from various aspects of the government and military. Rodian found it overwhelming, even if he would never admit to that fact and grimly tackled the seemingly never-ending task for hours each day. Ruling a town seemed so easy when compared to ruling a country, and Rodian missed the simplicity of his former life.
Rodian sighed, picking up another folio to read the latest report—from the fisheries along the coasts—but was interrupted before he could get too deep into the numbers by a knock on his door.
“Enter,” Rodian called out. He expected it to be Lidiya or Sakka but was pleasantly surprised to see Arkadi stepping into his office, wearing a long-vest and sash so dark a purple it looked almost black. The gold design in the brocade was stitched like a constellation, catching the eye. It was an outfit meant to be seen in, and Rodian wondered where Arkadi had been, who he had been entertaining, a curl of heated jealousy warming his gut. He tried to snuff it out, knowing he didn’t hold a monopoly on Arkadi’s time, even if he wished he did.
Weeks since meeting the younger man, and Rodian felt like a boy with his first crush, vying for Arkadi’s attention when he needn’t have worried about such a thing as Isar. It had been a long time since he’d wanted someone the way he wanted Arkadi—with a feralness that made him want to grab Arkadi and toss him onto the nearest bed or chaise and have his way with the other man.
He could have that, Rodian knew. But commanding love meant it wasn’t love at all, and Rodian couldn’t live with a lie in his bed. So he settled for the friendship deepening between them, glad for it in the lonely moments of his rule.
It needed to be enough, even though it wasn’t.
“You’re early. I thought you were coming by for supper?” Rodian asked, happy to set aside the reports. He and Arkadi had a standing meeting every day around Rodian’s intense schedule. They typically met over a meal, usually the evening one, and spent hours talking. Rodian had come to rely on Arkadi more than the Council of Ministers would probably like if they knew. But Arkadi had a skill at talking him through tangled knots of ivoryanin politics that inevitably found their way into everyday life.
“Yes, well, Lidiya said you weren’t busy,” Arkadi said as he shut the door behind him and locked it.
Rodian raised an eyebrow at that gesture. Arkadi had never locked a door behind him before. “I’m in the middle of reviewing reports.”
Arkadi smiled at him, a teasing glint in his eyes as he crossed the office to take a seat before Rodian’s desk. “I know for a fact you slog your way through those reports because you have to, not because you want to.”
“It’s my job.”
“And the country is thankful you are so dedicated to it.” The smile faded from Arkadi’s face, a grimness replacing it that Rodian didn’t like. “I met a friend at a teahouse today. I overheard something of concern while there.”
Rodian told himself not to be jealous of that friend who could so easily enjoy Arkadi’s time outside of politics. Though, to be fair, the conversations he and Arkadi had on a daily basis quite often strayed into talk of their own lives. “How so?”
Arkadi leaned forward a bit in his seat, meeting Rodian’s eyes. His glacial gaze burned with an anger that immediately put Rodian on edge. “I overheard a private conversation. One that spoke of treason and threatened your life.”
Rodian went still, mind whirling at the implications of what Arkadi reported. “Are you certain?”
“Of course I am certain. The perpetrators mean to do you harm over the amendment you added to the tithing order from the wardens.”
“Ah.” Rodian leaned back in his chair, reaching up to stroke his beard. It was a nervous tell that Arkadi was trying to get him to stop performing. Since his only audience was the younger man, Rodian let himself indulge in the comforting gesture. “I assume the ones you overheard were ivoryanin.”
“Yes. They take offense to you offering up their children along with everyone else’s.”
“Considering the war we were in was because of their votes, I feel they can pay the price the rest of the country must pay.” Rodian practically bit the words out, not bothering to keep the disgust out of his voice. “Even my own family is not exempt.”
It had only been fair, and he knew a distant cousin in a different town would forever hate him because she would have to give up her youngest child to the wardens. But Rodian knew that having only the lower social classes pay the tithes would breed a resentment toward the ivoryanin they might not survive, not after how the Infernal War ended. Revolution had fractured Ashion once before into two countries, and again made it whole with the Infernal War. Urova wouldn’t be so lucky, he knew, if revolution found them.
“They won’t care. They mean to take your life in revenge.”
“How?” Rodian asked incredulously. The palace was a veritable fortress, guarded againstrionetkasand other threats, more so now than it had been during the Infernal War.
“I don’t profess to know how they’ll attempt to kill you,” Arkadi replied tartly. “I only mean to ensure theydon’t.”
He spoke with such fierceness it gave Rodian pause, staring at the determination in the younger man’s eyes. Arkadi radiated fury, and Rodian wished, not for the first time, that he could draw the younger man close and kiss him. But the distance between them felt like the space between a fjord—vast and deep and filled with all the reasons he shouldn’t take Arkadi to bed.
“Do you know who the traitors are?”
Arkadi nodded, leaning back and folding his hands together in his lap. He might have given his outercoat to the servants, but he’d forgotten to also hand over the dark gray gloves he wore. The softness of the leather was stitched so accurately he wore them as if they were a second skin.
“Ivoryan Sigurd is one of the traitors. Ivoryan Kaja is one of his co-conspirators. Her voice was familiar, and she huddles with Sigurd during votes. I am not certain of the other two.”
“If I invited Sigurd, Kaja, and some of their supporters to a private meeting over their anticipated votes, the others might reveal themselves.”
Unlike everyone else in Rodian’s circle of advisors, Arkadi did not immediately shoot that suggestion down. Perhaps it was a little crazy to put himself out there as bait, but Rodian thought it would be better to keep the number of casualties down.
“Your palace guard would not like that,” Arkadi said slowly.
