Arkadi arched an eyebrow. “Truly? Not at all?”
Rodian shrugged, not sure how to explain he’d always felt out of place due to his size and thus had never wanted to be put in the position to be made a fool of, despite his status as ivoryan and, later, Minister of his town. Now, as Isar, he knew it would be inevitable that he’d have to find someone and court them and dance with them. It didn’t matter that he’d anointed his nephew as his heir for now; ivoryanin would expect him to produce his own if he married a woman.
“I was never taught.”
“Well, that is one thing I can assist with. We can let this be your first lesson.”
Arkadi took one last sip of his tea before placing the teacup down on the table and standing. He walked over to the phonograph and perused the records stored beneath it in the ornate cabinet before choosing a different one. The music stopped momentarily but then started up again after he wound the mechanics and placed the new record on the machine. Music swelled out of the flower-shaped horn, the notes of a waltz floating through the air.
Arkadi returned to the table and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
Trepidation made Rodian’s stomach knot up, but he didn’t see any hint of mockery in Arkadi’s eyes. Choosing to take his hand was easier after that. “Allow me to apologize in advance for stepping on your feet.”
Arkadi laughed as Rodian gripped his hand. The younger man’s hand was smaller than his, and he was surprised to feel a couple of calluses on Arkadi’s fingers. “You will do fine. Just follow my lead.”
Rodian wasn’t certain about that, but he stood and let himself be led to the center of the garden patio. Arkadi guided Rodian’s arms into a position he personally found ridiculous. But it drew him closer to the younger man, the cage of their arms preventing true contact. Arkadi was tall, and not having to bend his head to look down was refreshing for Rodian. Perhaps it was the tease of that position that made Rodian think about what Arkadi would look like beneath him, long hair spread across a silk pillow, with his impossibly long legs wrapped around Rodian’s waist.
He swallowed, suddenly glad they weren’t pressed together so Arkadi wouldn’t feel the growing interest in his cock.
Then Arkadi stepped to the side, forcing Rodian to follow, and he tried to mimic the dance steps as best he could, feeling silly while doing so. Arkadi moved with a fluidity that Rodianwould never possess, eventually guiding him into a simple rhythm that followed the beat of the song as they carefully spun over the flagstones. He did step on Arkadi’s feet, apologizing profusely for each transgression, but Arkadi didn’t even wince, just laughed it off and coaxed Rodian into continuing the dance.
The lack of judgment made it easier for Rodian to relax, knowing it was just them in the garden, and not taking center stage in a ballroom, surrounded by ivoryanin and being silently judged behind false smiles.
Arkadi led him through two more dances before he paused and readjusted their arms. He smiled encouragingly up at Rodian as the next song flowed through the phonograph’s horn, the notes a little staticky. “Now, it’s your turn to lead.”
He’d been doing that for weeks already, alone and floundering, but somehow doing so just then with Arkadi in his arms, it seemed easier. Rodian would never like dancing, but he liked it well enough in that moment, holding Arkadi in his arms and carefully twirling them around the garden beneath the glass ceiling, wishing he dared draw the other man closer to kiss that soft, encouraging smile off his lips.
Six
RODIAN
The motor carriage that pulled into the palace forecourt bore two small flags over the gas headlights, the royal seal and the specific one given to the royal heir. Rodian shifted on his feet, blinking tiny snowflakes out of his eyes. Lidiya had tried to dissuade him from greeting his sister and nephew so informally, but in that area, Rodian had put his foot down. He had given up much since taking the crown, but he would not give up the love freely given to his only sibling.
A servant moved to open the rear passenger side door of the motor carriage. A small boy tumbled out, dressed for the harsh winter of the far north. He shrieked in joy once he caught sight of Rodian and raced forward.
“Uncle Rodian!” Heike called out with all the exuberance of a young child whose personality hadn’t been leashed by royal protocol.
“My favorite nephew!” Rodian said, smiling widely as Heike threw himself at Rodian, fully expecting to be caught. Rodian did so deftly before lifting him up and tossing him with ease into theair overhead. Heike screamed with laughter, the earflaps of his little furred hat fluttering in the air.
“You are not to spoil him,” came the tart warning from his sister.
Rodian set Heike back on his feet, the six-year-old boy beaming up at him, swinging their hands back and forth. Sakka emerged from the motor carriage with an economical grace Rodian had been hard-pressed to learn growing up. Both of them had their father’s height, but while Rodian’s coloring took after their father, Sakka looked very much like their mother.
She came toward them, tall as ever, two thick blonde braids falling over her shoulders. Her outfit was practical for traveling over the tundra and through the boreal forest, meant to keep her warm as opposed to looking fashionable. The high furred hat she wore added to her height, her boots always having a practical heel.
She still wore the mourning leathers wrapped tight around the ends of her braids, dyed a deep purple it looked almost black. Sakka had not changed her hairstyle in five years, not since she’d written her husband’s name on the memory wall in their old town. Lev had been lost with other fishermen when part of a cliff had sheared off and fallen into the sea, sending a tidal wave rushing through the cove a dozen fishermen had been hunting in.
The loss was acute for Sakka, as they’d known each other since they were children. Heike had no memory of his father, and Rodian had stepped up in that role as needed, becoming a sort of father figure to his nephew.
“I’ve missed you, little sister,” Rodian said, wrapping her up in a hug that was probably not approved royal protocol, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Sakka in weeks.
“I’m sure the soldiers sent to guard us up north are glad to be back here,” she drawled.
Rodian put her at arm’s length, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Sakka.”
She sniffed primly at him. “It is not my fault city-dwellers cannot stomach working beyond the walls.”
Rodian could only think what she had put her guards through in his absence—nothing less than he would have, when it came to working the herds. “To be fair, the pastures have fences.”
