Orin pulled in a breath and took his weight from Tiiran. “Enjoyed that, did you, pup?” he asked without raising his head. “I suppose I deserved it.”
“The barracks are not a kennel or a mews,” Tiiran pointed out, aware Nikoly and Orin were speaking of roses again butalmostunderstanding them. “But they are also no place for Orin. If they were, he would never have come to the library so much. Like you with your family, Nikoly, you love them, but you chose to leave them to come here. So if you both say you are mine, then it is our room. Our room where you belong and where you will return. It feels right, as I said. It doesn’t tangle.”
Nikoly bowed his head, not concealing his pleasure even a little. “Yes, Tiiran.”
“Yes, Tiiran.” Orin punctuated his agreement with a kiss to Tiiran’s ear. But then he was away again, calm and watchful and already turning to pick up the pack he’d discarded in order to pin Tiiran to the wall. “I’d kiss you farewell, but I would find it too hard to stop. I have to go, or I never will.” He put out a hand before Tiiran could argue. “I will go, and I will do my duty, and I will return—toourroom, bossy cat. Though I will have to stop at the barracks before I go and when I come back—and no,” he added this in the same firm, not at all playful tone, “you cannot join me there. The other outguards have enough to scare them right now without thinking you’re coming after them for report corrections.”
“I have the authority to demand corrections?” Tiiran gasped, momentarily lost in the possibility of getting outguards to clarify their terrible handwriting.
The distraction must have been deliberate, because Orin was out the door before Tiiran had shaken himself from the daydream.
Tiiran darted after him, followed closely by Nikoly, who didn’t try to pull him back.
The moment Tiiran and Nikoly rounded a corner in Orin’s wake, Niksa was there, fretting. “Should we leave?”
Tiiran came up short, looking over the library, which was all but abandoned except for a handful of assistants and one scholar. All of them, including the scholar, looked to Tiiran. Orin stopped at the doors as if he also needed to hear Tiiran’s answer.
“I’m not making anyone stay,” Tiiran offered. “Of course I’m not. There’s nothing to do now but clean, and that can wait. Where’s Mattin?” He shook his head to dismiss his own question; Mattin could be rooted out later. “Never mind. You can leave whenever you like, whatever your reasons. Of course you can. The only ones who should be here, the Master Keepers, are—” he saw Orin stiffen “—aren’t here,” Tiiran finished quickly. “But I said this before. Has something changed?”
“Reli from the kitchen gardens said the capital is emptying, and that the nobles remaining in town are questioning Piya’s plans for them if he will take a pregnant Jola Canamorra with no proof of any wrongdoing.” Niksa said it far more quietly than Tiiran would have thought to.
“There’s no proof?” Nikoly pressed. “You’re sure?”
“I don’t know!” Niksa muttered, flailing. “Reli said it, said it was what everyone outside the palace was saying. That if he had proof, Piya would announce it.”
“So peopleinsidethe palace are also saying it,” Nikoly concluded grimly. “So Piya will hear if he hasn’t already.”
“People always say things.” Tiiran tossed his head. “Yet they didn’t predict the troubles last time, did they? Those also occurred with no proof of anything.” Merely the whims of Tye, but Tiiran held it back and was almost pleased with himself. “Do what you feel is best, Niksa, but you’re welcome here if you have no place to go. In fact, someone will need to check on the mousers if I forget.” He gave Niksa and the others a distracted nod and then continued chasing a stubborn bear.
The stubborn bear turned toward Tiiran, eyes narrowed to watch his approach, but also opened the door as if intending to continue on whether or not Tiiran followed him.
“Why does it matter if there is proof?” Tiiran asked Nikoly as he hurried to catch up with Orin. Nikoly was close behind him. “Rulers make up the truth if they can’t find one they like.” Lanth had died for the truth and Tye had lied anyway, for all the good it had done her. “If Piya wants to execute Jola of the Canamorra, then he will. And he probably will.”
Nikoly sucked in a breath.
“Don’t be shocked,” Tiiran said—quietly, he thought. “It’s what every ruler in my lifetime has done, evidence or not. He didn’t follow through at first because people witnessed it, and maybe because of who she is, or the child, or her having another child on the way, so there was an outcry. But the moment that dies down, or after he arrests and possibly executes anyone who might speak in defense of her, he will kill her. And if hereallybelieves she is a threat, then he’s going to go for her friends and probably her siblings too, right? That’s how nobles who want to be ruler do things.” Of that, Tiiran was certain. “Her childmightbe spared. With any other noble family, it would be more possible. But withthatfamily? The one family that no other beat-of-fours could argue don’t belong on the throne because they fucking founded it?”
Nikoly grabbed Tiiran’s robe and pulled. “Tiiran.”
Tiiran dipped beneath Orin’s arm to get out the door first and stand in Orin’s path. “But not even a stupid ruler would outright kill a noble child if they want the support of other noble houses,” Tiiran finished, practically whispering. “So, it’s more likely Piya will arrange an accident, or neglect the child to death so he can claim it was an accident or some such nonsense. People do that with children they don’t want around. Nobles especially do that.” Tiiran could hear the bitterness in his voice and glanced to Nikoly. “Perhaps not all nobles, Nikoly. I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck,” Nikoly said in a high, strained voice, and it was his tone as much as hearing him talk as crudely as Tiiran did that made Tiiran give him a deeper look. But Nikoly was facing away, scanning the corridor with his lower lip between his teeth.
Tiiran turned to Orin, and for the second time in only a few moments, was dragged from his feet and pressed to a wall with Orin large and implacable in front of him. Except this time, Orin was shaking and breathing hard.
He glared into Tiiran’s face.
“You have to get him out of the palace,” Orin ground out, evidently speaking to Nikoly. “Tonight at the latest.”
“What? Wait.” Tiiran put his hands on Orin and pushed uselessly. “No.”
Orin leaned in, growling for only Tiiran to hear. “If he will order the death of a noble child, you think he’d hesitate at a librarian of no family?”
Tiiran’s head swam and deep breaths did not clear it. “You think I’m right?” He didn’t know why he’d asked it. It didn’t matter.
Orin shuddered. “You are so good at understanding systems, but notdanger. Never danger.”
“Hejustasked you to be careful.” Nikoly scolded Tiiran fiercely, then added—to Orin, “I don’t think anyone heard. Those guards are too far away.”
