Why did it feel like either he or the rest of the palace had lost their minds?Whatever, the tea was here, so he wouldn't waste it.
And if he occasionally looked up to see if maybe Prince Bakhtiar might be passing through, thankfully no one else did either to catch him at it.
*~*~*
The frog book somehow proved so popular that he was privately commissioned by five of Lady Hedieh's friends to make them copies.Thankfully, he had so many sketches of them that he had a veritable reference library, so all he really needed to do was recreate the drawings and then copy so much text it felt as though his hand might fall off.
Normally he did not work late, or at least, only by a little bit.Havarin firmly believed that only the wealthy were allowed to relax, and everyone else should work as often as possible.Here, no such expectation existed, and anyone who tried to encourage overwork was looked at askance.It was a luxury he was happy to enjoy.
This week, though, with so much writing to do, he had worked a few hours late each night, hoarding extra servings of lunch to eat for dinner in the workshop over a quick break.Right now, stomach growling, he wished he'd held back a little more.Ah, well.He could have all he wanted at breakfast, another luxury he would always respect.
He tidied up the workroom, put out the lamps, and finally headed off.A yawn overtook him, cracking his jaw and watering his eyes.Though it was late for him, the banquet in the grand dining hall had not yet even started, though it would very soon.He knew very little about it all.That was a place for the true residents, the nobles and other wealthy who rented rooms and even entire suites in the palace, or staff of high enough rank, like the Steward or Master of the Treasury.
He could not begin to imagine what such a dinner must be like, with all the dancing and poetry reading and music always playing.Concubines serving wine to their respective royals and other guests, carrying conversations that Aaralyn would never be smart enough for, sometimes even performing…
Another strike against him, not that he was stupid enough to ever think, for a single moment, that he could… What would he do, stand in the middle of the room drawing people?Give a bookbinding demonstration?No, his skills were humble and uninteresting.Even if King Shahjahan had given the greatest possible compliment in the world to one of his drawings.
He yawned again, more tears watering his eyes—and oofed as he ran into someone."My apologies," he said hastily, backing up a step and rubbing the water from his eyes.Dropping his hands, he looked up—and went still, icy fear filling his veins.
The man looked down at him in that cold, imperious way every Havarin nobles possessed.All noble heirs to a title had their left cheek tattooed when they came of age at sixteen.When they took up the title, their right cheek received another tattoo.By his markings, this was the Duke of Novellius, which made him Lord Lucius Nigidius.As people to accidentally bother went, he could not have done much worse.
"Present your brand, boy."Because of course he would immediately know that Aaralyn was from Havarin and not Tritacia.Of course that would be his luck.
Keeping his gaze on the floor, and his trembling hands hidden in the folds of his robe, Aaralyn said quietly,"I am a citizen of Tavamara, your grace.My brand has no bearing here."
Novellius backhanded him, exactly as Aaralyn had anticipated he would, then grabbed his wrist in a painfully tight grip and yanked at Aaralyn's sleeve so hard he tore it, baring the mark that had been branded into his arm when he came of age at sixteen.By Havarin law, anyway.By his own people's laws, another thing Havarin had taken from them, children were not considered fully adult until they had reached their twenty-first year, the beginning of their third decade of life.
Aaralyn looked away, the brand curdling his stomach, a constant reminder of all that Havarin had taken from him, from his people, all he'd left behind so they could not take more.As long as he lived, he would remember the pain of someone pressing glowing hot iron to his skin, the way they laughed and mocked him and the other children, for that was what they'd been, called them weak and pathetic.
"A crocus boy,"Novellius said, then narrowed his eyes."Wait.There was word spread some time ago that a harem bitch from Resarn had run away, a pretty little thing with Tritacian-orange hair."He let go of Aaralyn's arm and wrapped his hand around his throat instead, squeezing not quite tight enough to choke him."Did not think to find you here.Your Margrave will pay me handsomely to have you returned."
Tears fell down Aaralyn's cheeks, but he replied,"I am a rightful citizen of Tavamara now.You have no power over me, your grace.Let me go."
"Uppity bitch."Novellius let go and lifted his hand for another strike—and bellowed in outrage as he was grabbed and thrown to the floor.
Aaralyn gasped and stepped back, looked up, finally registering the rest of the hallway.Several people were frozen in shock, but his attention was captured by the pair in the middle: King Shahjahan and Prince Bakhtiar.King Shahjahan had an arm out, as though holding Prince Bakhtiar back, and His Highness looked ready to kill Novellius with his bare hands.
Novellius, meanwhile, was pinned to the ground by a concubine with frankly ridiculous muscles, his back covered with a beautiful tattoo of the sun.At a sharp gesture from His Majesty, the concubine hauled the man to his feet and relinquished him to a pair of guards who came forward.
Shahjahan looked to a servant standing nearby holding an empty tray."I want the names of every single person in this hall, so I know who to punish later for standing by and doingnothingwhile a man was terrorized and abused."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Guards, nobody leaves this hall until their name is on the list, and if they try to sneak away or hide, make certain that is noted.Why did no guards come forward?"
"We were pulled away by a brawl down the green hall, Your Majesty," said a woman who seemed to be in charge of the guards present."I should have left a couple behind here, and apologize for that failure."
"I would like a report on that brawl as well," King Shahjahan replied, "so I might have a full image of what happened here tonight.Get witness accounts as well from all these cowards who did nothing.The very least they can do is relate honestly what happened, and see what happens to all of you if I catch you in a lie.Am I understood?"The hall resounded with a chorus of "Yes, Your Majesty."
King Shahjahan did not seem even slightly appeased by the obedience."Fetch me the Havarin ambassador and escort him to the peacock room," he said to another guard."If he tries to argue or take his time, drag him.Witcher, if you please."He turned sharply, taking Bakhtiar by the arm as he strode off, bending his head close to speak to him, so no one else could hear.What were they saying?Did Aaralyn really want to know?
The beautiful pale and golden concubine from the garden stepped forward and wrapped an arm around him, making several of the people in the hallways gasp.Aaralyn sensed touching him was a huge breach of etiquette, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.His face hurt, his throat hurt, even his stupid arm hurt where Novellius had gripped it so unnecessarily tight, and it was taking everything he had not to burst into tears.
Was this it?Was he going to be sent home to appease angry Havarin nobility?No, no.He was panicking.He was a Tavamaran citizen now.He had the papers to prove it.
But powerful people always found ways around those kinds of laws.Sending him back, keeping Havarin appeased, would probably be wiser.Easier, certainly.
"All will be well, Master Aaralyn," Lord Witcher said.What a strange name, but then again, he knew little of naming conventions in other countries, and Lord Witcher must come from one of the three countries north of Tavamara.
