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Of the way watching that happen had left Kadou cold and how his own satisfaction had not been whole and complete after all, of how he yearned to call Evemer back and undo him like he himself had been undone.
Of the next night, when the same thing had happened. And the next.
And then next, when ithadn’tbecause, as it turned out, Kadou couldn’t bear to send Evemer off like that every day, and Evemer was getting restless and snappish, traces of strain showing in his eyes that meant there were heaps more beyond that which he was hiding, even though he had claimed on the first night that he wouldn’t feel like he was truly suffering. Even a pleasant kind of torture had its limits.
Kadou had put his foot down, and they’d argued about that too, Evemer insisting that he wanted to continue, right up until Kadou said that Evemer’s wants could go hang, becauseKadou’swant was “not to live like this” and therefore the whole argument was moot. Restraining themselves to infuriatingly lukewarm chastity was miserable, but at least it was a misery they were enduring together.
That was the last time Kadou was going to be allowed to want something for himself. At some point, there would be a foreign treaty of some kind that stipulated a permanent bond, and off he’d go to the temple to be married to someone he’d have to try to love.
It was, on some level, lucky that he and Evemer were being stymied by their marriage. If he’d had the opportunity, he would have taken Evemer to bed a dozen times before he realized what a terrible idea it was, that he was setting himself up for heartbreak. He was embarrassed by how long it had taken him to think of that, but it was better to do so now, before they’d gone any further down that path. He already wanted too much of Evemer, and if he had been at liberty to do so, he would have wanted the rest.
Selfish, greedy thing—Kadou would have wanted all of him, all for his own and forever.
Perhaps Evemer knew how he felt. Perhaps that’s why he was holding back, waiting for Kadou to catch up with the idea that they reallyshouldn’tbe doing this. Perhaps those few nights had been the bare minimum to help Kadou clear his head. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps—but no, that was the fear-creature again.
He squeezed his eyes closed and pressed both hands over his mouth to muffle himself.
This was a bad one—nearly as bad as the one he’d had after they were attacked in the alley, the one Tadek had soothed him through. Nearly as bad as the ones he’d had during Zeliha’s pregnancy.
Gods, he hated this. Usmim was the god of judgment, and he sent trials to measure a person’s mettle, but this? This was stupid. This wasboring. How would a trial like this prove anything except his own ability to keep himself crushed down to size, like cramming his feet into shoes much too small for him?
That’s what he was going to have to do soon. Pack everything in, all his feelings and selfish wants—he’d have to shove it into too-small shoes, because of propriety, because of duty, because simply beingborna prince meant that you were bound into certain oaths, ones that you never got a chance to choose for yourself as the kahyalar did.
He was going to have to let Evemer go, and then he was really, really going to have to try to put some distance between them, even if it broke his heart, even if it was the very last thing he wanted. He had an obligation, promises to keep, his duty. The country needed him to be a prince more than he himself needed to be Kadou. Those parts of him would get packed away again, folded in paper at the bottom of a trunk somewhere like a forgotten kaftan.
He was not allowed to be himself. He was not allowed to want for himself. Evemer would understand, when he framed it like that. Evemer knew about duty.
Gods, I’m happy to have that done with,” Zeliha said after lunch the next day—it was supposed to have been breakfast, but she and Kadou had mutually and simultaneously sent notes that there was no way they were getting up that early. “Three whole months until the next one, and that’ssedatecompared to Midsummer.”
Kadou nodded drowsily, still dead tired and hungover, both physically and emotionally. He’d only managed to get an hour or so of sleep, and now he was lounging in the cushions with Eyne a heavy weight on his chest. That should have been enough tofinallyknock him out, except that every few minutes, just as he was about to drop off, she’d wriggle and he’d come alert again with a start, terrified that he was about to let her fall.
“And then,” Zeliha said, yawning and adjusting her own pile of cushions. “We’ll have His Grace here—”
“Who?”
“The nice Vintish boy. The Duc de Resti. I showed you his picture and you thought he was handsome.”
“Oh, him.”
“We’ll have His Grace here,” she continued, “so we’ll have to have parties, and then it’ll be winter and everyone will pile back into the palaceagain,and you won’t be able to hear yourself think—”
It made Kadou’s skin crawl to think of it. “I can use your bathhouse, can’t I?”
“Other one too crowded?”
“Packed.”
“Mm.” After a moment, she said, “Isn’t it strange to be so furiously busy and then have a quiet, lazy day? I keep thinking someone’s going to come in and drag me off to look at something that urgently requires my personal attention. The only things I’m doing today are eating and napping with Eyne. You?”
Well, sister,he thought to himself.I happened to get married to one of my kahyalar and now I’m in love with him, so my plan for the day is to keep dragging my feet on the annulment, and also to finish breaking my own heart when I think of letting him go. But don’t worry, I know my place and what I have to do. Other than that, naps with Eyne sound lovely.“Nothing much,” he said.
After a time, she said, “Did I apologize yet? I should have been kinder to you about Siranos. I should have listened to you.”
“No, you were—you were reasonable and fair.”
“Too reasonable. Too fair.” She shook her head. “I’m still trying to find an equilibrium between being a sovereign and being your sister. I was trying so hard to be good at one of them that I made a really shameful wreck of the other. I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven. Of course, forgiven.”
