12
Devotion
FARAJ
When the recitation of verses and the formal farewells were complete, when thekhadimunahad extinguished the oil lamps and escorted the priests to palanquins or guest rooms, when the Chamberlain closed the banquet hall’s doors behind the last pair of them so that they finally stood alone in an empty, quiet room filled only by moonlight slanting through the intricate stone latticework of the courtyardjali, Faraj finally let himself sigh his relief.
The corner of Irfan’s mouth quirked.
“I hope I was up to your standards,” Faraj said. “I do try.”
“You were magnificent, your Highness,” Irfan told him, stepping close enough to brush an imaginary speck of dust from Faraj’s gold-woven collar. Irfan had always needed an excuse to touch, to share the comfort of touch, even so briefly. His smile was unexpectedly unsteady. “If I didn’t know better,” he murmured, “I would never have guessed that you have been bewitched.”
Faraj tried not to sigh again, because he couldn’t say that he hadn’t been. “Ask Archivist Najra what her spellbooks say about the theology of cat-familiars.”
Irfan’s posture snapped straight and tense, and he took his hands away. “Your pardon, your Highness, I cannotpossiblyhave heard you correctly. You would not have suggested that I should ask anotoriously heretical book-witchabout matters oftheology.”
“I would appreciate it greatly if you would consider her my beloved and eccentric friend, more than a heretical book-witch.”
“She sent you to be ensorcelled!”
“She encouraged me to follow my visions.”
“Your Highness,” Irfan said, in torment, “you are the God-Emperor’snadhir. Your visions have only ever presented you with disaster.”
Faraj sighed again, because he really couldn’t say that Irfan waswrong.“On occasion it is more troublesome mischief than utter disaster? I do love Tel-Bastet for its mischief.”
“I know you do, your Highness. I know.” He brushed another imaginary speck from the saffron silk of Faraj’sjama, daring to let his hand linger for just a moment against Faraj’s chest. “My heart nearly stopped with the fear that anyone could see into the open courtyard, that anyone could prick the cat when the Cobra-Priestess struck, and you would flinch, and then…”
“I promise that would never have happened,” Faraj told him gently. “Whether or not Sahar was vexed at that particular moment. I was certain that Beketmeret would not strike me tonight, that it would not happen because it already could not have happened — oh, I don’t know how to explain the tangling of the time-threads. But I am truly very sorry for your distress, and for Kamil’s.”
“I have faith in your prophecy, your Highness. But I also know how difficult it is for you to foresee in the dark. Watchingher strike at you tonight, lit by only a scattering of lamp-flame… if you had needed me to stop her, I… couldn’t have. ” Irfan gave a shuddering sigh. “How else have I failed to serve you? How have I failed to see what drove you into the night, into the grasp of a sorcerer’s enchantments, because we had not —Ihad not?—”
Faraj put his hand over Irfan’s, and held it to his heart.
“None of this is your fault,” he said.
“If I had served your every need, you would not have dreamed of that night’s bewitchment forhalf your life.”
“Irfan,” Faraj said, “it was never your duty to serve my every need.”
“That isexactlymy duty! It always has been! By the God-Emperor’s grace, it will be for the rest of my life. Unless I am too deeply flawed, my faith too inadequate?—”
“Irfan.”Sometimes Faraj wished he was taller, because the Chamberlain’s slender height made it awkward to try to meet his eyes when he looked away from what he could not bear. Gently, firmly, he insisted, “Noneof this isyour fault.”
“You trusted a heretic, and she sent you into the grasp of witchery that bound a sorcerer’s spy into your living heart, because you could not trust me the same way. Because you knew I would have stopped you.”
“Yes,” Faraj admitted.
“How did she do it? How did you elude even Kamil?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Because you’ll use it again, to meet with the sorcerer who has such a grasp on your soul.” In a breaking voice, he rasped, “I have only ever denied you in one way, because you have never asked it of me. If you will turn aside from this path, your Highness, then anything you might desire of me is yours.”
“Oh,Irfan. No.”
“Tell me what else you need and I will give it to you! I can think of nothing else in my power that I have withheld?—”
