It was a shrewd decision, exactly the kind of thinking a king should possess. But he'd stupidly thought it was simply because Shafiq enjoyed his performance that much. No reason it couldn't be both, but…
Well, it didn't matter. Attention was attention, and the money would be ridiculously good, and if he could help Shafiq, repay his kindness, by putting his nobles in a better mood, he would do it.
"This one, I think," he said, touching the skirt. "It's beautiful, and seems suited to the circumstance. It will also best display the necklace."
"Shrewd as I would expect of you. Get to practicing, pretty bird. I'll see this is ready and waiting in your room."
Jankin smiled. "I owe you much, Mistress. What can I do to show my appreciation?"
She patted his cheek. "You are a sweet one, but I am only doing my job, I promise." She laughed. "Tell His Majesty how good I am at it, if you're inclined. A good word in royal ears is never a bad thing."
"Of course." He obediently went as she shooed him away and headed to his allocated section of the hall to practice the routines he would be doing that night. Five routines in total was the request, but three of them would actually be one long routine he'd break into three pieces. He'd done it before, and it always worked well, the routine flexible in that way. He'd go slightly easier on himself for the fourth round, and the final routine would be the most complicated, because one should always end on a flourish.
After he was confident in the whole routine, he headed off to bathe, eat, and then went for a short walk around the palace before lying down for a short nap. When a servant woke him as requested a couple of hours later, the necklace and his new skirt were laid out on the table for him.
He started with his hair, weaving small braids here and there, scattered across the whole mass, threading them with small jewels that were a genuine pain in the ass to work with but had a payoff more than worth it. His skin was rubbed with a lotion that would leave a faint shimmer, and then he added small hoops to his ears and gold anklets to both ankles.
Only then did he pull on the skirt. It was truly beautiful, soft and wispy where it brushed his legs. For the best he was borrowing it, not keeping it, because he had always traveled light.
Going over to the table, he opened the jewelry case and removed the necklace. Unlocking the hinge, he settled the necklace in place, locked the hinge, and took a last deep breath before leaving.
He headed first for the training hall, where he knew he could find a mirror to make absolutely certain all was well. Dali was still there, speaking with a group of women, all of whom stopped talking when they saw him.
Dali walked over to him. "Look at you, Peacock. Living up to your reputation for certain. You'll be the favorite part of dinner. Even His Majesty won't be able to focus."
Jankin laughed. "Delightful as that sounds, I hope it's not true, because I'm sure he means to accomplish certain things at this dinner, and I'd hate to ruin his plans."
"I think he would forgive you," said another woman with a tittering laugh. "I would."
"You're too kind," Jankin said.
"Need eye makeup, though," said another woman.
"I've always been terrible at it," Jankin replied. "No matter how much I practice, I have no hand for it, even though, in theory, I should."
That seemed to be all the permission the women needed to do the work themselves, painting his eyes as beautifully as they had the night of the banquet, though this time it was in simple black overlaid with translucent, shimmery powder.
"Thank you, I'm grateful. I really only came for a mirror."
"You look perfect, Peacock," Dali said. "As you well know."
He grinned and winked. "Doesn't mean I don't like hearing it. I owe you all."
"Better get going," one of the women who'd done his makeup said. "Wouldn't want to be late."
Jankin bowed, murmured one last thank you, and departed, winding the wrap he'd brought along around his shoulders to ward off the chill that always fell once it grew dark. Were the concubines allowed to do such things? Or were they expected to go about bare-chested no matter the temperature?Or maybe they were used to it going from incredibly hot to ridiculously cold, and it didn't bother them. Certainly he'd seen people living in frozen climates walk about in short sleeves while it was snowing.
His escort led him to a section of the palace that was very clearly reserved for the royal families. They weren't like, grossly opulent or anything, but there were more flowers, more guards, and everything here seemed a bit quieter, softer, than elsewhere.
Guards were posted, blocking the open doors that would likely be closed and locked at some point, and Jankin said hesitantly, "I am here to perform at a private dinner?"
"Keep walking, it's the room with blue doors carved with birds. A servant will be waiting for you."
"Thank you. This place is quite overwhelming, I appreciate any and all assistance."
"We're always happy to help, Master Jankin."
They even knew his name, wow. Usually guards and such didn't bother, and why would they? There were much greater concerns on their minds.
