Syrus couldn’t be sure about that, either, so he chose not to address it. “She wasn’t incorrect. A more slender physique has grown popular over the last few years. It’s her job to dress youin clothing that is in keeping with current trends. Royalty should never be seen as falling behind the times.”
Eiri sat up straighter in the plush armchair he’d all but claimed as his own, eyes narrowing even more than usual. “It’s fashionable to look like you’re starving?”
“That’s… perhaps not how I would put it.” He didn’t wince, but it was close. While he’d never cared much for fashion, leaving his clothing choices in Farlin’s capable hands, there were some trends he’d questioned over the years. The modern trend toward a slender look was beyond him, given his stocky build and love of good food, so he compensated for it with his modern clothing.
“You people host feasts with more food than anyone could possibly eat, ignore that food because you want to be skinny, then throw away what’s left when there are people in your city that are actually starving? Yet, somehow, I’m the problem?”
“What does any of this have to do with clothing? The tailor is just trying to do her job.” A hint of temper slipped through the cracks before Syrus could contain it and Eiri immediately latched onto it.
“That’s what you took from what I just said?” he snapped, rising to his feet. “Not the fact that there are people starving who would do anything for even a portion of what you throw away every night?”
“You’ve been in Lodie for a week. You don’t know anything about the people here or their living situations,” Syrus growled, and the careful rein he’d kept on his temper this past week was now a bare thread.
“I know enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have eyes and a window that looks out at the city. I’ve likely seen more of the locals in the last week than you have in your life. The divide between the nobility and literally everyone else is very clear to anyone who bothers to look.”
“If you’re so concerned about the people of this city, then let the tailor do her job so she doesn’t lose that job!”
Rather than appealing to Eiri’s emotions, as he’d hoped, that only seemed to piss him off even more.
“So if I don’t let her dress me up in your ridiculous clothing, you’ll dismiss her from her job?” He muttered something in Canjiri under his breath that Syrus couldn’t understand, but probably wasn’t a compliment.
“I won’t, but my mother will. She hired Naji to dress you properly and if she fails in that task, then we don’t need her here.”
“Properly? What’s wrong with my clothing?” Whatever hold Eiri had on his temper, it was as frayed as Syrus’. One of them would break if he couldn’t get this situation under control.
“I’m sure your clothing is fine for Canjir,” he ground out. “You are not in Canjir, though. You are in Vaetreas, and your clothing is not appropriate for the halls of this castle.”
“Then I won’t walk the halls of this castle!” Eiri snapped, harsh and mocking. “I will not change who I am just because of your judgmental, archaic rules! I’m hardly walking around naked, like your courtiers seem to believe! Is a bit of color truly so scandalizing?”
“It’s not about color. It’s about fitting in! You married me and by virtue of that, you are now Vaetrean and you need to start acting like it!”
“By that logic, marrying me made you Canjiri. Maybe you’re the one who needs to start acting like it.”
“I’d rather die than have someone mistake me for Canjiri trash.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, an automatic rejection of everything Canjiri, but they landed with the force of magical explosives, undoing the work of the last week.Every meal he’d begrudgingly ordered for Eiri, every night on the floor, all of it laid to waste with a few simple words. In an instant, Eiri’s face shuttered, his thoughts and feelings locked down behind a mask of perfect calm.
“And I would rather die than become one of you,” he said evenly.
“Eiri.” Syrus didn’t know how he could possibly salvage this, but the other man didn’t give him a chance.
“No. You’ve made your feelings on this perfectly clear, as have I. I don’t see a need to keep up this charade anymore.” As he spoke, Eiri returned to the chair, picking up a dressing gown laying across the arm and slipping it on. A small book on the side table went into his pocket, surprising Syrus. There was no reason for Eiri to be illiterate, of course, he’d just assumed that was the case.
“What are you doing?” Exhaustion tugged at him, the deep weariness that came of trying to suppress everything since the wedding.
“I’m going to sleep, but I’m not going to do it here. I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your bed back.” Eiri pulled on a pair of soft shoes, similar to his sister’s slippers.
“Where are you going, then? You’re married to me, and my mother clearly wants us to share quarters.”
“I honestly don’t give a fuck what your mother wants,” Eiri said, acid sweet. “I refuse to spend the rest of my life like this. She can officially give me a separate room or I’ll choose one for myself. I don’t care which, but I’m not going to keep doing this with you.”
“A raider taking what he wants with no regard for others. Why am I not surprised?” The words were fuel on the fire but Syrus was beyond caring.
“Which proves you know absolutely nothing about me or my people. Have the night you deserve, Syrus.” Eiri turned onhis heel and marched out the door. He didn’t slam it behind him, which only pissed Syrus off more.
He should go after him, drag him back kicking and screaming if necessary. His mother would want him to. They had to keep up appearances, after all. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Eiri wouldn’t get too far. He was too recognizable as the only Canjiri in the palace and possibly the entire city.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would come up with a plan to deal with his rebellious husband once and for all. Tonight, he just wanted his bed, to sleep on comfortable pillows and chase away the fatigue that ached at the very center of his bones. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.
