“You’re right,” Justen said to Noemi at last. “Maybe I should rest.” Someplace far from where the Wild Poppy might find him before he had a chance to redeem himself by figuring out a solution to the problem he’d caused. Someplace like Scintillans. “Do you know if Persis is still here? Or did she get bored and leave last night?”
Noemi smiled. “She’s been entertaining the children with that weasel of hers.”
Well, if there was anything that might distract from the specter of permanent brain damage, it was Slipstream. He set off to track down the girl and her sea mink, and followed the sound of laughter and splashes into an underground bathing chamber.
Carved from the same rock as the rest of the facility, the baths were lit by submerged lights in various shades that color coded each pool’s temperature—a blue glow in the cold bath, a soft amber in the tepid one, and a fiery red for the hottest. The air was filled with clouds of steam and the voices of children, and Justen smiled, remembering his last visit to the public baths in Halahou. They’d been closed ever since the death of Queen Gala, when a riot had broken out that resulted in the drowning of several aristos sympathetic to the crown. Citizen Aldred had deemed them too dangerous in this period of unrest. It wasn’t such a loss if you had a private geothermal pool in your home, as they’d had, living in the royal palace, but now Justen wondered exactly how many Galatean citizens had been deprived of the baths.
So many things he hadn’t questioned when he should have.
As he walked farther into the baths, the din of the children’s voices settled into coherency.
“Make him do it again!”
“Me next! Me next!”
Before him, the curtain of steam dissipated to reveal Persis seated on the ledge of one of the tepid pools, her skin and yellow dress shimmering like gold in the amber-tinted light. Around her stood a half dozen refugee children, squealing with delight at the antics of Slipstream, who was flipping into the water and performing marine acrobatics in return for the morsels of food the children tossed to him.
Justen smiled despite his exhaustion. “Surrounded by a crowd of admirers, as usual, Persis.”
She looked in his direction and beckoned wearily through the steam. “Citizen Helo,” she said. “At last you emerge from your lab. Discover anything interesting?”
“We have a few leads,” he replied. He took a seat beside her. “Have you been here all night?”
“I slept.” She looked like it. Her golden-brown skin glistened with vitality and maybe the steam as well. Justen found himself mesmerized by the sheen of moisture along her collarbone, in the hollow of her throat, cresting her jaw and the top of her lips.
He dragged his gaze away and yawned. He must be more exhausted than he realized. “I’ve been instructed to do the same.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable here? Noemi would be more than happy to find you a bed.” Slipstream finished his latest circuit and returned to his mistress for more food.
“If it’s all right by you, I think I’ll go back to Scintillans. It’ll give me a break. A chance to clear my head.” A chance, but not a large one. His dreams would probably be haunted by the faces of his victims wherever he slept.
Persis ran her hands through Slippy’s wet fur and touched the creature’s nose with her own. “I suppose spending any length of time around the people whose lives your guardian destroyed is terribly exhausting.” She didn’t know the half of it. “I can’t imagine how you manage.”
He wasn’t entirely sure about that. Persis could be—well, if not serious, at least caring—when the situation warranted. She clearly took care of her mother, and here she was, distracting the children from their troubles with her silly pet. “It’s my job. As a medic, I’m trained not to get emotional about my patients but to concentrate on their diseases and the science.”
“You’re excellently trained,” she responded, and sent Slipstream out on another quest, to the delight of the children. “How beneficial it must be to be able to stay so detached and clinical when there’s so much suffering around you.”
That was a far more pointed comment than he’d expected from her. “Believe me, I’m very affected by what I learned today. But what good will my getting emotional do for these people? Nothing. I can’t fix anything by getting angry. I have to act.”
She gave him a look that cut right through the steam. Her lips parted and for a moment, he thought she was going to say something. He leaned in, and she seemed to shake herself free of the notion. Instead, she gave him her usual carefree smile. It must be a trick of the steam that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She rose and snapped her fingers once. Slipstream glided to her side. “I’m so sorry, but Slippy and I have to go now,” she said to the children. A wave of whines and pleas for “just five more minutes” rose up from the assembled crowd. “I promise we’ll come back soon and you can play some more. There’s nothing Slipstream likes better than doing tricks for treats.”
“Are you serious?” he asked. “You’re going to make room in your crowded social schedule to entertain a few refugee children?”
“Why, Justen Helo, I’m surprised at you. Do you really think I’d pass up the chance to share with these impressionable young newcomers to Albion the importance of proper hair color techniques?”
PERSIS TOOK THEM BACK to Scintillans via a land route, skimming inches over the lush green landscape of the western peninsula at speeds that would have kept Justen awake even if they hadn’t been sitting in an open-air cab.
“Do you always drive like this?” he asked, squinting at her through the afternoon sunlight.
She slowed down a fraction, and the fans lowered to a dull roar. “Are you always such a stick-in-the-mud?”
He chuckled. “By your measurement, I think the answer to that is definitely yes. For instance, did you know I own only three pairs of pants?”
She cast him a horrified glance. “Please don’t tell anyone else that. It’s embarrassing enough to be in your company.” She flicked on her palmport. “I’m making a note to get you an appointment with my tailor as soon as possible.”
At that, he sobered. “Don’t be too hasty. I’m likely to be spending a lot of time at the lab.”
“Darling,” Persis scoffed, “my tailor comes to you.”
When they got back to Scintillans, Persis hopped out of the skimmer and skipped up the terrace. Fredan, the butler Justen had met his first morning, stopped them both in the front room. “Lady Blake, your parents have retired early today, but I can prepare you and Citizen Helo supper on the back terrace.”
“How about the lawn beyond my room?” Persis asked. “The sunset is so lovely from that side of the house.”
Fredan cleared his throat. “Lord Blake wished for me to remind you that Citizen Helo’s room is at the other end of the house.”
Justen’s jaw dropped, but Persis laughed. “He’s teasing me,” she explained. “Papa’s not going to let me get away with hosting you here without a little needling.” She waved Fredan off and the older man shrugged and retreated.
“We should tell them,” Justen said, “about the princess’s plan.”
“Not a chance,” she said. “There’s a reason my father’s sticking to joking warnings rather than setting up a guard around the perimeter of my room. I think there’s nothing my parents would like more than if you really did fall head over heels in love with their daughter.” But her own tone was mocking, and Justen was relieved. They were on the same page, then. “So act devoted, if you please.”