“That does make sense,” Shasol sighed, “Well, not that it would make much difference, with Abby the way he is…”

“It would matter to me,” Nie huffed, “I have no plans to stop working, and a breach like that could get me dismissed from the Guild.”

“Mn,” Abuin nodded.

“You are marrying a grand duke but still plan to work…?” Shasol shrugged, “Well, do as you please, but you will likely have less time for it. As you will be expected to accompany Abby to the events he cannot excuse himself from, after all…”

“Oh, right,” Nie said, then asked, “You were not planning to carry me about like this in public, were you?”

Abuin whined, ears flattening.

As expected, Nie thought.

Shasol scoffed, “We have been over this, Abby. ‘Tis not appropriate to hang off people in public, even if they give you permission to do so in private.”

“After the wedding t’would probably be fine, but definitely not when we are but engaged,” Nie agreed.

“Mn,” Abuin nodded again.

“No…” Shasol stared in disbelief, “It definitely would not be fine after, either…”

“Why not?” Nie asked, “Everyone desires I marry His Grace because I keep him calm, yes? This seems like a more efficient way to do that, and I doubt other court members would say anything. Besides, standing for long periods of time is tiring.”

“... You really are surprisingly well-matched,” Shasol drawled.

“What does that mean?” Nie asked.

“Abuin,” the Grand Duke said before his valet could answer.

“Hm?” the human asked.

“Not ‘Your Grace,’” Abuin added, “Abuin. Or Abby.”

“We are still only betrothed, you know,” Nie replied, “Technically, my rank is still too low to address you by your name without a more established connection.”

The Grand Duke grumbled, then said, “My lord.”

“I understand, I shall call you Abuin,” Nie replied immediately.

“Mn,” Abuin said in satisfaction.

“... You understood that?” Shasol asked, suspicion evident.

“’Tis more appropriate for me to call him by his name than for him to address me by title, is it not?” the human asked.

“No—I mean, yes, but,” Shasol looked to the side, “you understood that was his intent…?”

“It was rather obvious,” Nie said, arching a brow.

It was Shasol’s turn to grumble, then he sighed and shrugged, “Well, anyone could comprehend once or twice…”

Nie supposed the grand duke was fairly inscrutable most of the time—he just had not thought this was one of those times. Sighing, he asked, “Has word been sent to the prior grand duke?”

“No, but he is expected back in a fortnight anyway,” Shasol waved a hand, “So word would not reach him any sooner than that. I daresay you have nothing to worry about. He shall be just as surprised as anyone that Abby found someone to marry him that is not me.”

“Mn,” Abuin added noncommittally.

“Oh, I suppose ‘tis best to tell you,” Shasol sighed, “Abby and I have had sex, but we are not lovers.”

“He would need to find a secondary spouse at least at some point,” Nie shrugged and found himself idly finger-combing his betrothed’s hair, since it was under his hand and all, “Even sevadah, I cannot carry a savbahn child.”

“You as well?” Shasol snorted, “That is one less explanation for me to give, then.”

Abuin made a grumble of approval at the hair combing, punctuated by him reaching up and moving Nie’s hand up to one of his ears.

Nie obliged him, of course, knowing the best way to rub a savbahn’s ears to help them relax. Particularly one that had been his client for such an extended period.

Abuin grumbled in approval again, shifting his hold on Nie to give the human better access.

“You already paint such a domestic picture,” Shasol snorted, watching them with an amused expression, “T’will be easy enough for the court to invent rumors of your grand romance, though everyone will know they are fake.”

Which was the common practice among Rabahni nobility, of course, crafting careful narratives of romance to smooth over the political aspects of a marriage. The problem with explaining how this marriage had come about to the Grand Princess had never been that any Rabahni noble was ignorant of such machinations as status and wealth, only that it was grossly impolite to admit to them so openly.

Nie rolled his eyes, then asked, “Is this what you meant by my hands?”

“Mn,” Abuin nodded, “No pads.”

Nie looked at one of his hands, trying to grasp his meaning, then nodded, “Ah, right. Sensitive to texture?”

Abuin nodded gently to keep from pulling his ear out of his betrothed’s grasp.

Savbahn had rough pads on their palms—one roughly L-shaped pad that covered the arch beneath their fingers down towards the wrist and then a second on the meaty bit under their thumbs. They also had pads on each fingertip. While most savbahn massagists wore gloves, someone with acute senses like Abuin could likely still feel the difference.

There is one mystery solved, Nie thought, then sighed, “I suppose I had better return to the estate. Gahne and Grandfather will worry otherwise.”

He felt at least a little more ready to explain the situation to them and any… confused well-wishers he might find at home.

Abuin whined, leaning his head into Nie’s chest.

“You will have plenty of time to monopolize Nie’s time in the coming weeks,” Shasol rolled his eyes, “And if you go with him, it will be more awkward for everyone.”

Abuin huffed, then relented and set his betrothed down.

Nie hesitated a moment, then sighed, “Sit down for a moment.”

Abuin tilted his head but pulled over his chair all the same to take a seat.

His betrothed walked behind him, then walked back around the desk to retrieve an ottoman. Standing upon it, Nie started kneading the muscles of the Grand Duke’s shoulders, unsurprised at the stiffness there. He sighed, “You were not able to find a replacement?”

“Of course not,” Shasol snorted, still appearing amused, “Especially not within a month.”

Nie could hardly argue with that, listening to Abuin’s breathing as he did his best to mitigate most of the tension. The few times he had thought of the duke after his dismissal, it had been with professional concern. Abuin was always so tense despite weekly sessions. What would be the result of a month without any?

Abuin practically melted under his ministrations, leaning his weight back into the chair but carefully keeping his head forward, for which Nie was grateful. Avoiding getting an eye stabbed out by a horn made it very difficult to focus on his work.

“This is actually fascinating to watch,” Shasol commented, “Abby sitting still, that is.”

Abuin huffed.

“Oh, you know I don’t mean anything by it,” Shasol snorted, “I’m simply unaccustomed to seeing it.”

“How long have you been his gr—,” Nie sighed and rolled his eyes, “Abuin’s valet?”

The Grand Duke made a noise of approval.

“Well, we have been friends since we were children,” Shasol replied, “Since my mother and Abby’s father were always close friends. She married down, from duchess to greater marquess.”

Two ranks down was not much of a gap and not entirely unheard of, depending on how many older siblings Shasol’s mother had.

“So when he came of age at twenty, it just seemed the natural thing to do,” Shasol went on with a shrug, “I am two years his senior, you know.”

“I was not aware,” Nie replied, “I do not follow the upper court.”

“Do you even follow the lower court?” Shasol chuckled.

The human found himself smiling at the banter, “No, and I believe they prefer it that way.”

Abuin hummed, “Club?”

“Yes?” Nie asked, not sure what his betrothed meant by bringing it up.

Abuin huffed, “No club gossip?”

“Ah,” the human said, “Some, but nothing that the entire court would not know.”

“What club are you in, again?” Shasol asked, “I looked into it when you were hired, but I don't recall having any concerns about it.”

“Rabahni Miniature Aquatics Consortium,” Abuin rumbled on his betrothed’s behalf, then added, “I want to see the little fish.”

Nie paused in his work, surprised at both the grand duke offering an entire sentence and at him having actually remembered which club it was.

“Little fish?” Shasol asked, blinking a few times.

“Yes,” Nie said, shaking his head and returning to the massage, “We make small ponds inside pots for little fish. I suppose… it is traditional for the requester to visit, if you really wish to see them.”

Abuin’s tail hit the human’s legs as it wagged.

“That is your prerogative, I suppose,” Shasol said, then seemed to consider before asking, “And why is it that you make these…?”

“Pot ponds,” Nie replied, sighing, “No real reason—at least, no more than flower arrangement or a poetry circle.”

“Fair enough,” Shasol said, “My mother met my father at a poetry circle, as it happens. He won her over with, as she put it, ‘the worst performed sonnet she ever had the displeasure of hearing.’”

Nie snorted. Ah, so Shasol’s mother had likely married down for love.

Rabahni nobles loved social events. Young nobles often flit between different clubs and secret (or not-so-secret) societies that essentially functioned as clubs, looking for a hobby or at least a group of people they enjoyed the company of. Older nobles, however, tended to settle into only one or two clubs, really developing their favorite hobbies or deepening friendships with a smaller group.

While upper court and lower court clubs tended to be separated, less popular hobbies could see combined rank clubs, like Nie’s own RMAC was. There could also be multiple clubs for the same hobby to keep any from growing too large. As far as he knew, his was the only miniature aquatics club in the Remehni court. Which did not rule out a secret society, but Nie doubted one existed.

As Abuin had noted earlier, clubs could also be hubs for court gossip, though it usually depended on the members. The RMAC was usually too busy arguing over which substrate was best for lining the bottom of a pot and which plants were best for providing shade and cover to bother.

“There,” Nie said, stepping down from the ottoman, “That should keep for now.”

“Mn,” Abuin stretched, bracing his hands on the desk and arching his back off the chair.

Nie collected the ottoman once more, intending to return it to its place.

He was waylaid by his betrothed tugging him around the waist, pulling the human against his side to rub his cheek against Nie’s face again.

“Thank you,” he said, seeming content to remain that way.

Nie once more allowed the cuddling for a few moments, then carefully pulled away, and could not help but ask, “Is… this why you always sent me off before leaving the table?”

Abuin nodded, getting to his feet with a good, contented full-body shake.

Shasol sighed, rising with a stretch of his own, “You shall truly make it easy for the court to paint this as love at first sight - I can already hear the bad sonnets.”

“Could they not at least be good sonnets?” Nie sighed, replacing the furniture. He supposed it really was time for him to return home—with his betrothed in tow, as he had offered.

“Good sonnets only come after bad sonnets,” Shasol snorted, “Unless you are my father - he’s been kicked out of six poetry circles.”

“Oh,” Nie said, “So when your mother claimed it was the worst…”

“She was being very serious,” Shasol shrugged.

I am learning much about Shasol through all of this, Nie thought wryly, and so asked, “What of your parents, Abuin?”

His betrothed seemed surprised by the question, pulling on a coat that had been draped over the couch, “You do not know?”

Shasol also seemed surprised, arching a brow.

Nie searched his memory for what they could be expecting him to know, but shook his head as he came up empty. He pursed his lips, “I take it there is a well-known story?”

“The previous grand duke never married,” Shasol replied, “He bore Abby and never revealed who the other parent was. Most suspect… well…”

“Dasahn,” Abuin’s ears flicked, “The Divine.”

Well. That might explain why the Grand Princess would have a more vested than usual interest in Abuin’s well-being, as it would make him her nephew and all. It would have been scandalous enough for someone in such a high position to bear a child out of wedlock, but for that child to be one of the Six’s? It was no wonder the former Grand Duke spent so much time abroad, even after leaving his ambassadorial role.

“Oh,” Nie said and shifted his weight awkwardly, “I see why you would be surprised I had not heard of it.”

“Well,” Shasol sighed, “you were adopted by the Wahnera household when Abby was already,” he paused, doing the figures in his head, “Sixteen, and while we were abroad with his father, so most of the fuss would have died down.”

“You were abroad as well?” Nie asked, latching onto any safer subject than his betrothed’s parentage.

“Yes,” Shasol obliged in relief, leading the way out of the study, “Abby’s father first left when he was five, and his aunt brought him up here in Remeh. And when his father invited him to go live together in Eisbane at fifteen, I went as well. To broaden my horizons, you know?”

Nie nodded, doing his best not to hurry too obviously.

“I missed my debut ball, so I ended up debuting late at Abby’s when we returned,” Shasol went on.

“You can ask,” Abuin interrupted from behind them, “I do not mind.”