"I haven't."
"It is the simplest of dice games." Lord Eli raised his voice. "I have hidden a surprise in the dessert that will dictate your companions for the evening. Chew carefully."
Achan took a bite of berries; the sweetness distracted him from his surroundings entirely. He'd never tasted anything so wonderful. It was even better than Poril's ginger cake. He inhaled the dish until his teeth bit down on something hard and cold. He spit a plain gold ring into his fingers.
Lady Katiolakan shrieked and clapped her hands from the end of the table. "How wonderful this is being."
Lord Eli beamed. "Ah! His Highness found the gold band. How fitting. The gods are playing matchmaker, I suspect."
Achan turned to see Jaira licking the cream off an identical gold ring. He frowned at Sparrow.
The boy shrugged. You are being positioned. First the matching ensembles, now matching rings. Do you like your intended?
Achan's lips parted. How could he have missed the coordinating colors of their clothes? Well, you match us as well, Sparrow. What say we trade? I'll be squire.
Oh no, I shall not interfere with your special time with the princess.
Jaira's dog lapped the remaining cream from Achan's bowl. Achan stifled a growl. Is there any poison on the table?
For you or the dog?
Both.
10
The sitting room, like the dining room, was long and narrow. A fire crackled in an ornate marble fireplace that filled the back wall, heating the room to a sweltering state. Two small, square tables, each seating four, sat in the middle of the room. Fat candles burned in bronze sconces along the walls. A narrow door, likely for servants, was wedged beside the fireplace and the far corner.
Sparrow stood with Sir Caleb by the entrance. Mandzee and her mother sat at the table closer to the door with the pontiff and Seer Rheala. Sir Gavin and Inko never came in. It appeared they wouldn't be playing.
Lord Eli waved Achan and Jaira to sit with him and his wife at the table by the fireplace.
Achan tensed and glanced at Sir Caleb. Must I?
Sparrow looked away, fighting a smile.
Sir Caleb raised his brows. The longer you stand gaping, the ruder you become. Whether Jaira is the love of your heart or Gazar's spawn, Lord Eli is host and you have drawn matching tokens. Now, offer your arm before you garner the name Graceless Gidon.
Esek has given the name Gidon enough shame. I doubt I could make things worse.
Take. Her. Arm. Go, Sir Caleb said. Be charming and witty. Play games. Enjoy yourself, if you can. And if you cannot, pretend, for the sake of your father.
You aren't playing?
Our time would be better spent gathering supplies.
Achan set his jaw. But I want to help.
You are helping, Your Highness. You make our host happy by letting him entertain you. When the host is happy, he shares horses and supplies. Be a charming fellow, now.
Achan stared at the sconce behind Jaira as he spoke, unable to stomach eye contact. "If you're willing, my lady?"
Jaira accepted his arm, nose in the air. "It would be my pleasure."
Sure it would. Achan steered her to the table beside the fire. Her hatred flowed into him, adding to his foul mood. Her spicy smell turned his overfull stomach.
Sir Caleb, if she hates me so much, why does she pretend?
It's likely her mother's wish. Play along. We'll be halfway to Melas before she's eaten her breakfast tomorrow. Should you need us, call. Vrell will be our eyes.
Achan stifled a groan and sat down opposite Jaira.
Larkos, Jaira's eunuch, stood against the wall, two paces to Jaira's right. Achan shot a quick peek at Sparrow, the boy who could barely hold a sword. So, if anything should go amiss, it was the scrawny boy against the muscle-bound eunuch. This didn't ease Achan's discomfort. He'd left Eagan's Elk in his chamber.
Lord Eli slapped a set of ivory dice on the table. "We each roll once, then pass the dice. The first team to reach exactly one hundred wins. You go first, Your Highness."
Achan rolled the dice. A six and a four. "Ten."
"Well done." Lord Eli nodded to his wife, who had parchment and quill. She scratched out ten hash marks.
The game went on. Achan and Jaira quickly made it to a score of ninety-seven, but they were unable to roll a three. Lord Eli and his wife took what felt like an eternity to reach eighty-eight. Then Lady Katiolakan rolled two sixes.
She giggled and threw up her hands. "What shocking a surprise that was being."
Lord Eli squeezed Achan's shoulder. "So close, Your Highness. I thought you'd beaten us for sure. Shall we play again?"
Achan shrugged. "If you like."
And so they played.
Queen Hamartano and Mandzee soon excused themselves for the evening, taking Jaira's bat-dog with them. The pontiff and Seer Rheala watched a few of Lord Eli and Achan's games, then they too retired. Achan hoped this was a sign he'd soon be excused to that massive featherbed he couldn't wait to try.
But Lord Eli ordered more wine and drank through two bottles himself. Achan slowly sipped one goblet. He'd never been permitted wine before but had seen what it could do to a man. Achan wasn't about to risk his sanity with this company, even for the pleasant tingle the drink left between his ears.
Lord Eli's behavior only solidified Achan's discretion. Before long, the young lord could barely keep his dice on the table when he rolled. When one struck Jaira's ear, Lady Katiolakan stood.
"I am begging your forgiveness, Princess. My husband has been having too much wine. I am fearing only his bed will be the cure. Please, be staying and enjoying yourselves as long as you are liking. I am bidding you all good sleep." She gripped Lord Eli's arm. "Septon, my love, it is being time to go."
Achan stood and helped Lord Eli to his feet.
He jerked away. "I can stand myself." He stumbled through the dining room doors.
"I am thanking you, Your Highness." Lady Katiolakan curtsied. "I am praying we will be seeing you at breakfast tomorrow, and then, perhaps, to the temple?"
"Perhaps." Achan didn't want to make any promises. "Good night, my lady."
She curtsied and scurried into the dining room. Her voice carried. "My lord! Oh, Septon, you are being hungry? But we are being finished with dinner, my lord. Let us be going upstairs and be finding your slippers and pipe."
Achan stood awkwardly and listened to the sounds of their hosts' footsteps receding. Relieved, he turned to Jaira, ready to make his excuse to depart.
Jaira laid her gloved hand on Achan's forearm. "You should visit Jaelport, Your Highness. You have never smelled anything like Market Street. The spices alone intoxicate the senses." Her eyes widened. "I can show you. Look."
She removed a small purple pouch from the reticule at her waist. She opened it, her lips curved in a coy smile, and she beckoned with one finger for Achan to lean closer. "You must smell this. I promise you, it will not disappoint."
Sparrow stood by the door, looking half dead. Achan could indulge Jaira a moment longer. He bent over the pouch and inhaled. A sweetness he couldn't place filled his nostrils. Much more pleasant than what drenched Jaira's skin. It filled his head with an indescribable joy. He breathed in more and shuddered. Enchanting. Again he took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to live in the pouch, to roll in the scent.