“That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It almost was,” he said with the faintest ghost of a smile. “But there’s a great deal you need to learn. If Parliament doubts your heritage at all, which they will, they’ll launch an investigation. They’re sure to send letters to Brisden to inquire, so you won’t have much time to persuade Julian. Parliament will expect seals, signatures, and a hundred little proofs that your life exists on parchment. I can forge some of it to buy a little more time, but you have tosoundlike you were born to it. And when they question you, you cannot hesitate, you cannot stutter, and you cannot look to me for help.”
“I’ll have you remember this was all your idea,” I pointed out.
Zafir chuckled to himself. “If you’re opposed to the plan, you could always quit.”
“Not a chance.”
“Then you’ll need to perform well. Now, what are your lands known for?”
“Fine wines and medicinal herbs,” I answered promptly. “We supply several provinces in Coronis and Rookwyn but have never sought trade negotiations with Pyren because the shipping costs would make it unprofitable. We supply a great deal of dragonsbane to Rookwyn, but we’re best known for our fine wines, hence our coat of arms including a vineyard.”
Zafir appraised me. “It seems I’m not the only good liar in this room.”
I shrugged. “I know a tiny little bit about herbs and potions, and like you said: the best lies are built from the bones of truth. Whatever you need me to recite, I can.”
He looked at me for a long moment before nodding once, curtly. “Fine. Begin with your full title and lineage.”
And so began the longest morning of my life.
Zafir grilled me on everything from my invented childhood summers to my great-grandfather’s supposed diplomatic triumphs. He corrected the way I pronounced the names of my fake cousins, forced me to describe my favorite dishes native to Brisden in excruciating detail, and quizzed me until my throat was raw from talking so much.
We continued for hours, until I thought all my memorized ancestry would start oozing out of my ears.
Zafir finally rolled up the last scroll. “You aren’t quite as terrible a student as I was expecting.”
“You aren’t quite as terrible a teacher as I was expecting.”
Zafir shot me a look that seemed to be a cross between annoyance and amusement. “I have to get some work done. Why don’t you go alphabetize my books?”
“But I’ve been cooperating! And I thought you were just telling Julian thatyouwere going to do that last night,” I protested.
“And what will happen if Julian shows up and it isn’t done?”
“He wouldn’t notice. He likely doesn’t even remember you said it.”
“Perhaps not. But what if he comes in and you’re just lounging about looking like that?”
“I didn’t realize you thought about how I looked and duchesses are known for lounging about. If he comes in, then he’ll be jealous that you get to look at me all day. So there.”
“I’mnotgoing to be looking. I have work to do.” To show it, he crossed to his desk and stacked up a pile of books to block me from his view. “The least you could do to thank me is help.”
I turned to the shelves loaded with dusty tomes. He was probably right, and he had actually given several good tips during the duchess lessons.
“Thank you, Zafir. You’ve been very helpful.”
He let out a snort.
I trailed a finger along the edge of a lower shelf, the leather binding cool beneath my touch. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do to occupy myself until I managed to seduce Julian or think up a better plan. If Zafir wasn’t watching me like a hawk, I would’ve brewed up some potions to sell on the black market. That would earn some money quickly. I threw an annoyed expression Zafir’s way. Of course I had to be chained to a rule-abiding vizier. I pulled out one of the heaviest books and opened it.
“Don’t crack the spines!” Zafir barked. He’d glanced up from his work at the slightest creaking sound from his precious books. “That’s a first edition of Pyren’s geography.”
“I can see that.” Topographical maps littered the book. “Where are we?”
“Our capital was built in the middle of the Scorchland Desert more than two hundred years ago,” Zafir told me. “File the book under G for Geography,withoutdamaging it.”
I rolled my eyes as I reached up to slot the book in place. The motion made my bracelets clink together so that delicate chiming filled the silence of the room. Zafir glanced up at the noise, let out a small sigh of irritation, then there came the sound of his chair scraping against the ground. He had intentionally angled his chair away from me and was scratching away on his papers with his quill.
