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“And what would Doroth Zain say of this?” says Damon. His voice sounds thick.

“Doroth Zain is a servant of the empire as much as he is a servant of Zai,” says Vindar. “He will be instructed.”

“Prince Atticul may try to spread rumours about me. He has been asking questions about my bedchamber habits for some years.”

“That jealous boy,” Selim coos.

“Atticul is unmarried,” says Vindar. “If he insists on trying to say you are a luxorite perhaps people will wonder about his own bed companions.”

“No one would believe that sin of Atticul,” says Damon. “He is as much of a whore as our father.” He knows as he says this that he has drunk too much of the wine. He reaches for a spice cake and eats it quickly.

Selim says, “My own dear brother, he has his weaknesses too. Emperor Markus, my older brother, was sly, of course. You would not be the first Darek man to be cursed to prefer men in bed.”

Damon swallows the last of his cake. “And Markus only reigned three moons before he was sent into exile by the enforcers.”

“Ah, no,” says Vindar. “Is that what troubles you? That you will suffer the fate of your uncle? There was far more to Markus’s end than that. Markus’s lover was a whore and a Priam. Markus refused to give him up to justice. His taste for luxoli was just a simpler way to be rid of him than exposing the truth of his treachery to the entire court.”

“Oh,” says Damon, taking a second spice cake. The spice is strong. They taste better than he expected.

“Simply being sly,” says Vindar, “would never be enough to make the Enforcers of Zai turn against an Emperor of Azuria. If you are discreet Damon Darekul, your proclivities will never stand in your way. But you must be discreet. Do not forget that. You can name Lyr your favoured and lie with him in Felgrace without scrutiny from the Rose Court, but this blessing must be kept secret. You must not make your sins public, the Rose Court could not defend you then.”

Damon drinks more peach wine. His heart is fluttering. This is working. His dream is within his grasp.

“So we have a deal,” says Selim. “What do you have to tell us? Do you have her location?”

Damon snaps out of revelry. Clearing his throat, he says, “Her destination is Ismagaar. She rides north. It must have been a feint taking that ship to Ik-Sundal. She doubled back overland through Jur-Mattan and Soflio.”

Selim nods. “Of course, she takes the Books of Alios to the demons that created them.”

“What are the Books of Alios?” says Damon. His head is spinning now. He will have a headache soon.

“The words of a false god,” says Selim. “Lies.”

“But these are the items you wish to recover. Why are you so keen to have them if all they contain are lies?”

“I want them destroyed,” Selim says sharply. “When the Imperial Army returns from that filthy desert, we will plan a new campaign to rid the world of the Hevelikar.”

“I wish you every success, Your Grace.”

“It would be my greatest wish to have the new Warden of Vashti lead that campaign,” Selim says. “Lead my armies to Ismagaar. Take that filthy frozen place for the empire.”

Damon swallows. He remembers he promised Lyr he would not be the one to chase Jareleezi. “I cannot, uncle. I grow old.”

Selim reaches across the table. “Then I can only hope your wife will give the empire sons with their father’s skill in the art of war.” He leans back, his thin hand sliding over Damons, and says, “Enjoy what you have achieved here today, loyal nephew. In less than a moon’s turn, we will hold the Great Hero’s Gala in your honour and I will name you Warden of Vashti and you will be able to live the life your heart desires with your Juran whore.” He smiles and raises his silver cup of pale pink liquid. The stench of warm roses seems to hang in the air.

But Damon ignores it. He thinks of Lyr’s sweet body. Of his torso decorated with runes that glow when they make love. He can wait a moon’s turn. Then, in Vashti, he will have Lyr sleep in his bedchamber. And he will make love to him.

He will make love to him every night. He will see that beautiful face twist with pleasure, again and again and again.

16

LYR

Lyr walks to the guest quarters of Sanglora with a tray of fruit and ale and bread and meat. Delivering breakfast to people in the manor isn’t his usual duty. Generally, he is not permitted to go above stairs. But with Kres gone everything seems slightly chaotic, no one is doing their usual duties. The kitchen is being overseen by Cook and the rest of the house’s business is being managed by a man called Tavi, who until yesterday, oversaw the grounds and gardens and seems slightly shocked to be acting as seneschal.

Lyr knocks on a door in the north wing of the manor. When he is bid to come inside, he finds Atticul in bed with Opeth and three other women, who he thinks are from the dance troupe.

“To break your fast, Sire,” Lyr says, placing the tray down on a table beside the window.