The Chamberlain was not at all a coward, Faraj thought again. But that did not mean that he was particularly sensible either.
Blinking ferociously at the tears welling in her eyes, Najra scrubbed a hand across her face with shaking impatience.
“Thank you, hunt-brother,” she said to Kamil, whose pupils were blown huge and black from the overpowering amount of catnip in the air.
“Let’s get you back outside where the air is clear,” Faraj told Kamil, concerned. “Esha, if you and Ahmed would see to cat-proofing a nursery space in here…?”
“Yes, of course, your Highness,” Esha said softly. And whenshetook a tape measure from the mending basket, Faraj didn’t foresee even the slightest flare of silver-tipped threat to Sahar’s well-being.
The outer balcony garden was one of Faraj’s more carefully designed refuges. The garden centered on a babbling fountain whose rippling path over bell-chimes and harmoniously pitched stones had been planned both for beauty and for discretion. Scry-charms couldn’t cross running water, and soft voices were less likely to be heard through the fountain’s chatter and a touch of delicate warding. The benches set in the shade of themashrabiya-enclosed balcony a story higher had a careful trickle of dancing water splashing behind them as well as the broader streams to the front and sides.
Faraj stepped into the center of the scry-warded garden benches and settled Sahar’s basket out of splashing range. Then he held out his arms, and Najra flung herself into his embrace with a sound she’d clearly hoped would be mistaken for a laugh.
“Youfoundhim!” she said, hugging him until he squeaked; that foresight hadn’t even needed prophecy. Then she let go and scrubbed at her face again. “T-tell me everything.”
“Come back here,” Faraj said, offering his arms again. “You are my Designated Cuddle-Assistant, yes? Cuddles are…” He sighed. “Very much needed, I think.”
“Thejaliisn’t glazed, the — the backlighting — Esha and Ahmed?—”
“There are so many more terrible tales they could tell of my forbidden cat and my unforgivable stubbornness than of a hug in a sunlit garden with three chaperones and a friend in distress.”
“Then n-nobody needs more weapons.” Najra scrubbed at her face again. It wasn’t like her to let anyone see her weep, and she seemed frustrated that she couldn’t manage to stop.To Kamil, she said, “I’m s-so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to defend me.”
“Not you alone,” Kamil rumbled. In the grip of the catnip, he was rubbing his back against the carved texture of thejali, claws flexing rhythmically against the empty air, and Faraj thought he didn’t realize he was doing it. “Myshahzadaforesaw a threat. I responded. …What did you see?”
Faraj took a breath, but the words caught in his throat.The Chamberlain would have pricked her with silver to seek her banishmentandI would have felt itwere too closely tangled intoMaster Asharan must have felt it tooandpoor little Nehal.
They were both watching him too closely. They both knew him too well.
Najra said, “I’m betting on silver for banishment, something sharp somewhere in the tapestry kit. I’mnotplanning to test the hypothesis, for the record.”
“Yes,” Faraj managed, because it was true enough. “Thank you.”
“And because it was the Chamberlain, I’m betting he would have gone for Sahar. Which also suggests you’re spell-bonded enough that you’d feel her injury if your foresights warned you.”
His throat had closed entirely, and he couldn’t look at Kamil. He nodded a little.
Wryly practical, Najra said, “Maybe we’d better prepare an excuse for you to take a personal day off your schedule at short notice, if you’ll share her experience of kitten-bearing.”
“Merciful stars,yes. We need an excuse that isn’t food poisoning, because I would truly hate for the kitchen staff to be questioned or chastised or, mercy forbid,replacedover a misunderstanding like?—”
Najra put a finger to his lips and said, “Clearly that wasn’t the problem you couldn’t speak of. So whatwasthe problem you couldn’t speak of?”
(Najra could be just as ruthless in her hunting of knowledge as Kamil was in his hunting of danger. Most of the time, Faraj appreciated it more than he did at the present moment.)
“Personal, then,” Najra said, rubbing her chin. She had never mastered the knack of silent speech the way most catfolk did, the way Kamil had taught Faraj; but with insights like hers she didn’t really need the pawing-through of other people’s thoughts, because she would have been even more terrifying. “If it had to do with anyone else, you’d be fretting with us over how to help them.”
“Must we really?” Faraj asked, plaintive.
“Your foresight says it matters. Your bodyguard just overdosed himself on catnip on the strength of his faith in your foresight. Don’t leave him in the dark, Faraj.”
She only used his personal name when it was important. In public she called himyour Highness, of course, but in the private study she often amused herself and the Eldest Archivist with pet-names. Faraj briefly wished she’d called him something likeyour Royal Cuddliness, because then he could have laughed.
On a deeply personal level, he understood the ache of little Priye’s struggles with finding the right words to not hurt someone. Every word felt sharp as cracked glass underfoot, and he had to keep walking.
“If… if I would feel… when the Chamberlain would. Um. Would seek Sahar’s… ending. Last night… my teacher, his familiar…” Faraj’s throat closed again, and he couldn’t force another sound around the knot, for fear it might come through as tears.
Kamil bit at the stone with a panting growl, still rubbing his back against the texture of thejalias a slightly more controlled choice than rolling around in the grass batting at seed-stalks under the influence of the catnip.
