Chapter Four

One of her companions asked, "What's wrong?"

"Sandstorm, I would imagine," Aradishir replied quietly, and looked to Lieutenant Erfan as he came striding in.

"Yes, Your Highnesses. A rather abrupt one. It's come up with little warning. We won't have time to make it back to the palace, not with the chaos in the streets. I did send a runner to inform Their Majesties, though, and we should be more than fine sheltering here."

Relanya's eyes widened. "A sandstorm? Like the one that delayed us before?"

"Worse," Erfan replied. "That one lasted hours. This one… it could last the whole rest of the day and into the night. Hard to say, but it's much worse than the previous."

Aradishir asked, "The restaurant staff? Our people?"

"Many of the staff chose to try and make it home, as they live nearby, but four have remained and all our people are inside." His mouth quirked as he added, "Lucky for all of us, we're in a restaurant and it has a protected water source. Though I suppose we could make do with the wine."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Aradishir replied with a laugh. "I can see the looks on my parents' faces if I returned to the palace heavily drunk, explaining it was absolutely all we had to drink for hours or days."

Erfan's mouth twitched, but he said nothing, only bowed and slipped out of the room, no doubt to check on everyone and get any updates on the storm.

One of Relanya's companions shuddered. "We had to stay on the ship last time, and it was like being back at sea all over again, tossed about by a storm, feeling like we would capsize at any moment."

"Thankfully there is no risk of capsizing here," Heydar replied, and refilled her wine. "Our biggest threat will be boredom, but hopefully with so many of us, that will not happen."

Merza refilled the rest of their wines, and Aradishir smiled, even as the wind kicked up, rattling the closed doors beyond the additional barrier. "Have you heard of the notorious tribes of the Great Desert?"

"Only that the Great Desert is dangerous for many reasons and to be avoided." Relanya made a face. "There are always stories of the wild savages of Tavamara and the Desert, but I find those distasteful. If I recall correctly, you have an uncle who is Prince of the Great Desert [2] ?"

"Uncle Sahayl," Aradishir said. "Father had him adopted into the family, which made him a prince, and gave him the authority to unite the tribes once and for all. It's a story fit for a novel. Would you like to hear it?"

"I would love to," Relanya replied, and her handmaidens looked just as excited.

"Father's Steward is from the Desert, you know. The Cobra Tribe. He's quite fierce looking, tattooed all over with snake scales. The story actually begins with him. You would like his wife; she is from Havarin and had a child from her first husband before he died, and she fled here so her son wouldn't be taken from her. It was that boy who became friends with…"

Aradishir told the story avidly, interspersed with anecdotes from Heydar, who knew some of it from his father, and even a few of the guards who had been there when Sahayl first arrived at the palace.

"You weren't kidding," Relanya said when he finished. "That could be turned into the most exciting play!" She smiled softly, something in her eyes making his heart trip over itself. "Of course, some of that is your gift as a storyteller. Gift and skill, I should say, for you've clearly honed what comes naturally to you."

Face hot, feeling suddenly shy, Aradishir looked at the table as he said, "Thank you, Your Highness. That means a lot to me. I like telling stories, but I don't have quite the same vivacity as my siblings."

"I do not believe you," Relanya said. "My son will not stop speaking about the man who found him and brought him back to me, and how he too gives people fits."

Aradishir groaned, burying his face in his hands as everyone laughed.

"Your son is delightfully charming," Heydar said, offering her more wine.

"Thank you," Relanya said. "He is a handful, but there is no one I love more."

"He seemed delightful. The whole court will adore him by the end of the week," Aradishir replied. If they didn't, he'd make them regret it.

The hand that nudged his thigh warned him at least three people at the table could read his thoughts. Aradishir stifled a sigh. "I think I've stolen all the attention for this luncheon. Tell me of your home, or a story about your son." Or maybe how many more children she'd like. Aradishir wouldn't be content until there was a little girl just like her in every way.

Fuck, he really was the stupidest person alive.

"There was the time he escaped his nursery and I found him sleeping with my father's sledding dogs," Relanya said with a long sigh. "My heart stopped, and the poor nurse thought I would terminate her on the spot, but I can hardly punish other people when he escapes me all the time."

Aradishir laughed. "Bakhtiar was also good at escaping his caretakers. Don't leave him and Kerrin alone, Bakhti will likely share notes."

"Marvelous," Relanya muttered. "Could I get some more of this wine?"

Snickering, Heydar dutifully refilled her cup and offered it up.

Outside, the wind was howling in earnest, battering the shutters so hard Aradishir half-feared they'd bust open, even though he knew very well that Tavamarans knew how to keep sand outside no matter what the circumstances.

"So what do you like to do for fun, Your Highness, on the rare occasion you have free time to enjoy?"

"Read, relax in my garden, enjoy music and performances. My father's concubine Nandakumar is the finest musician in the entire kingdom, and he plays for the family sometimes. I always greatly enjoy those evenings."

Relanya smiled. "I always enjoy plays. They're a highly popular pastime in the coldest months, when we get no sun, just endless night. Too cold even to go outside, so entertainment is vitally important and plays the most popular version. One of my favorites is about a woman whose family is utterly destitute and on the verge of being cast out of their home. She becomes a brigand, accosting the wealthy and powerful on the road, taking their valuables to sell for money to help her family. Until she winds up having to kidnap the daughter of the evil duke, and of course there's all sorts of trouble and they fall in love… It's really quite a wonderful tale. I watch the play every year, multiple times. I have books, illustrations, and more."

"You'll have to loan me one of the books, if you're so inclined. I'd love to read it, given how avidly you speak of it."

"Of course!" Relanya pressed her hands together, as excited as a girl promised a new dress or toy. "I can't wait to discuss it with you." Lowering her hands, she accepted another sip of wine from Heydar and then said, "What sorts of things does Prince Bakhtiar like?"

"Bakhtiar likes to be a—oof." He cast Merza a dirty look. "That was uncalled for!"

"Be nice," Merza said, unrepentant.

Rolling his eyes, Aradishir tried again. "My brother is bad at holding still. He loves to do . Archery, horse riding, foot racing, the absolutely absurd challenge where they race barefoot over rocks during the hottest part of the year to prove who is the most talented at being stupid…"

That sent Relanya into a fit of giggles that made Aradishir forget all about his dumb brother. She was so sweet and pretty and fun . He could speak with her like this for hours.

He could do plenty of other things with her for hours, but he wasn't even going to think about letting his mind wander that road.

"How in the world did that become a tradition?" Relanya said. "Not that I can judge. We do something similar back home with cutting a hole in the ice and jumping into the water. Proves manliness or something."

"Proves strength, determination, discipline, endurance, a severe lack of intelligence, and a weird desire to burn one’s feet for no reason at all…"

He could listen to Relanya giggle and laugh all day, every day. Especially if all he had to do was ruthlessly mock Bakhtiar.

"Is there a prize for winning this race of burning feet?"

Aradishir grinned. "In fairness, if you do it correctly, there's no burning, and the prize is typically a large purse, with second and third place prizes being things like wine. It's already happened this year, but you can certainly attend next year. Bakhtiar would love to know you're there watching him. He doesn't race for prizes, though. There's a race for the purse and then a race of friendly competition. Usually when he wins, he donates the same amount as the purse to a charity."

"That's lovely, how thoughtful."

Bakhtiar had stolen the idea from Aradishir, but he didn't mind leaving that detail out, because stolen was overdramatic, and Bakhtiar had done it with a good heart and sincere intentions.

"It makes him exceedingly popular, which is good, because we're going to drop him on the throne eventually."

Erfan slipped back into the room then, expression grim.

"What's wrong?" Aradishir asked, smile sliding from his face.

"You must come with us at once, all of you," Erfan said, as the rest of their guards spilled into the room and started helping everyone to their feet before ushering them out of the room, down the stairs—and then further down still, until they were in the basement amongst barrels and crates and hanging meats and fruits.

Erfan closed the heavy trapdoor and locked it. Aradishir had a lot of questions about why a restaurant would need a basement that locked from the inside, but that would have to wait. "Erfan, what's going on?"

"We have reports of roving bandits taking advantage of the storm to plunder shops."

Relanya frowned. "Surely they wouldn't get very far with that, given the lack of visibility."

"Desperate people use desperate means," Erfan replied, "and greedy fools will go to foolish extremes."

Aradishir didn't believe a single word. Bandits didn't go about raiding shops in a sandstorm for precisely the reason Relanya had just given. And Erfan wouldn't lock them all in a basement for thieves who would take one look at their uniforms and run away because no loot was worth tangling with the royal guard.

Something more serious was going on. Something dire and dangerous. "Erfan, with me," he said sharply, and strode off behind a rack of wine barrels where they could speak in relative privacy. "What is really going on?"