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It seems it is time for him to join his brothers and play his role as the scholar.

As Jemel turns from the wide corridor of the main temple into the passageway that leads to his chamber, someone steps out of the shadows and grabs hold of him, a big hand over his mouth.

20

XAN

Xan spends the day thinking about little other than the tiny glimpse he saw of Jemel’s face. He tried to avert his eyes, but when Jemel moved his hands, as Xan worked to stop the wound in his thigh from bleeding, he could not help but see those silver eyes. And when he drank the wine, that strangely twisted lip.

Is his whole face twisted so? Is that why he hides it? But his eyes are so beautiful. What is the rest of his face like? His beautiful eyes or his twisted mouth?

It is late in the day when a page comes to his chambers and bids him in simple Artemian words, to follow him.

Xan does so. He doesn’t doubt he is being taken to Atticul. It should be no surprise. That is the reason he is here. Nevertheless after what he did the night before he cannot help thinking this is somehow connected.

Perhaps Jemel has betrayed him. Gone straight to Atticul and told him that Xan is planning to rescue Trysta from the dungeons?

Atticul offered him a deal to betray Jemel. Could he have played them against each other? Offered Jemel a similar deal?

But he thinks of Jemel in his arms as he carried him. Jemel, sweet and weak when he left him in his bed. He had stayed in that chair watching him for a long time, until he was sure his priest was deep in sleep and his wound no longer bleeding. He was so late to bed it must have been almost dawn. He can still feel it in his bones, despite resting most of the day.

He hopes his mind is sharp enough for whatever this meeting with Atticul will entail. He pulls on his cloak and follows the page.

When the door is opened by one of Atticul’s bodymen, Xan steps into a fine parlour. The settles are all of red velvet, the cushions embroidered with gold. The walls are hung with tapestries depicting the great victories that built the Azurian empire. The rugs that cover the stone floor are decorated with patterns of flowers and fruit. It is the wealthiest room Xan has yet seen in this palace. Atticul stands in the centre of the room, half a dozen armed guards and two of his personal bodymen behind him.

He steps forward, saying, “We had deal. What is problem? I give you whore sister and rock and you be king. You to fuck one priest? You price your cock so high?”

Xan pauses a moment to understand all that is being said to him, before responding. “Jemel chaste,” Xan says. But even as he speaks, he thinks of Jemel’s breath, hot on his neck as he carried him from the underground gardens.

“No. He fight desires. Desires for you,” Atticul says bluntly. “Does he resist? Resistance can be removed.” He steps forward, grinning nastily, and holds something out to Xan. Xan takes it. It’s a small leather flask.

“You know what it is?” Atticul says.

Xan opens the flask. He sniffs it. “I know,” he says coldly. That would, indeed, solve the problem. If Jemel’s reticence was truly the problem. He meets Atticul’s eye. “No. Not this.”

Atticul snaps his fingers and one of the guards from the back of the group steps forward. Xan realises only then, this man is not dressed as the other guards, but in the colours of the Imperial Army, green and gold. He wears a mark of Zai on his breast. He is perhaps ten years older than Xan and holds himself like a man well-disciplined, like the soldier he is dressed as. Xan knows him instantly from his colouring and the lines of his face as a Plumian. A Plumian Imperial soldier, as Trysta once was. Atticul says something to this man. The man bows.

“Great envoy of Pluma,” he says in Plumian, “My name is Officer Yerichor. I am a Plumian long ago given the honour of joining the Imperial Army. When he became Emperor, High Grand Majesty Ascendant Atticul sent for me and a great number of Plumian warriors who share such an honour. We have travelled from the Imperial barracks at Lunatum in inclement weather to be here in Attar for the Ascension and be ready for his quest North. But the Emperor will add this to your prize in return for the service he asks of you. He will give you every Plumian enslaved in the Imperial Army to do with as you wish, to take to Pluma as freed men or as your own slaves, as you decree. This will be Emperor Atticul’s gift to you in return for seducing the priest that troubles him and your assistance in his battle.” The man stops speaking, his face a mask. If he feels anything about the words he has just said, he does not betray it in expression or tone.

“Brother I…” Xan begins, but he cannot speak. Yerichor’s face is placid. Every Plumian slave. His mouth is dry. If he could bring such a thing back to Pluma, he would have all he desires. His father’s standing restored to him. The stain of versun removed from his name.

“You see my generosity,” Atticul says. “And if you hesitate any longer to fuck the Hare, I will kill your sister tonight. And not easily.”

Xan’s head spins. Every Plumian slave freed. How can he refuse this for one man? He looks to Yerichor, who simply nods, face still blank. He has to get away from this foul place. He has to.

When Xan looks back to Atticul, he is grinning. “You will take my deal?”

Xan looks down at the flask in his hand as Atticul speaks and Yerichor says, “His Imperial Majesty asks if you will take his deal.”

Xan transfers the flask to his left hand and holds out his right. There is only one thing he can do now. “Tell him I do,” he says. “Give me one more night.”

As Yerichor relays this to Atticul, Atticul steps forward and grasps Xan’s forearm.

Xan tells himself he has no choice.

His sister will not spend another night in this place.

On his way to Jemel’s chambers, Xan hears approaching footsteps. He does not wish to be challenged in his current mood, so he presses back into an alcove, waiting for whoever is approaching to pass. And around the corner comes Jemel.