“It seems my reputation precedes me,” Arkadi said, amused at her judgment more than anything else.
“I am Lidiya, the Isar’s personal aide. He informed me he was expecting you for the midday meal.” The way her lips pressed together told him she was irked by that. “Please follow me.”
Arkadi did as he was ordered, following Lidiya through the foyer to a grand archway. A magician bound to the palace guard posted there held a clarion crystal–tipped brass wand before him and deftly called forth magic from the aether. Arkadi stood silently as the ribbons of the seeking spell twined around his body, searching for a threat.
Arkadi had no magic, but some in his family did. Those who were magicians dedicated their power to the Star Order and the continuation of their country. Every weapon Arkadi carried onhis person had been delicately engraved with a deflecting spell that blocked the seeking spell from noticing them.
The magician found nothing out of the ordinary, and Arkadi was once again thankful for his family’s magic. Arkadi was then led through the bustling halls of the administration section of the palace and into a quieter wing that held the royal family’s private suite of rooms. Arkadi had never been high enough in social rank to earn an invitation to a private audience during the previous ruling family’s reign. Now, it was only one man rattling about the massive palace, outnumbered by everyone.
It was, certainly, a lonely place to be.
“Wait here,” Lidiya instructed him before sweeping out of the parlor she’d deposited him in.
Arkadi drifted over to the window, peering out at the vast snow-covered garden beyond. The enchanting white vista was contained by the palace wall in the far distance, the rest of the city stretching out beyond. Buildings with tall wooden peaked roofs or the more traditional, brightly colored onion domes at various heights filled the view against a sea of white. The sun was out, shining weakly in the sky, giving them just a few hours of sunlight in the harsh black of winter.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made him turn around in time to see the Isar arrive, with Lidiya at the tall man’s heels. Arkadi immediately straightened and put a fist over his heart before bowing to the royal degree. “Isar.”
Isar Rodian nodded in acknowledgment, but it almost seemed an afterthought, as if he was still remembering the protocols that came with being royal as opposed to ivoryanin. “I understand my request was delivered on short notice, but I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me nonetheless.”
Arkadi stared at him, wondering if Rodian heard himself. No royal in the past would offer such platitudes, but perhapsthey did things differently up in the far north. “I am yours to command, Isar.”
“Rodian,” the other man replied, his deep voice rumbling between them in a way that made Arkadi’s knees go weak for an instant. “Please, you may call me Rodian.”
“Then I must insist you call me Arkadi.”
Rodian nodded. “Very well.”
Arkadi studied the man whom the Midnight Sun had chosen as their ruler. Last night on the balcony, their time together had been brief, each of them trapped in the roles they were meant to play. Here and now, while Arkadi had garbed himself for a formal visit, Rodian’s outfit was far more muted and understated, despite the fine cloth. The dark brown trousers and matching long-vest over a white tunic were something no ivoryanin in the capital would be caught dead in.
Without the extra bulk of ceremonial clothing or his crown, Rodian was still a mountain of a man. Taller than Arkadi, with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms and legs and a firm torso, the clothes he wore emphasized a physique used to hard work, not sitting on a throne. His wavy hair fell loose to his shoulders as it had last night. His face was a bit weather-worn beneath his neatly trimmed beard, but the faint crow’s feet at the corners of his brown eyes were probably more from laughter than anything else. Most male ivoryanin did not have beards, and Arkadi wondered if that would change in the coming months.
His fingers itched to touch Rodian’s beard, and a thought came, traitorously unbidden, making him wonder what it would feel like to have that beard scrape across his skin.
“Your letter did not say what you wished to discuss, only that you wanted to meet,” Arkadi said, hoping to distract himself from thoughts of what the Isar might taste like.
“Yes. I hope you haven’t eaten yet. I asked for the meal to be set up in the glass garden today. We can speak there.”
“I am at your disposal.”
He meant it honestly, even if Lidiya seemed to judge him for it. Arkadi was well aware of the reputation he had in court, one he’d done his best to cultivate to achieve his goal of information gathering. What she would never understand was that the currency he held was worth more than most things in the country.
Blackmail material was rarely worthless.
“Then please, follow me,” Rodian said, already turning for the door.
For a moment, Arkadi found himself sharing a commiserating glance with Lidiya as they both tried to come to terms with a polite Isar. Shaking his head, Arkadi followed Rodian out of the room while Lidiya remained behind. He was careful to maintain a pace that was a step behind Rodian, who seemed not to care about royal protocol and kept trying to match his stride to Arkadi’s as they walked down the hall.
“Lidiya was against me sending you the letter,” Rodian said.
“I am sure she has her reasons,” Arkadi replied.
“They weren’t enough to dissuade me.”
“Clearly.”
Rodian slanted him an amused look. “You are remarkably forthright. It reminds me of my younger sister.”
Arkadi didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. “Would you prefer I agree with everything you say?”
