“We’re fine.”
Their answers overlapped each other, and yet they still didn’t look at any of them. Unfortunately, their issues would have to wait until they figured out this mess with Queen Delia. Syrus took a seat, only this time, he chose the chair beside Eiri rather than the one at the end of the table. Xan and Ellis didn’t seem to notice the change, too caught up in their own drama, which was an odd relief. Eiri wasn’t sure he was quite ready to share the details of the changes in his relationship with Syrus, not when he hadn’t figured it out himself.
“Alright.” Syrus sat up straighter, everyone’s attention shifting to him. “Let’s get to work.”
The solution they finally came up with was a half-measure, at best, but it would have to do for now. With limited resources and only the four of them, there was only so much they could accomplish in a hurry. More likely than not, they were just going to piss everyone off, incur the retribution of the queen, and have the gossip-mongers whispering for weeks.
Despite that, Eiri didn’t let himself get discouraged. He’d walked into that room yesterday at rock bottom, alone and exhausted. He’d walked out with two people he could now consider friends and a tentative agreement with his husband.
There were half a dozen things he needed to focus on, things he needed to get done before the celebration tonight, but try as he might to concentrate, his thoughts kept circling back to Syrus. Specifically, the way Syrus had kissed him as though he meant something. It wasn’t just something that happened inthe heat of the moment. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Even though he’d been falling apart, Syrus had waited for his consent.
It was hard to reconcile the man who’d held him while he cried, whose touches set his skin alight, with the man who’d sneered at him and called him trash just a few weeks ago. If he let himself linger on it too long, insecurity tried to creep back in, fueled by Kien’s harsh words. He hadn’t seen the other man since they’d spoken yesterday morning, and he’d promised Syrus he wouldn’t retreat from this, but it was easier said than done. For all that he’d judged Syrus for acting on old prejudices, he was finding it just as hard to let go of his own.
He’d deal with that later, though. Right now, he had only a few more hours to get everything ready before the party tonight. It was a birthday celebration for a princess, but Eiri couldn’t remember which one. None of the royal family had introduced themselves to him, aside from Ellis. He knew the queen’s name and that of her husband, Syrano, along with crown prince Brandow. There were two sisters between Brandow and Syrus, then a younger sister, and finally Ellis. All the older siblings were married, or Eiri likely would have found himself betrothed to one of the princesses. Personal preference had no place in these marriage contracts, something he’d quickly learned when an old crew mate of his, Larilia, was married to a male baron from Gavarria, despite preferring other women.
Whoever had come up with this ridiculous idea of marriage contracts to cobble together a shaky peace ought to be forced into a marriage of their own.
A sharp stab of pain in his finger pulled his wandering thoughts back to the project at hand, reminding him he needed to pay attention. One of Syrus’ old formal coats lay spread across his lap, his writing desk taken over by spools of thread. Asimilar one, belonging to Ellis, lay spread out on the bed, finished and awaiting its owner. Lost in his thoughts, the needle bit deeply into his fingertip, drawing a drop of blood to the surface.
The plan, naturally, had come from Xan, who knew more about fashion at court than the other three of them combined. According to him, the clothing one wore spoke volumes without the wearer having to say a word. Eiri was aware of that much, having seen the looks directed at him for wearing his formal Canjiri attire to his wedding. At home, the clothing would have drawn comments only for how good he looked in them. Here, according to Xan, his clothing was considered garish, and wearing red, the color of luck, prosperity, and happiness at home, was an insult in Vaetreas.
So, with Xan’s guidance, they were going to make a statement through fashion. Something small enough to hopefully keep the queen from retaliating too hard, but bold enough to make everyone aware that Syrus was standing with his husband.
To that end, Eiri had been up all night embroidering Canjiri designs into jackets for Syrus and Ellis. They’d both chosen white garments, so the red flowers would clearly stand out. If he’d had more time, he could have added more detail, but these would do for the evening. Xan had declared he would do his own, of course, and would also create an outfit for Eiri to wear tonight. It went against every promise he’d made to himself to hold on to his heritage, but he’d agreed to compromise. He would wear Vaetrean clothing tonight, but Xan promised to alter it enough to stay true to his roots.
Choosing the red thread proved to be a wise decision. Eiri cursed when he stabbed himself again and a droplet of blood soaked into the thread, another welling up behind it. He hurriedly put the jacket on the desk before he dripped on that,as well, but before he could get to the washroom, someone knocked on the door. It wasn’t Kien’s brisk rap, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want to face the man just yet, not until this was done.
Keeping his thumb pressed against the tiny wound, he opened the door to find a servant outside, holding a tea tray. After a moment, he realized he recognized her.
“Marla, right?” She’d been the first person to be nice to him when he arrived, but he hadn’t seen her since his first night at the palace. “I didn’t ask for anything,” he said, but stepped aside to allow her inside anyway. The tray looked heavy.
She smiled warmly as she stepped inside. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.” She quickly set everything down on the small table near the window and lifted the lid to reveal a small tea service, including a plate of tiny sandwiches and another of little pastries. The teapot was small, only enough for perhaps three cups, but to his surprise, he caught the distinct scent of the spiced tea popular back on Canjir.
“You’re the only palace staff who will actually talk to me,” he said with a wry smile. “Thank you. Can I ask who ordered this for me? I’d like to thank them.”
“I’m not sure. Cecile just told me to bring it up. Cecile is the head of the kitchen,” she added at his blank look.
Odd. Perhaps Syrus had sent him lunch? Or Kien, as a peace offering? “I didn’t realize the palace kept a stock oftaratea. It’s my favorite, but I assumed the queen wouldn’t want a Canjiri blend here.”
Marla glanced toward the door, then leaned in a little closer, like she was imparting a secret. “I don’t believe the queen is aware of the origin of spice tea, sir.”
The idea of Queen Delia unknowingly enjoying a Canjiri drink perhaps shouldn’t have delighted him as much as it did.Eiri had never claimed to be a good person, though, so he let himself enjoy the thought.
“Thank you for that. And for lunch and the conversation. To be honest, I needed something to smile about today.”
“I’m happy to help however I can,” she said with a small bow. She started to walk out, but hesitated, biting her lip like she wanted to say something else.
“You don’t have to worry about the proprieties with me,” he assured her. “Honestly, I’m terrible at being a prince and it’d be nice to talk to someone without worrying about all the rules and etiquette.”
“I don’t think you’re a terrible prince.” Marla straightened and met his eyes. It was obvious she’d been trained not to do so from the way she struggled to maintain eye contact, but she managed. “I just wanted to stay that you have more allies here than you think. A lot of the staff and even some of the courtiers have different opinions but are afraid to say so and go against the queen.”
Eiri blinked, at a loss for words. Of all the things she could have said, that was the least expected.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she murmured when he didn’t respond, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“No, not at all. You just surprised me. I didn’t expect that.”
Marla breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes flickering back up to his after a moment. “A lot of us are hoping that things will change now that you and Prince Syrus are married.”
