None of this seemed like Shafiq. The furtive delivery, when he'd been so soft but public about the necklace. The flashy roses, the obscene number? Gold-flecked paper? Such a ridiculous, over the top dessert?
Shafiq was more likely to send a book of poetry, maybe with a personal note hidden in the pages.
The servant wasn't right either. He'd never entrust a token to someone who would behave that way, which hadn't bothered Jankin initially, but now seemed sorely out of place.
He still had a lot to learn about Tavamaran wines, but he was pretty certain this one was as out of character for Shafiq as everything else on the tray.
Was he overreacting?
No, he trusted his instincts, and they were screamingthis is wrong. Backing away from the tray, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. At the end, where it intersected with others, including a large hall that led to the public parts of the palace, he approached the guards. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm supposed to bother you, but a strange-acting servant delivered a tray to me that purports to be from His Majesty. I don't think it actually is, though, and I don't know what to do."
The guard's gaze sharpened in a way that made his stomach lurch, even though he knew he wasn't the one in trouble. "Show me."
He led the guard, and the two that followed him, to his room and motioned to the tray. The guard picked up the note,sneered, and turned to the other two. He jabbed a finger at the shorter one. "Take him to the west green room. You, remain here. Nobody goes in or out, nobody touches anything, or it's your head."
"Yes, Sergeant."
"I am going to summon the captain."
Before Jankin could ask any questions, he was whisked off to what proved to be a perfectly lovely sitting room.
And left there to wait, with only a pitcher of tepid water to keep him company.
The sun was just creeping up over the horizon when he was jolted from an unpleasant doze by the door not quite slamming open. "His Majesty requests your immediate presence."
Jankin rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess that means I can't make myself look less like a complete disaster first."
The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of the guard's mouth, but he only said in that calm, level tone all the guards seemed to have perfected, "I'm afraid immediate means immediate, Master Jankin. At least His Majesty is reasonable. When councilors says 'right now,' they mean 'five minutes ago, at least,' but you didn't hear that from me."
"Of course not," Jankin said with a laugh. "Lead the way then, Sergeant."
'The way' proved to be through sections of the palace he was pretty certain he wasn't important enough to be visiting. Heavy doors, more guards, and all with bands of colors on their sleeves the other palace guards didn't have. Decorations that put the rest of the luxurious palace to shame. Every now and then he caught glimpses of gardens that rivaled those he visited every day.
This was the royal wing of the palace, the private quarters of the royal family. Well, of Shafiq, as he had no family, notanymore. Not even cousins or whatnot, somehow, as Jankin understood it.
His heart stopped entirely when he was led directly up to a set of double doors that could only lead to one place. Shafiq's personal quarters. Had to be. Why?
The sergeant bowed and left, with a last wispy smile of reassurance.
One of the guards at the door, vastly more intimidating than the other guards, who were not to be scoffed at, pounded on the door. After a moment, hearing something that Jankin very much did not, he opened the door. "Enter, Master Jankin."
Having no choice in the matter, Jankin did so, and barely kept himself from jumping as the door closed soundly behind him.
"Thank you for coming, Master Jankin."
He turned, finally taking in the room itself. There was no antechamber, though something of an entryway, just a large room sectioned off by furniture and informal dividers like planters, drawn back curtains, and the like. The room smelled faintly of fresh flowers and cool water. At the very back of the room was an enormous bed shrouded by diaphanous curtains, and further beds were built into the nearby wall, cozy little nooks where someone could retreat if desired.
"Your Majesty," Jankin said. "I hope I did not cause a problem."
"Somebody caused problems, but it wasn't you," Shafiq said. He motioned to the table he was standing by. "Sit, please." When they'd both done so, he poured them both tea. A king pouring him tea. Jankin didn't know what to do with that. "What you did was save your own life. The food and the wine were poisoned, and you would not have survived even a single bite. Is the name Raffa familiar to you?"
"Another dancer, jealous and insecure, but I didn't think he loathed me to the point of murdering me."
"He and the cretin I tossed out of court found each other. We're still working on how, and while I fully believe Lord Asken knew you would die, I believe Raffa agreed to help because he thought it would simply make you too sick and weak to perform again anytime soon. There is a major holiday coming up, and performance spots for it are highly coveted."
"Well, wouldn't be the first time someone poisoned me to get me out of the way," Jankin said with a sigh.
Shafiq scowled. "I hope the guilty parties suffered for their actions."
