He chuckled, the sound holding none of the flirtatiousness everyone else’s had that night. The young man carried himself with a sureness Rodian could appreciate. Competency had always won him over more than pretty words. “I would be lying if I said no.”
That was the first truthful thing Rodian had heard all day, couched in none of the doublespeak that came with court politics. The social masks people wore in the capital weren’t anything those up in the far north would ever even think of putting on. His family never had, and his sister would disdain the political maneuverings of Rodian’s new life. Sakka had no patience for people who did not speak plainly.
He missed his younger sister terribly, but she had elected to remain in Verdlovsk to finalize the transfer of Rodian’s rulership to a cousin. She and her son, Heike, would be traveling to Matriskav within the week. He had not yet formally announced his nephew as his heir, but the paperwork had all been finalized alongside his coronation.
Rodian hummed thoughtfully and stepped further onto the balcony. The palace guards discreetly blocked the entrance behind him, allowing him a much-needed break from the clawing attention of the court. That he had wanted to be alone and now wasn’t did not seem like such a terrible thing at the moment.
“And yet, I have not seen you in the ballroom before now with all the others,” Rodian said.
One dark brow arched high, amusement finally seeping into that cool gaze. “Would you say yes to a dance if I asked, Isar?”
Rodian couldn’t quite hide his grimace, which caused the ivoryan to laugh. It wasn’t mocking, though, more a quiet sort of amusement, as if they shared a secret. “What is your name?”
“Ah, my apologies, Isar.” The ivoryan drew to his full height and pressed a fist over his heart, bowing to the royal degree. “I am Ivoryan Arkadi.”
“Have you been in Matriskav for long?”
Arkadi straightened, letting his arm fall back to his side. He didn’t shift on his feet or flutter about like some of the other guests did when confronted with Rodian’s attention. He knew he could come across as intimidating because of his size, but he’d long since learned how to encourage people to feel safe without making himself be small. With Arkadi, he didn’t feel he needed to do that, not with the easy way the younger man acted around him—calm and open, with no nervousness in his carriage.
“My family has called the capital home for generations. Most of my family serve in the Star Order, but we are ivoryanin. Our bloodline has been listed in the nobility genealogies since the Poison Accords were signed. My grandmother, beloved vicious matriarch that she is, prefers a few of us to be at court, and I quite like it.”
Rodian could see how court would be entertaining for someone like Arkadi, who seemed as if he’d thrive as the center of attention. “If you like the royal court, then you must know everyone here tonight.”
Arkadi nodded slowly. “I do. I also knew many of those lost asrionetkas.”
Rodian had never seen arionetka, only heard of them in the never-ending reports he’d been tasked with reading—people whose hearts had been replaced by a clockwork one and forced to go on living their life as if they weren’t living a lie, hidden in plain sight. Such horrific control magicians had wroughtthrough magic was the stuff of nightmares, and it had almost crippled their government.
“You survived.”
Arkadi lifted his chin, those icy eyes going flinty. “My loyalty has never been in question.”
“Good.” Rodian cleared his throat. “Then perhaps you could enlighten me as to the desires of the ivoryanin.”
Arkadi blinked a few times in surprise, thick lashes a shadowed fringe around his eyes. “Pardon?”
Rodian gestured at the ballroom behind them, full of people he had nothing in common with. “As good as the teachers are that the palace administration has provided me, I know nothing of the capital or its people or its bloodlines. Three weeks ago, I was herding reyndeer with my family, and the most I had to worry about was the upcoming tax deadline for my town. I don’t know the rules here, and I need to.”
He tried not to let the panic seep into his voice, throttling it before it slipped past his teeth. He knew it was risky asking for such help from someone not vetted by the palace, but it was too late to take the words back.
And Arkadi, to his credit, didn’t immediately fall over himself to accept. He merely stared at Rodian with a calmness that made some instinct in Rodian—the one that kept him alive outside his old town’s walls while herding reyndeer—tell him he’d made the right choice with this offer.
“You have an aide,” Arkadi said after a moment.
“She is not ivoryanin.” Rodian might have grown up in the far north, considered backward by the majority of city-folk for where he hailed from, but they would never deny he was ivoryanin. He would always have a place with them, while Lidiya would never be welcome where he could walk. She might know the world of the court, but she did not live it.
Not how they did.
It was in their blood, after all.
“Far be it from me to deny the Isar what support I can give,” Arkadi finally said, inclining his head. “I am at your disposal until you say otherwise. Would you like to start now?”
Before Rodian could answer, someone cleared their throat very politely behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found Lidiya standing in the balcony doorway, staring at him expectantly. Her keen gaze flicked from Rodian to Arkadi, and the faint way her mouth tightened told him she wasn’t pleased with Arkadi’s presence for whatever reason.
“Your guests await you, Isar,” Lidiya politely said, not giving him an order but very clearly reminding him of his duty.
“Perhaps I can assist another time. That might be for the best,” Arkadi murmured.
Rodian did not want that, but Arkadi gave him a parting serene smile and left the balcony before Rodian could find his tongue again. Rodian watched him go, brow furrowed thoughtfully, gaze lingering on the younger man’s long legs, the hem of his calf-length long-vest fluttering about them. Once he was gone, Lidiya found no reason to hide her frown from him.
