“Without risking the king?” Isaak asked, surprised at the bitter edge in his voice.
Tolya rested a giant hand on his shoulder. “We would never let harm come to you, Isaak.”
“I know,” said Isaak. But did he? And could he really complain? It was a soldier’s lot to be expendable. A guard’s job to put himself between his ruler and harm. Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing now?
Tamar leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “I’ve searched the chambers of the Shu guards.”
“They’re our guests,” protested Tolya.
“They’re our enemies,” said Tamar.
“And potential allies,” said Genya. “It wouldn’t do to make them mad.”
“We were cautious. But there was little to learn. The few journals I found were kept in code, and I doubt any member of the Tavgharad would be foolish enough to put damning details to paper.”
“And the Kerch made an attempt on our labs,” said Tolya.
David looked up from his reading, startled. “Did they get in?”
“We let them make it all the way to the Fabrikator workshops.”
“Oh,” said David, losing interest.
“We’re not concerned about that?” asked Isaak.
“The real work happens elsewhere,” said Tamar. “We even planted some fake blueprints for them to find. All of it should help set the stage for our performance at the Gilded Bog.”
“We’re going to the Gilded Bog?” asked Isaak, unable to hide his excitement.
“Unfortunately,” said Tolya.
Genya tucked her slippered feet beneath her. “We’ll be using Count Kirigin’s lake to show the Kerch our prototype of the izmars’ya.” A look passed between the others that Isaak didn’t understand, but that was nothing new. He assumed someone would tell him what exactly an izmars’ya was so he could nod sagely about the subject when the time came.
“You will be working,” added Tamar. “Not sampling Kirigin’s entertainments.”
“Of course,” said Isaak. But he could at least get a glimpse of what all the fuss was about.
Genya pushed a sheaf of papers over to him. “Here are notes for the dinner tonight. You won’t be expected to make a speech, but this will be a more formal affair, so you’ll need to do your best to seem at ease. Tomorrow is the hunt.”
“I can hunt at least,” said Isaak with relief.
“Not like a gentleman hunts. But Nikolai was never much for the sport anyway. He has a fondness for foxes. The hunt is just an excuse to ride and get to know the hopefuls. Remember to spread your conversation evenly amongst them. We’ll go over the particulars tonight after dinner.”
They filed out and Isaak let his head flop back, staring at the gilded ceiling. He felt both tired and restless. He glanced at the notes on place settings and how to eat oysters and tossed them aside. He needed to clear his head.
As soon as he opened the door, Tolya was there. “Is something wrong?”
“I just want to take a walk.”
Tolya fell back a few steps as Isaak made his way down the hall, but it was still unsettling to know he was being watched. There were rumors Nikolai had run away from university to pursue a life of adventure on the high seas as the privateer Sturmhond. A ridiculous story, but Isaak could understand the impulse. Who wouldn’t choose that kind of freedom over this constant performance? He passed through the portrait gallery, ignoring the paintings of countless Lantsov kings and queens, and entered the conservatory.
It was Isaak’s favorite place in the Grand Palace. The high-ceilinged room ran half the length of the southern wing. Sunlight streamed through walls made entirely of glass panels, and steam pipes heated the red tile floor. The conservatory’s winding paths were lined with potted fruit trees and tall palms, flowering shrubs that overflowed the walkways, and hedges trimmed into tiered arches and lattices. An artificial stream flowed through the room’s center, narrowing and widening to form lily ponds and reflecting pools.
A girl was seated by one of the ponds—no, not a girl, a princess. Ehri Kir-Taban. Daughter of Heaven. The Shu usually carried the names of one or both of their parents, but the royal family all took the name of the first Shu queen and founder of the Taban dynasty. There were Ravkan guards and Shu Tavgharad stationed at the room’s perimeter. He should have noticed them sooner, but he’d been too preoccupied. Distraction was something neither a guard nor a king could afford.
So this was his chance. He could make up for his missed meeting with the princess and try to gather the information Genya and the others required. Be charming. Right. Charming.
But before he could decide on a good opening line, the princess lifted her head.
She rose hurriedly and curtsied. “Your Highness.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude on your peace,” he said in Shu.
“I am a guest here. There can be no intrusion.” She glanced at the guards. “Would you … would you care to sit and talk awhile?”
There. I didn’t even have to ask. And yet he still wanted to turn and scurry right back through the door. But to say no now would be seen as a snub. Besides, Tolya might well block the door and refuse to let him through.
Isaak took a seat beside her on the wide rock next to the pond. The air smelled of sweet orange blossom, and the low splash of fish at play in the water was soothing. It might have been a pleasant place to rest if not for the guards glowering in the doorways. Isaak vowed that when he had his face back and returned to duty, he’d try to look a little friendlier.
“Thank you for joining me,” Ehri said.
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Hardly that,” she murmured with a small smile. “No doubt you came here to be alone—as alone as we ever can be—just as I did.”
“But if you wish to be alone, why invite me to join you?”
“I must be seen to be making an effort or the guards will report back to my sister, and then I will never hear the end of it.”
“Your sister?”
“Makhi Kir-Taban, Born of Heaven, our most celestial princess who will inherit the crown and rule wisely and justly for many years.”
“And what will you do?” asked Isaak. A woman wants to be listened to.
“Marry you, of course.”
“Of course,” Isaak said, willing himself not to squirm. “But if you were not to marry me?”
At this, she looked almost panicked, as if the question was not one that had been scripted for her, and she wasn’t at all sure how honest she should be. Isaak could sympathize. “Please,” he said gently, both to put her at ease and because he found he was genuinely curious. “I’d like to know.”
She brushed her thumb over the silk of her gown. “I suppose that, if I hadn’t been born Taban, I would like to be a soldier … maybe even a member of the Tavgharad.”
“Truly?” He couldn’t help but laugh. It was too absurd to contemplate a guard pretending to be a prince talking to a princess who wanted to be a royal guard.
She frowned slightly. “It isn’t kind to laugh.”
Instantly Isaak sobered. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just surprised. Serving in the royal guard is a very noble calling. And it would allow some measure of freedom, though even guards have duties.”