Page 64 of The House of the Red Balconies

“Interesting,” said Zo. “Do you think so?”

“Well … I know he’s not wealthy, but there are other things to consider. And to be honest, I like him better than Timon of Kos or Governor Loukianos.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Zo.

“I’m glad the two of you found each other,” said Menthe privately to Zo as they were setting up for the evening’s guests. “I take back what I said about it being a bad idea to take up with someone living in the house. So long as you don’t rush into these things … ”

Zo laughed. “With Hylas? No fear of that.”

The mood that night was as warm as the evening air. The guests remarked on it when they began arriving.

“How could we not be happy?” said Theano. “The weather is fine, the days are growing longer, and there is still light in the sky.”

They were sitting out in the courtyard, the first time since the fall. Hylas had not come home yet, and a couple of Zo’s regular guests had talked him into taking up his flute. He heard some shuffling around of the people on his left, and someone slipped in to sit beside him.

“I’d rather you put that pretty mouth to a different use, Your Highness,” said a familiar voice, pitched low, but not really low enough.

Zo was proud of himself for not missing a note and finishing out the piece without glancing over at Timon. He finished playing and laid the flute in his lap to take a drink of wine.

“I heard an interesting tale about you at the Sunset Palace,” said Timon.

Zo smiled blandly at him. “Oh yes?”

“Is it true you used to be a prince?”

“I didn’t stop being one. It isn’t an elected office.”

“Hm. Not much of a prince, though, are you? Not a real prince.”

“Oh, absolutely not, no. May I pour you some wine?” He picked up the wine pot, holding his sleeve delicately. “My homeland has been a vassal state of Zash for a century. We are proud of our lineage, but we have no real power.”

Timon slurped his wine. He had an unnecessarily noisy way of drinking that irritated Zo. It was one of those things that would have been innocuous, could even have become endearing, if the man himself had been likeable. Instead it seemed almost sinister.

“What would your father the king think if he knew his royal son was whoring out his sweet ass to foreign cocks?”

Zo stared at him, for a moment too startled to respond. He could not—must not—look around to see who else in the courtyard had heard that. Timon had spoken at a normal volume, and there were other guests nearby.

“Timon,” he said finally, “you and I have shared hours of pleasant conversation. I have entertained you, offered you attention, intimacy. We parted amicably. Why would you go out of your way to say something so hurtful to me?”

For a moment, gratifyingly, Timon was too wrong-footed to respond. Apparently sincerity was the last thing he had expected from Zo.

“You think we ‘parted amicably’?” Timon said petulantly. “You threw me over, you—you spat in my face as if you think you’re not just a whore. This isn’t Sasia, Your Highness.”

“You needn’t use any title, but the correct one, actually⁠—”

“I don’t give a shit!” He was still enough in control that he had not raised his voice to a disruptive volume, and though other people around them might be hearing this, no one felt it necessary to intervene. “You tried to throw me over, and you don’t get to do that. This isn’t Sasia. You’re not a prince here. Your tea house is falling down around your ears, and you think you can still choose who you say yes or no to?”

Zo was rattled, and he hated himself for it. He had felt safe for so long in his refuge at the Red Balconies that he had forgotten what it was like to be threatened, and this was a new kind of threat, overt and ugly.

“If you imagine I am friendless and desperate, you are very much mistaken.” That was true, so why did the words sound hollow to Zo when he said them?

Cheerful raised voices from the other side of the courtyard drew Zo’s attention, and he looked up to see that Hylas had just returned. The lamplight glowed in his hair, and surely he looked taller and more handsome than the last time Zo had seen him? Maybe it was just the way that he was smiling, so much at ease and at home in the Red Balconies courtyard. He waved at Zo.

And then he headed for the passage to their rooms. He was not staying.

“If I tell your mistress I’m ready to become your patron,” Timon said, “there’ll be nothing you can do about it. You’ll be mine, Your Highness.”

“That is not how it works,” Zo said between clenched teeth.