“Are we really going to wear matching tunics?” Alex asks incredulously when Jack begins to unpack their formal clothes. “The bloody man hates the very thought of us being married as it is. Should we be antagonising him?”

“Yes, and yes,” says Jamie simply.

“The man will be insufferable!”

“Yes, but he’ll also be distracted and that will make it easier for us to get an agreement out of him. Better than killing him, isn’t it?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t make a habit of killing royalty. There has, as far as I’m aware, only been one and he really did deserve it.”

“True. Anyway, you can’t entirely claim responsibility for King Haran. He’d almost certainly have died on landing after I threw him away. Blowing him to bits was just for show.”

“I wish I’d been there to see it,” Jack muses quietly.

“No, you probably don’t,” Jamie tells him. “I knew what to expect and even I almost emptied my stomach. Several respected commanders, on both sides, were less fortunate.”

“And if Barras is as big of an ass as I expect tonight?” Alex asks as Jack helps him into the sleeves of the heavily embroidered turquoise tunic.

“No. Father said we had to negotiate, not bloody eliminate. We’re supposed to be setting a good example. If leaders across the continent could hear this conversation, we’d be seen as tyrants.”

“Jack, we can manage from here. Go and see if the carriage is ready. We don’t need to annoy King Barras any more than we will by our mere presence. Being late might just push him over the edge.”

Jack bows almost imperceptibly to the two of them and heads off through the building, leaving the two men to fasten the other’s buttons.

“I’ll allow a compromise, though,” Jamie tells Alex as he pulls him in close.

“Hmm… What sort of compromise?”

“If he says anything directly against the two of us, you can threaten him to whatever degree you feel is necessary, short of injuring or exploding him.”

“Fine. I’ll try and control my temper. I’ll never understand why he insists that these meetings have to be held during a party. Why can’t he just sit around a table in an office and talk like anyone else?”

“I wish I knew. Come on, let’s get it over with.”

The drive to the Palace is a short one and they are neither the first or the last to arrive. They do, however, seem to instantly be the centre of attention. Never able to decide whether Alex or Jamie should lead, they settle for holding hands as they walk up the broad curved staircase that leads to the main door of the palace.

Barras might not be quite as much of a wastrel as Haran of Benteria had been, but he seems to take far too much pleasure in the material for either Jamie or Alex to be comfortable. The palace is modern and extensive, having been built at great expense by Barras’s father, shortly before his early demise. Inside the main doors, the vast three-story entrance hall is flanked by two more decorative staircases and lit by a monstrous gilded chandelier. Garishly rich furnishings and ornamentation make what could be a magnificently monumental space feel almost nauseating.

Barras and his young wife are at the foot of the two staircases, welcoming the guests with a handshake and a smile. Barras’s smile drops to the floor when he sees Jamie and Alex holding hands so casually as they approach, but he rallies quickly enough to offer a polite greeting. “Welcome, your highness, my lord. How is the north?”

“Warm and sunny, Sire,” Jamie replies with a smile towards the King and a brief nod to the queen. She seems much more amenable and smiles back. She’s several years, at the very least, younger than Barras and, for wont of a better description, the victim of a political marriage.

“Please, enjoy our hospitality,” Barras manages smoothly. “We have much to discuss a little later on.”

 Alex says nothing, bowing to the Queen after shaking the King’s hand and leading Jamie on into the main hall where a considerable party is already in full swing. At least here, they will find people who they can talk to on an even footing. The guests are almost exclusively local, travel for all except Alex, being as difficult as ever. Barras, for all his personal failings does surround himself with nobles and staff of competence.

“Chancellor Callus, a very good evening to you,” Alex says in greeting as they approach a richly-dressed, somewhat overweight, middle-aged man who is for a brief moment alone in the centre of the vast room.

“Ah, you have made it then?” Callus asks as they greet one-another. “Not that I ever doubted that you would be here, but the King seemed less certain. I’m afraid he’s in a foul mood.”

A liveried server appears at Alex’s elbow with a tray of drinks as another appears next to Jamie with finger foods. “It would be easier for all of us if we could just have a conventional meeting,” Alex suggests. “All this pomp and show just increases the pressure on everyone.”

“Privately, I agree with you,” Callus suggests quietly. “The King has his ways and we need to follow his lead. Fortunately, I think we’ve already reached the edge of an agreement. The papers you gave us to study are more-or-less acceptable to both parties.”

“I can only apologise that, for such a simple-looking trade treaty, the details are so involved. No doubt you are still looking for some changes, though?” Alex asks.

“Indeed, but probably nothing that you haven’t already thought of and anticipated. The two of you have a knack of being ready for most demands in advance. Sadly, that’s one of the things that makes his Majesty annoyed. Please, pretend to think about whatever he proposes, at least?”

“Have no fear, my friend,” Alex tells him. “I have been ordered by my husband to be on my best behaviour. I am capable of more than mindless threats of violence to make my point, despite what this one may think.”

“I know, Alex. I know. I must mingle for a while. I’ll make sure that someone finds you both when the King is ready to chat. Hopefully, an hour or so will soften his mood.”

“I shall suffer until then, my friend,” Alex tells the chancellor before taking Jamie’s hand again and leading him off into the crowded rooms.

There are at least a couple of hundred guests, spread through the six huge reception rooms that make up the eastern wing of the palace. Each room is as garishly furnished and decorated as the last, assaulting the senses with colour, shape and style. Fortunately, the many doors onto the terrace are open and it is possible to escape the worst of the sound and light by stepping out.

Dressed almost identically, the couple make a striking pair, instantly recognised by even those among the guests who don’t know them personally and they are quickly the centre of attention. Every local noble understands who they are and why they are here – there’s no secret that the party is primarily for their meeting with Barras.

“You must be Lord Varga?” A tall and lean young man asks somewhat tentatively as he approaches the pair. “And Prince Jamethon, of course.”

“Indeed,” Alex replies with a smile. “I don’t believe that we have met?”

“No, I missed your last visit. We were on our honeymoon – that’s the word they use in the north, isn’t it?”

“It is. It seems to be gaining in popularity,” The young lady at the man’s side suggests. She is very pretty, not quite enough to be called beautiful like Jamie’s mother or sister-in-law, but seemingly bright and bubbly on first encounter.

“Where are my manners,” the young man mutters with a shake of his head. “My apologies, gentlemen. I’m Markus, the King’s nephew and this is my lady wife, Katrina.” There is a brief flurry of handshakes and smiles exchanged amidst the murmurs of welcome.

“The two of you are hard to miss,” Katrina tells them by way of explanation. “No other men would hold hands in this kingdom so openly.”

“You have a Meribor accent, Highness,” Alex suggests with a smile. “A relationship such as ours is no surprise to you?”

“Indeed not, Lord Varga. Here, however, it still seems like a difficult concept.”

“All things change in time,” Markus suggests. “Even here, it is the older generation who are so set in their ways. Their apparent disgust is far more for show that a matter of reality. Behind closed doors, life is the same across the world.”

“When we married, my husband made several vows, as you might expect,” Jamie tells them softly. “I only insisted on one being added. Wherever we go, and whoever we meet, we will not hide who we are.”

“Fortunately, we have the almost limitless power of our magic and the Flame of the West to back up our position,” Alex tells them with a grin.

“I have read a copy of Master Catheon’s journal,” Katrina tells them. “Your journey was not without incident. Sometimes it is easy for us, seeing you both here, finely dressed and cultured, to forget the hardships and the violence of your quest. The success of the quest possibly overshadows the journey itself.”

“I must confess,” Alex tells her with a conspiratorial look, “I struggle to act like a noble most of the time. Settling a disagreement with a fist or a sword was always much simpler than protracted negotiations.”

“Yet now, you wear no sword?”

“No, highness. There would always be a temptation there if I did so. My previous life was one of alertness and almost casual violence. It would be very difficult for anyone to hurt me now. Not impossible to be sure, but difficult. I hold to the fact that, no matter what the situation, I always tried to give the other man the choice.”

“You hold a very unusual position, Lord Varga,” Markus tells him. “Many of the young nobles practice the martial arts – the sword and the bow for the most part – but none of it is real. You have bridged that gap from the real world into this strange shadow-world that we seem to inhabit.”

“Please, I hate being called Lord Varga. Call me Alex.”

“With pleasure, Alex.”

“At least you recognise that your world, as with the ruling class in most places, is a little detached from real life. This will, I’m sure, serve you well in the future.”

“Well, I have to admit that I don’t look forward to the possibility of succeeding my uncle. Hopefully his marriage will bring us an heir soon enough.”

“Something that would surely moderate his temper,” Katrina whispers.

“Well, what he really needs is a few days on the beach in Fundis,” Jamie tells her. “That’s my number-one relaxation recommendation to anyone.”

“I have never been to the north,” Katrina tells him. “Is it true that it is warmer than the south?”

“Indeed it is. I’m afraid to say that I spend far too much time on the sand and in the sea. Alex has made a swimmer out of me.” Jamie looks to his husband with a raised eyebrow, receiving a slight nod and a gentle squeeze of his hand in agreement. “Perhaps the two of you would be our guests for a couple of days?”

“Really?” Katrina almost squeals in excitement.

“Well, unless you have more pressing matters to attend to here at home?” Jamie asks.

“Nothing that cannot wait for a few days,” Markus tells him. “When would you be able to accommodate us?”

“Well,” Alex suggests, “we are heading back tomorrow morning, with a brief stop in Tanis. If that’s too soon, I can simply come and get you whenever you like. Once we are done here tonight, we have a couple of weeks with nothing planned.”

“Markus?” Katrina asks with a smile that barely hides a giggle of continued excitement.

“I will tell the King later then,” Markus agrees. “If you are happy to allow us to come with you in the morning, then we will be happy to accept your hospitality.”

“Well, I shall go and prepare the way by finalising this trade treaty then,” Alex suggests as he spots the Chancellor looking out the door for him.

“I will stay and speak with Katrina,” Jamie tells him. “You and Markus should go and discuss business.”