Too much, he'd talked too much, he always did when he was nervous or excited.
Instead of the expected reprimand, however, Lord Kurosh said, "What flower are you looking for?"
"Uh, I believe the Tavamaran name is False Honey Flower, though I don't know why it's called that as…" He pinched his mouth shut.Stupid.Be clear and brief.He'd been admonished on that a thousand times.
"This way," Lord Kurosh said, and only when he stopped several paces away and looked back in faint amusement did Aaralyn realize he was supposed to follow.
The stupid flower wasn't even far off.If he hadn't been interrupted, he'd have found it on his own."T-thank you, my lord."
Some sly amusement threaded through Lord Kurosh's voice as he said, "It's called False Honey because when slipped into food or drink, it leaves a faint honey-like taste, the only warning the victim gets before they fall over dead.It's most often used as a potent, fast acting poison.Good day to you, Master Aaralyn."
He left, bodyguards flanking him, and Aaralyn had to sit down and scrub at his hot cheeks.Another curse of his, to have bone-white skin that turned red at every possible opportunity, be he exerted or embarrassed or whatever.
Pulling out his sketchbook, he stared at the flower for a few minutes, then promptly ignored it in favor of capturing Lord Kurosh's beauty on paper as best he could.
Eventually, he drew the flower too, in all manner of ways so that it was captured from every angle in the book.As there were at least a hundred of the little things scattered about this section of the garden, he did not feel bad about stealing a couple, wrapping them in a kerchief and carefully stowing them in a pocket so he could dissect them back in the workroom to capture all the inner details as well.
Amusing that this job was giving him a particular expertise in drawing flowers, and teaching him more than he'd ever thought he would know about them.He would never complain about more knowledge, though, not when most of the people he'd grown up with could not even read.To this day, he wasn't certain what had set him apart in such a way that he'd been granted such a thorough education.Even his parents hadn't understood.They were saffron farmers like everyone else in the colony.You didn't need to read to do that.
Back in his workroom, he made a pot of tea and then settled into drawing the flower in earnest, until he had a pile of sketches good enough to turn into final line art that would then be painted with watercolor before the papers were added to their respective locations in the book that he would then finally bind.
Yawning, he closed up the workshop before heading off to the dining hall in search of dinner, stomach growling all the way.
*~*~*
He was in the noble gardens again, this time to sketch a tree, when he encountered another one of Prince Bakhtiar's concubines.This was the one that was older than the rest, who'd been His Highness's tutor.He hadn't been happy to hear that, initially, because that sounded like the worst sort of abuse of power, and he'd stupidly thought His Highness better than that.
As he gleaned the whole tale, though, he learned not only that he'd been right all along—Prince Bakhtiar was not the type to abuse power—but that there were incredibly strict rules involved with joining the harem, all of which revolved around preventing things like coercion.
So nothing like back home, where he'd arrived to work one day to find an imperial clerk waiting for him with a special summons from Margrave Consus informing him he had three days to settle his affairs before he was to report to the Margrave's estate to join the harem of his son, Lord Pollux.
Three days.He'd only recently turned twenty-four that day, and a stupid fuckingletterwas all the warning he got that he would lose his life, one way or another, in three days.He had never been so angry, and living under the crushing heel of Havarin produced a lot of anger.
That had been a little over two years ago.For most of that first year, he had lived constantly on edge, even though logically no margrave would spend the money, time, and resources needed to track down one little forgettable bookbinder.Lord Pollux had probably picked a different victim and swiftly forgotten about him.
It didn't sit well with Aaralyn that his escape meant someone else would suffer his fate, but he had no control over that, and the right to put himself first.If only that hadn't meant endangering others.But…
It didn't matter.He'd made his choice.Because of that choice he was here, sitting beneath the branches of a small Wise Elder tree meticulously sketching berries and leaves.Unlike most of the books he made for Lady Hedieh, this one would be a gift to a friend of hers.She'd actually paid him additionally for it, since such things were technically outside the scope of his work.Another difference between here and his homeland, where he'd been paid little better than a pittance for at least twice the work.
He'd just finished on the leaves when he heard a voice say, "Damn it, these pages aren't cut.I'll need to—"
"I have a paper knife," Aaralyn said, immediately reaching for his bag and pulling it out before he looked up—and nearly dropped it in his shock.
Up close, the man was of course as beautiful as all the others.His skin was slightly darker than Lord Kurosh's had been, and his long hair fell loose over his shoulders.He wore diamonds and opals set in white gold, including jeweled hoops in his nipples, which were incredibly difficult not to stare at.
Aaralyn dropped his gaze, hoping he'd not accidentally stared so long as to be disciplined for it.
"Thank you," the man said.Farrokh, he thought.Lord Farrokh.Aaralyn listened as he cut the pages, and then that lovely voice, which would be so pleasant to listen to during a lesson, "Here you are."
He looked up, took the knife that was held out, and dropped his gaze again."Happy to be of help, my lord."
"You're the one that Kurosh spoke of, the bookmaker hired by Lady Hedieh."
Why in the world did they care?"Yes, my lord.She reads and writes a great deal, always studying and sharing knowledge.I compile the scattered pieces into private books for her use."
"What are you working on today?"
He almost looked up again, but they would only forgive sort of rudeness so many times, and he'd already been caught gawking.Logically, he knew nobody would hit him for such things.He'd seen evidence of that aplenty in the ten months he'd lived in the palace, but it took more than two years away to overcome a lifetime of fear."Her Ladyship made a personal request for a book for a friend, a compendium of all his favorite plants and flowers.I was granted approval to be in these gardens for the project.I promise I'm not trespassing."
