-Jaonah-

Sometime during our continued journey toward the Rilleaudin capital, Taegen grew tired of my silence. “Had I known that visiting the Flower Bed would make you even more dissatisfied, I would’ve let you alone,” he sighed from where he was seated across the carriage from me and Lorant, arms crossed, frowning at me deeply. “You found the company you desired. From the way you spoke of the evening, it sounds as though you have every reason to be pleased, yet it’s been a week and you’re still moping!”

“It’s only been three days,” I corrected without much fervor.

“With your incessant gloominess, it’s felt like a month,” Lorant answered, and I rolled my eyes at them both. One marked downside of our being so long-lived was a skewed perception of time, particularly in terms of memory, so it didn’t surprise me that neither of them saw it accurately.

“Forgive me for not boasting about my ‘conquests’ and looking forward to what sort we might find in Aurilême. I prefer to focus on the diplomatic business we’re here to conduct.”

My cousin let out a dry snort of laughter. “Heavens take you for a liar. We all know you left whatever focus you had with that Flower in Vallerie.”

As much as I would’ve liked to, I couldn’t honestly deny his claim. My mind had lingered consistently on Oleander ever since our departure from the Flower Bed—no, since the morning that I woke alone after having spent the night with him. It puzzled me that he hadn’t collected any fee, neither from my purse nor my person, especially when I had expressed my willingness to pay whatever he might ask. Instead, he’d simply disappeared, leaving behind his mask and his scent on the sheets.

The reasonable part of me knew well that there was no sense in pining after a prostitute, a man whose very profession was to seduce and entrance willing fools like myself. Nothing real would ever come of it. It was little exaggeration to say that we came from two different worlds, and hoping for some miracle to bring us back together was sure to end in nothing but disappointment.

Yet a more persistent, sentimental part of me couldn’t seem to escape the thought of his breath in my ear, his fingers in my hair, his eyes holding mine. I cursed myself for being so overwhelmed with desire that I didn’t take longer to speak with him. He must have viewed me as any other patron too distracted with his body to appreciate what else he had to offer. Or perhaps all I’d seen had been nothing but an act and he was truly bored with me the entire time. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask him.

“Your pointing it out and haranguing me for it is hardly helping me to move on from the experience,” I said plainly, keeping my gaze directed toward the window on my left and the surprisingly lush Rilleaudin countryside we were passing through. Everything in this kingdom was beautiful, it seemed. Even in the smaller towns we had come across, where the population was surely not as affluent as those living in Vallerie, the streets were pristine, the citizens well-dressed, the buildings finely made and maintained. Surely the entire country couldn’t be as well off as they appeared. Perhaps that was a curiosity we would see explained during our stay.

— — —

Dusk had just begun to fall as we made our way into the capital, and for the first time in days, my mind was too occupied with my surroundings to dwell on Oleander. Like everything else we’d seen in our visit thus far, Aurilême was a sight to behold. Most of the structures were formed of white stone, rooved with dark shingles and colorfully decorated with sheer awnings or paper lanterns. We passed through a bazar of sorts filled with milling citizens, glazed pottery that shone in the late sun, and mouthwatering scents of unfamiliar spices and sweetness.

“Come now, Captain,” Taegen said, observing the city just as eagerly as I was. “You can’t possibly be unimpressed by this. It truly does compare to home.”

“I don’t know that I would go that far,” Lorant answered, remaining patently bored and refusing to marvel as we were. Our carriage—the magic-driven sort common in the Empire but foreign elsewhere—must have drawn some attention, as many of the Rilleaudins around us stopped and stared as we passed by, whispering curiously amongst themselves.

“Did they know we were coming?” I wondered aloud, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. Royalty though we might be, our society favored functionality above all, and I’d learned from our visits to other human kingdoms that our standard of luxury was not quite the same as theirs. The Rilleaudins might look at our raiment—which was far less ornamental than their own—and deem us unworthy of their interest. “Perhaps we should change before seeing the king and queen? They may find us a bit…underwhelming.”

“Why, look who’s come out of his Flower-fog enough to contribute to our goals,” my cousin teased, and I shot him a glare. “That said, Their Majesties will surely have some idea what to expect; I understand they’re very well-informed, particularly for humans. If we go to too much trouble to impress them, we may end up doing the very opposite.”

I thought of what Oleander had told me about Rilleaud’s ‘Gardener’ and wondered whether he worked with the royal family. He must sell information to them if nothing else. Who better to do business with? Or perhaps he worked against them in some ways. Another mystery I was unlikely to solve on my own.

“Besides, who’s to say they’re worth the effort?” Lorant added, adjusting his sword at his side. Gesturing out the window toward the people we were passing on our way toward the palace, he went on, “We’ve no obligation to conform to their ostentatious aesthetics. Look at them. They can hardly walk in those slim skirts, and all those layers are hardly practical in this weather. Fashion-obsessed fools.”

“Not the worst fashion I’ve seen,” Taegen mused, clearly enjoying the view of the Rilleaudin women in their form-fitting silk dresses. He would surely find plenty of diversions for himself in the city while not busy with his diplomatic ventures. As hedonistic as my cousin could be at times, he did take his duty to the Empire seriously. He would do all he could to establish fruitful connections with Rilleaud’s leaders—and when he couldn’t, he would entertain himself with drink and women elsewhere. And I would remain in my rooms, writing, as per usual. Somehow, I was no longer interested in the prospect of finding company for only a night.

When we reached the palace, which was grander still than the city surrounding, we were greeted by two young men perhaps a few years younger than my 28. They both had sleek black hair and a mischievous look about them. In fact, they looked so alike that I could only assume they must be twins.

“Good evening, sirs,” one of them said with a deep bow. He was dressed in forest green, his hair pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. “And welcome to our humble capital.”

“Humble,” Lorant scoffed, and Taegen waved him off.

“Please forgive my friend’s rudeness; he can’t stand to be away from home for even a day, apparently. I’m beginning to think we should have left him there.” He shot a glance at our captain, then returned his attention to the twins. “To whom do we have the pleasure of speaking?”

“No one of importance, my lord,” the other twin said, his lips curving into a slight smirk. His dark hair was cropped short, his ensemble in cool shades of brown. “The king is expecting you. Would you like us to see to your carriage to avoid any further delay?”

Lorant let out a snort of amusement. “Unless there’s magic in you that I can’t sense, you’ll have a hard time of it.”

Evidently fed up with his naysaying, Taegen flicked one hand at the carriage, his straits flashing orange as he restored its power. Taking a step back, he gestured to the carriage and told the twins, “Be my guest.”

“What are you doing?” Lorant hissed, though his protests fell on deaf ears.

“The steering should be fairly intuitive,” my cousin went on as the twins hastened into the carriage, grinning. “I’ve given you half an hour’s worth of fuel. That should be plenty of time to see it safely stored, yes?”

“Of course,” the one in brown responded; it seemed his brother was too giddy to speak. “Leave it to us, my lord.”

“Fair enough.” Taegen started inside, leaving Lorant and me no choice but to follow.

“That was a bit reckless,” I noted, trying my best not to take either side in this childish conflict.

“A bit reckless?” the guard captain repeated, incredulous. “It was insanity! They’ll destroy it within ten minutes’ time, mark my words.”

“You ought to be more polite when addressing those you meet in the palace, my friend,” Taegen answered, unperturbed. “You never know when you might be speaking to royalty.”

“What, them?” Lorant asked, now seeming less sure of himself.

“I’m told the Rodin family features a pair of twins roughly that age. And if they were princes, your attitude was hardly fitting of your station.”

He didn’t respond, either frustrated or embarrassed; it was one thing to be snide to a servant, but quite another to offend royalty—especially royalty who happened to be hosting us at the moment. I tried to commit the twins’ faces to memory in the likely case we should come across them again. A pity we didn’t get their names.