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“Ask her what she wants and give it to her,” Selim says bluntly. Before turning to Damon. “Chancellor Vindar tells me you made a great show of covering your wife last night at the Feast of Surrus. I am glad to hear it.”

Damon nods. It always surprises him how quickly news travels in Attar. But of course, Vindar has eyes at Sanglora. “Thank you, Your Grace. Inez was keen to receive the blessings of Mother Surrus.”

“I am sure she will and there will finally be a grandson for the Darek line.”

“There is already a grandson, from the legitimate line,” Damon says cautiously, looking to Vindar. “I am sure Atticul will marry soon. And Endrew is still young. There will be many Darek grandsons.”

“I hope so.” Selim covers Damon’s hand with his own. “You must forgive me, worrying about the succession so. It is only my guilt at not continuing the line myself.”

“You have dedicated your life to Zai, uncle,” says Damon. “The empire thanks you for your sacrifice.”

Vindar coughs lightly. He picks up a small bell on the table and rings it. Without a word the guards and pages all leave the room in a swift and silent tide. Vindar waits until the door is closed before he says, “Master Damon, you are here because you have information for us about the Hevelikar she-demon Jareleezi of Jur-Mattan?”

“I do, but before I give it, I need certain assurances.”

Selim looks grave. “You would deny us what you know?”

“To learn more I had to become closer with the slave I brought home from Jur-Mattan. You will be aware that this could have been dangerous for me. I wish only to ensure my own safety, Your Grace.”

“Very wise,” says Vindar with his eyes narrowed.

“I want what you promised. I want you to name me Warden of Vashti, with all the garlands that position grants.”

Vindar and Selim exchange glances, before Selim says, “If you know the location of the last Hevelikar, it is yours. I will confer it along with the Order of Azuria at the gala to celebrate your achievements. You may take Felgrace as your new home.”

Damon pauses. Felgrace. He hadn’t thought to ask for Felgrace. He’s never seen it, but he has heard it is a great and beautiful palace, built by King Damon to be his home on Miracle Lake. He will live where his ancestor went mad, but he will live in wealth and luxury beyond his dreams. “And then what of Sanglora?”

Selim shrugs. “Sanglora belongs to you for the whole of your life and beyond. Do with it as you wish. You will need it when Inez gives you many sons.”

Damon is overwhelmed by this. Warden of Vashti and the wealth of all its lands, Felgrace and Sanglora. He’ll be so rich. Beyond the dreams of any bastard. Nevertheless, there are things he wants more than any of this. He says, “I want to keep the slave. I will name him my favoured when I move to Vashti.”

Vindar leans forward and takes a spice cake with long fingers. “You would honour him so? You think he knows more?”

Damon shakes his head. “The opposite. He knows no more. I want assurance that no one will ever use him against the Hevelikar. No one will ever try and extract more information from him or use him as leverage against Jareleezi.”

Selim swallows his mouthful of cake. “You think Jareleezi would want him back? He was just her pleasure slave. I am sure she has acquired many more.”

But it is Vindar who looks at him more darkly and says, “And why do you care so much about this slave that you would make his safety part of this bargain?”

Damon swallows, but says, “All men have weaknesses, uncle.” A bolder statement than he has ever dared make before about the truth of his heart.

Selim nods and surprises Damon, saying, “This is very true. You cannot help your nature. I am sorry to say that the Darek line was cursed two centuries ago by the Lady Iril. I would have hoped that as a bastard you would have been lucky enough to escape the curse, but it seems not. You are enamoured of a male slave. Just as every one of us will betray Zai in our way.” He stands up and walks over to a small table at the back wall, where a silver jug sits on a small candle burner. He brings it back to the table. His bare feet are silent, only his grey robes make soft sounds as he moves.

There are empty silver cups set at each place on the table. Selim fills each one with a pale pink liquid from the jug. The scent of roses is overpowering.

Milk of Gaari. Honeyed goat's milk with rose petals.

Damon hopes he will be able to get away without drinking much of it. Sometimes, Damon has heard, for certain festivals, Selim washes his subjects' feet in Milk of Gaari. Damon is glad he has only ever had to endure the warm rose-scented water. Selim takes a sip of his own milk and says, “You must be discreet about it. Every Darek has to accept his curse and make his peace with it in the eye of Zai.”

Damon nods cautiously. This seems unexpectedly simple. Selim and Vindar must really want those books.

Selim looks at Vindar, “Chancellor, do you agree? Can Damon have your word that the Rose Court will look away from his weaknesses when he is in Vashti?”

Vindar takes a small sip of his Milk of Gaari and says, “Your gala is still almost a moon’s turn away. Can I be assured you will not commit these sins until you are in Vashti? You will resist your slave until then?”

Damon nods. “Of course, Your Grace.” He takes another sip of his peach wine. It seems a little more palatable now.

“Then I think it a reasonable request,” Vindar says. “The Rose Court will take no interest in sins committed in Vashti as they ignore sins committed by men away at war.”