“His Highness has promised you will not bite us,” the little blossom said, “and I trust in his prophecies.”
“With your livessss…?”
“With life and soul alike,” she said, chin up, and yet trembling. Faraj got to his feet and straightened the skirts of hisjama,walking over to place a hand on each of the young ones’ shoulders.
“Neferkamin,” he murmured to the High Priest of Menas and his wide dark eyes, “you may wish to look away.”
“How can a High Priest claim his faith more frail a reed than a servant’s?” Neferkamin asked, and moved to stand beside him.
“Your sssscentsss and powderssss cannot masssk your fear.”
“They don’t need to,” Faraj said. “They only need to mask the smoke and drippings from the roasts.”
Beketmeret hissed in either displeasure or amusement; Faraj sometimes had difficulty telling which was which, with her. He stepped forward, putting himself between her fangs and the young servants, trusting Neferkamin to steady them if needed, and rolling up his inner sleeve to bare his wrist.
“In your greatness, your Glory, you have never needed to sate yourself with tiny mice when a more tempting power stands before you,” he said, offering her his hand and his bare wrist. “These little ones are under my protection. Take my hand first, in whatever way you will, and let us be done.”
Beketmeret bent her head in what would have been humility from a human, but which let the ticklish flicker of her tongue taste the bare skin of his wrist.
“Keep your hand,” she said, “and your dussty assshes of rossses.” She slithered back to the brazier and coiled up more tightly than usual, either sulking or saving her warmth for the night.
Faraj didn’t sigh his relief; he couldn’t admit that much in front of so many eyes. But he cupped his hands together next to the servant’s bowl of sweet-scented hand-powders.
“With all due respect to our catfolk-priestesses,” he said, “I fear I am even less inclined than usual to make my hands smell edible.”
With a slightly hysterical giggle, thekhadimtipped a measure of the scented powder into his cupped hands so that he could rub them both clean and dry, then offered him a cloth to dust the remnants away.
“Thank you, your Highness,” the little blossom said.
“Thank you for your faith,” he replied, smiling. “My brother’s peace is strengthened by the many hands that hold it so dearly.”
“With all respect to the God-Emperor’s peace,” Neferkamin murmured, “his Imperial Majesty is not the praiseworthy man we see here, tonight, standing between his people and danger.”
“Oh — well, of course it is my honor and my duty to stand in His stead, whenever I may.”
“How do you somehow manage to be the most foresightful and yet most oblivious fool I’ve ever met?” Neferkamin sighed, and offered his hands to the shocked-lookingkhadimwith the bowl of powdered fish. “If you would indulge me, young one, I would like to smell lickable tosomeonein this mad menagerie. I hope at least the catfolk will find me diverting.”
“You need never question your appeal, O treasure of Menas,” Faraj sighed.
“At any other time you would be right,” Neferkamin said. “But tonight… well.” He managed a crooked smile. “Modesty isdreadful.Even for a few hours. I don’t know how the rest of you live with it.”
“We do muddle through, as obliviously as we can,” Faraj said. “One who values his modesty must cling to it with some determination in your presence.”
“Butwhy?”Neferkamin asked. “My God’s worship is clearly more enjoyable!”
“Nevertheless,” Faraj said, much the same way he had to Beketmeret, and for much the same reason… although Neferkamin’s pout was so much harder to resist.
Something that tickled like soft ears or whiskers perked up in his thoughts at the scent of fish warmed by rubbing between Neferkamin’s hands, but Faraj only realized it was neither himself nor Kamil when the feeling of a sleepy, luxuriant stretch followed.
Fish AND petting?Sahar asked hopefully.
Faraj realized that his cat-familiar had napped her way through the entire evening’s drama. Of course, she must have known just as clearly as he did that Beketmeret would not bite him, because he knew it himself.
Every political quagmire short of venom, she’d decided, was her human’s problem to solve, not her own.
It was unseemly for a prince of the realm to wildly envy his cat for her untroubled, drama-free nap. Irresponsible. Unbecoming. And she was quite correct that the political problems were her human’s to solve, because her presence would only have compounded them.
…Faraj envied her anyway.
