“Tell me everything that happened,” I say, one hand holding the still sealed invitation and the other pinching my eyes against a resurfacing headache.

  “Of course. As instructed, I went with your reply to the imperial villas on campus where the four Princeps are staying during their studies. Princep Vincent happened to be present, so I was ushered into the attached garden where he was having tea with his older sister, Princep Talia.”

  My face darkens at the mention. Talia, a chevalier with a chimeric mount who gained fame in Caethlon. She didn’t fight during the insurgency, just the initial conquest, but still managed to rack up enough achievements to be granted the territory and title of a viscount in her own right.

  She was particularly hated by the resistance, despite not fighting it. In particular, her name was uttered by the old fighters in the cell in reference to the battle of Pelinthor. I don’t know the details, but from what they said Pelinthor was the closest the Caethlian army got to a major victory. Something to do with tricking them into a vulnerable position.

  Supposedly she led a charge against a fortified group of mages that were pinning down the Arkothan advance. The rest of the charge all fell to spell and missile before they reached the line, but she alone sufficed. She cut down the mundanes and knights protecting the mages, and then cut down the mages too. The old fighters said that we would have won the day were it not for her, and it seems the Arkothans agree.

  “Well,” Marco says over my thoughts, “I handed the reply to Princep Vincent, who, upon reading it, slammed the table and shouted ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Before I could answer, Princep Talia snatched the paper from his hand and started laughing very excessively.”

  “Laughed? In what way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, did she seem to be laughing at him, me or you?”

  “I believe him, as she then said ‘What’s the matter little brother? Scared away another supporter?’ to which he shouted ‘I didn’t even do anything.’” Marius gives me a withering look.

  “Don’t tell me you believe him over your own…” What exactly is my relationship to him? Alan is paying so I’m not his employer. Lord, I guess, as he’s presently dedicated to me. “…lord?”

  He gives me a look of pointed indifference. “The princep then accused you of ambushing him while pretending to be unaware of his approach. That you then ‘played coy’ about your support, even though you were obviously trying to crudely barter with it.”

  “That snake,” I half mutter.

  “My lord?”

  “Nothing… When he shouted, did he seem angry at me, or embarrassed by his sister?”

  “I would say, embarrassed, but trying to pass it off as anger towards you.”

  “And was Princep Talia fooled by this misdirection?”

  “Not at all, my lord. In fact, she teased him most incessantly – bringing up past instances which caused him to blush further.”

  “Right, so why did he bother to lie about me ambushing him?”

  “Did he lie, my lord?”

  I give him a withering glare.

  “As you say, my lord. Though, what about the other part of his claim. That you played coy while crudely trying to barter your support?”

  “I don’t see why I should be interrogated by you about my manners.”

  He smiles most patronizingly. “My lord, you should of course discuss this with your cousin, but I have served Baronet Linhal for over a decade now. I may not be trained in noble etiquette, but I’m not ignorant of it either. I’m not trying to chastise, I just thought my perspective might be useful when Lord Linhal isn’t present, even if you choose to ignore my advice.”

  He’s… not entirely wrong. I’m likely just prickly about that encounter, given how weakly I acted in it. “I suppose you’re right… M… Mer… Marcus.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he says with a slight smile at my getting his name right for the first time.

  “I suppose he wasn’t entirely lying about my attempts at being coy, but not the way he said. He was behaving… oddly. My intent was to escape the encounter without loss, and the coyness was an impromptu attempt to do so while maybe even gaining something. But even if it were premeditated, he still reacted far too aggressively.”

  Marcus shrugs. “Perhaps, my lord, but it might at least explain his accusation of ambush. Since perceptions of deception can permeate to past actions.”

  I shake my head. “Except he was very confident when he correctly deduced my reason for being there. Far too much to second guess himself.”

  “Then perhaps he felt embarrassed about what you claimed was aggressive behaviour.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Claimed? You still don’t believe me?”

  “My belief is irrelevant. It would be improper for me to accept a claim of untoward behaviour by the Imperial family, though I may engage in hypotheticals assuming it’s true if directed by my lord.”

  “Right… then assuming my perspective is true…”

  “Then I would say that I’ve heard Princep Vincent has a close bond with Princep Talia. Indeed, that he’s not fond of any of the Princeps in his own… generation for lack of a better word, and has only connected with a few of the older Princeps, especially Talia. If this is true, then I would guess that he particularly did not want her to find out both because he did not wish to lose her esteem, and because she knows him well enough to tease.”

  “I see. What happened next then?”

  “Princep Talia asked me a series of questions about your meeting with Princep Vincent, which I was honestly able to say I did not know the answers to, but which caused Princep Vincent to blush deeper with each one. Eventually though, I was forced to admit that you accused Princep Vincent of rudeness towards you, which caused an outburst from him. He claimed that your reply was clearly just another ruse to get closer to him by feigning disinterest and that he would send an invitation that you wouldn’t dare refuse.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I say perplexed. “If he thought I was trying to get closer by disagreeable means, surely the correct response would be to stop sending me invitations, not give me an opportunity for my tactic to work.”

  “He gains nothing by leaving you be. He likely assumes that you intend to draw things out until he offers some benefit for accepting. My guess would be that he intends to thwart you with the nature of the event.”

  With an ominous sinking of my stomach, I finally tear open the letter.

  ‘Greetings runt,

  what an amusing reply you sent me. Well, fortunately for you I am magnanimous and…’

  I roll my eyes at the second reference to our slight difference in height in as many sentences and skim down to the point.

  ‘… do invite you to the Equinoctial hosted by my father, Her Majesty Empress Celeste Hallenhal first of her name. Let’s see you worm your way out of this one.’

  I groan, tossing the letter on the bath tray. “Do you know what he invited me to?”

  “He didn’t say, my lord.”

  I gesture for him to read the letter and wait for him to finish. “Well, I don’t suppose you have a suggestion for getting out of it?”

  “No, my lord, in fact, refusing an invitation to an event hosted by Her Majesty could be considered treason.”

  “Ah… But what’s his aim? Surely an event like this would be something most people would connive to receive an invitation to?”

  “Some, my lord. Events like this are certainly an opportunity for low ranking nobles but are also dangerous. There will be many powerful nobles there who can destroy your future social prospects at a misstep. As such, most young nobles do not seek invitations until they have built up sufficient support to survive a mistake, and experience to avoid one. The only way for one without such support to survive would be to immediately find a powerful patron – a Princep, for instance.”

  “I see, but isn’t this a gamble then? He might be near guaranteed my support should I fumble, but if I don’t then I’ll likely gain contacts without him gaining anything.”

  “Not entirely. Arriving as part of his entourage will signal tentative support.”

  I grab the invite and read if fully. “It doesn’t require that I attend with him.”

  “Not technically, though it is assumed that you would. First, it would provide you some protection against petty social squabbles. More importantly, arriving by yourself would be seen as a public snub, which he likely assumes you wouldn’t dare perform as he believes you do ultimately want to be in his favour. Not to mention that the attention it would draw to you would be dangerous.”

  “I see,” I say, growing quiet in contemplation. The Equinoctial is in three weeks. Plenty of time to figure a way out… unless there is no way. He likely assumed there isn’t and so picked an event so far away to prolong my suffering. Well, if he’s intent on making me suffer, then I’ll return the favour. At the very least I’ll attend by myself and snub him, regardless of the danger.

  Sigh, I assumed I would spend that evening studying spells, as the equinox is a major liminal event and so is a potent time to negotiate with the Eye. Though the Empress will likely perform rituals which will compensate. Moreover, it’s rumoured that proximity to the Empress during these types of events can cause strange and lasting impact on your negotiations. Not necessarily good, nor bad, but strange.

  So perhaps attending the event won’t be innately bad, but I still refuse to attend with him. So, I need to find a way to mitigate the consequences and it’s not like murder is an option… well, probably not. I leave it till the end at least.

  …From what Marcus said, his sister egged him on. Maybe I can appeal to her to intercede.

  “Am I correct in assuming that sending Princep Talia a letter asking for her aid would be rude?”

  “Not rude, my lord, but perhaps impertinent without a formal introduction first.”

  Much the same then. Though perhaps tactful impertinence can serve me. A letter claiming that it’s her fault Vincent escalated things might amuse her enough to help. Or it could get me executed for Lèse-majesté. No way to tell without meeting her myself, and if I meet her, I might as well plead in person… Allan can probably connive a ‘chance’ meeting at a social gathering for me.

  “How long can I put off replying?” I ask.

  “The sooner the better my lord.”

  “So indefinitely. Do I have to reply, or can I just attend?”

  “…You should probably ask Lord Linhal about that.”

  I nod. It’s still midway through the week. I had planned to go back to discuss the various happenings of the last few days with Alan over the weekend, though I would have gone back sooner had a prompt reply been mandatory. Still, he should know about this sooner. I take a sheet of paper and write a quick message.

  ‘Princep Vincent invited me to the Empress’s Equinoctial. Marcus says it’s dangerous. I believe Princep Talia might help if a ‘chance’ meeting can be arranged. Will discuss further on the weekend along with other happenings.’

  Despite having nothing incriminating in it I still feel uneasy about sending it without precautions, so I pluck hairs from my head and intertwine them then wrap them around my silver rod and chant a quick divinatory setup. I then untwine them and place one hair in the wax which I use to seal the letter. Finally, I stand one of the wooden rods on the second hair, and two more rods in a straight line with prepared weal and woe sheets beneath.

  It's a much quicker array to set up than the one I used on the boat, with the middle rod on the hair set to fall when the letter is opened – towards weal if Alan opens it, towards woe if anyone else does.

  “Thank you for your advice, Marcus. Please deliver this to Allan by tonight.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” he says with a short bow and leaves me to relax.

  Finally freed of distraction I sigh deeply and close my eyes, submerging myself fully in the water until need of air forces me to surface, and then only enough to breathe. I stay like this, letting the heat soak through my muscles still sore from the morning’s mishap, never wanting to leave.