“I am here to make sure you stay alive and that Canjir is protected. Lucky for you, those things coincide. I need you to remember our situation going forward, though. You can not let your guard down. No Vaetrean can ever be trusted. You will be near Syrus on multiple occasions going forward, no matter what. You know who he is and how he acts. If that changes, if he tries to befriend you?—”
“I’ll know it’s a trap of some kind. I know.” Eiri sighed, risking a glance over at his new husband. Syrus wasn’t as good at keeping his expression blank, his displeasure on display for everyone to see. Eiri knew it was because he and Kien were still speaking Canjiri, but to the assembled guests it must look as though Syrus was upset about Eiri in general. Which was true,of course, but surely a prince knew better than to put his emotions on display. Had no one taught him how to survive the den of vipers that was a royal court?
Even though he’d avoided court back home, his father and then his mother had been on the council and he’d been forced to attend a number of ceremonies. The first thing his mother had taught her children was how to keep their thoughts to themselves.
A kinder person may have felt sympathy for the man, or even offered advice. A good person wouldn’t plot how to use that against him. As Eiri was neither, he stayed silent.
Kien went quiet beside him, satisfied that Eiri had seemingly taken his lesson to heart. The rest of the feast passed in a blur of noise and increasingly drunken laughter, but Eiri kept his attention on the food, eating until his stomach felt ready to burst. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had access to so many fresh fruits and vegetables. The platters at the head table alone could probably feed half his hometown and the wedding guests just took it for granted. Some even turned their noses up at them.
“What do you think they do with all the food these spoiled brats won’t eat?” he whispered to Kien as they were finishing. They’d both all but ignored the trays of various meats in favor of fresh produce. Like Eiri, Kien mixed the vegetables into his rice, allowing the light sauce to soak into the grains.
“You may not like the answer.” At Eiri’s raised eyebrow, Kien sighed. “More than likely, they will feed it to the livestock. The animal bones may be saved for soup stock, but it is just as likely that guests will take them for their hounds.”
Eiri looked out over the room, appalled. Dozens of platters sat along each table, most of them still half full and some looked as though they hadn’t been touched. All of this would go to waste? Surely there were people in the city who would eat it.In every city, every town, there were always people who didn’t have enough, and these arrogant, entitled nobles would rather throw food to the pigs than feed their own people.
“And they have the audacity to call us barbaric,” he ground out. Beside him, Syrus shot him an annoyed look.
“I told you to speak Vaetrean,” he hissed. Eiri kept his expression clear this time, which only seemed to make Syrus more annoyed. He couldn’t stop the little curl of satisfaction that knowledge gave him.
“You did. I ignored you,” he said, dry as the Ashtaari Desert back home.
“I should have known you wouldn’t have the common decency to speak the language of the land you’re in. I clearly expected too much from someone like you.”
“Clearly,” Eiri agreed. Syrus’ attempt at an insult didn’t even faze him. He’d been called much worse by much better people than a spoiled Vaetrean prince. Like any bully, the man just wanted to get a rise out of Eiri, and when he didn’t get the response he was looking for, he scowled.
“You and I are going to have a very serious discussion about what is expected of you now.”
“And I’m so looking forward to it, but for the moment, I’d suggest reining in that temper before your mommy yells at you again.” Honey dripped from every word, sickly sweet and condescending, but accurate. When Syrus turned to look, Queen Delia’s withering gaze had whatever retort Syrus planned dying before it left his lips. He settled for shooting a nasty glare at Eiri, then ignoring him.
“Eiri…”
“I can’t help it. He’s absolutely infuriating.”
That answer just had Kien shaking his head again. “Just finish eating so we can get out of here and finally get some rest, alright?”
“I’ll do my best. I won’t start anything, but I can’t promise I won’t finish it if he can’t restrain himself.”
“I suppose I will work with what I can get. Just eat.”
That was an easy enough task, and Eiri set himself to finishing the lingering crumbs on his plate. The feast was drawing to an end, thankfully, and soon he would be away from his new husband and could finally let down his guard.
“You can’t be serious?”
Eiri froze in the doorway, taking in his new accommodations. The servant beside him, an older Vaetrean man with a too-serious face, paused and raised an eyebrow.
“Your Grace?”
He shuddered at the title, his skin crawling with the weight of it. “I thought I was to have a room for myself and my companion?” He gestured to Kien, who was doing a better job hiding his surprise than Eiri was.
“Your servant’s room is down the hall. Marla will show him there once you’re settled.” The man gestured to the servant beside him, a young woman who looked to be Akari’s age. “Your belongings have already been brought up, though we can’t spare anyone to unpack them at the moment. I assume your man will be capable?”
“Of course,” Kien said before Eiri could respond to the blatant insult. “However, we were under the assumption that my lord and Prince Syrus would have separate quarters?”
“The queen herself instructed me to bring you here. Should you have any complaints about your rooms, I suggest you take it to her,” the man sniffed. “I will leave you to get situated.”
The uptight man strode out of the room, leaving the girl standing alone with them.
“Would you like to see your room, ambassador?” she asked softly. Unlike the older man, there was no hostility on Marla’s face. If anything, she looked uncomfortable with what had just happened, her hands twisting the hem of her apron.
