Chapter Nine

"Not even a little," Jahanara replied, making him laugh. "What are you doing back so soon? I didn't think you could even be on that leg yet."

"I couldn't just let you two do all the work, now could I? That's no way to treat my future wife," Bakhtiar replied, finally sweeping his gaze over Relanya, and then giving her a bow that was surprisingly graceful, given the awkwardness involved. "Your Highness."

"Your Highness," Relanya returned, climbing to her feet to give him a proper bow. A slight hesitation, and then she set her shoulders and approached him. "It's an honor and pleasure to at last make your acquaintance, though your siblings have been extremely kind and welcoming in your absence."

"Oh, really? So they can behave."

"Shut up, Bakhti, we're not the ones always getting into trouble, are we?"

Bakhtiar only grinned.

"Will you join us for breakfast?" Relanya asked.

Her face was the most closed off Aradishir had ever seen it, like she was taking great care not to share whatever thoughts were in her head. What could they possibly be? He doubted she was reacting negatively to Bakhtiar. His family might want to kill him on a daily basis, but to everyone else he was bright, charming, beautiful, and captivating. He was all the best and worst parts of their parents, and if he could ever stop acting like a fool, he'd be a magnificent king someday.

"I would love to, but I've only just arrived, and I should get cleaned up and let the royal healer fuss over my leg," Bakhtiar replied, "but perhaps I can see you at lunch, dear princess?"

"Of course," Relanya said with a warm smile that made Aradishir's gut churn. Why couldn't he have had just a little more time? Just one more day?

It didn't matter, though, whether he got one more day, one more week, or just one more hour. Relanya was meant to be queen, to be Bakhtiar's wife. There was no world where she would settle for him, pretending for a moment the thought had ever even crossed her mind.

No longer hungry, he pushed his food away and rose, waving off his harem as they moved to do the same. "I'll help you to your room, Bakhti. Where's your harem?"

"I sent them ahead to our rooms. They were exhausted from all the hard travel."

"You're lucky they don't smother you in your sleep," Aradishir said as he reached him, slinging one of Bakhtiar's arms across his shoulders and taking most of his weight. "Nara, Your Highness, we'll see you later."

He didn't wait for their reply, just hauled Bakhtiar out of there.

"What's the fucking hurry?" Bakhtiar muttered. "I worked hard to get back here so you didn't have to keep doing all this stupid courting stuff for me."

"I'm going to clobber you."

"I haven't done anything!"

"'Courting stuff' like it's a chore and not an honor, you're impossible," Aradishir replied. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself, anyway. What if you cause yourself permanent damage?"

"Then I limp around dramatically the rest of my life."

Aradishir gnashed his teeth and said nothing.

"Seriously, Ari, why are you being so pissy? I haven't done anything to you—or anyone else for that matter. I came home and immediately sought out Her Highness. I would have thought that would please you. Mother sent endless messages about how wonderful and perfect her favorite child continues to be," he added in a mutter.

"I'm not her favorite child!"

Bakhtiar scoffed, but didn't get to reply as the door to his chambers opened and one of his concubines came bursting out. "Bakhti! You said you'd be right behind us, you worthless little liar ." Kurosh, the first of two concubines so far. In keeping with what seemed to be family tradition, taking Kurosh as his concubine had caused a scandal. It wasn't very often, after all, that a crown prince took as lover the man who'd tried to kill him. But nobody adored Bakhti, in all his irritating glory, more than the man currently yelling at him.

"Could everyone stop getting mad at me?" Bakhtiar asked, actually sounding and looking hurt. "I'm exhausted, in a great deal of pain, and I haven't eaten in nearly two days. Could I please be allowed to rest for a little bit before everyone tells me how pissed off they are this time?"

"Sorry," Aradishir muttered. "Come on, let's get you to bed." With Kurosh's help, it was much easier to get him into his room and settled on a long, wide sofa used for reclining. Across the room, his other concubine, Farrokh, was fussing with the refreshment tray servants had already brought. "How are you two?"

"Fine," Kurosh said. "It's good to be home. Now we just have to keep this stubborn ass still long enough to let his leg heal properly ."

"Yeah, yeah." Bakhtiar didn't bother to move his arm from where it was draped over his eyes, or to stir at all, in reaction to the jab. "At least we're no longer in that damned temple where everything seemed determined to poison me."

Aradishir frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Everything he ate made him violently sick," Farrokh said as he joined them, carrying a smaller tray of stuff taken from the large one. "It was most peculiar. There wasn't even one thing in common across all the meals that we could pinpoint as not agreeing with him. It was like whatever was wrong was wrong with all the food, even though the rest of us ate it just fine. Sit up, Bakhti."

"Teacher voice," Aradishir said with a snicker that turned to outright laughter as all three glared at him.

It was true, though. Farrokh had been one of Bakhtiar's tutors, and was nearly ten years older than him. That was hardly scandalous, though, not when one of their father's concubines was half his age—right around their age.

After several minutes, and looking significantly improved—and didn't Aradishir feel like an ass for not realizing just how bad Bakhtiar had looked—Bakhtiar looked at him. "So what had you so angry with me?"

Aradishir almost said nothing, let the matter go, but at the pointed look that earned him, he sighed and relented. "You were so flippant . She's given up so much, risked literally her entire world for this marriage, and you couldn't even bother to buy her gifts. I had to do that! Last minute! Then you show up out of nowhere and act like all is well."

"I wasn't trying to be flippant, I'm sorry."

"You—what?" Since when did Bakhtiar apologize all on his own, without being prodded first? Whatever, didn't matter. Aradishir shook his head. "It's fine, I overreacted. I still can't believe you forgot to buy her presents!"

"I know, I know," Bakhtiar said with a groan. "I appreciate all you've done, I really do. I owe you, Ari. I promise I'll pay my debt."

Biting back all he really wanted to say, the futile demands of a hopeless fool, he instead said, "Get some rest, Bakhti. I'll likely see you at dinner. Try to stay out of trouble."

Bakhtiar rolled his eyes but smiled and waved him off.

Departing, Aradishir retreated to his rooms. He needed to get to work, but surely the world could spare him a bit of time to collect himself, bury his hopeless wishes once and for all, gather the fortitude he needed to meet the expectations of family and court.

Unfortunately, the world could not spare him any sort of time. He wasn't even halfway back to his room when guards came rushing up. "Your Highness! You're needed at once. Some of your contacts in the city have come back hurt."

"Take me to them. Bring Heydar and Merza to me there."

"Yes, Your Highness!" One of the guards ran off, the other showed him through the palace to a lesser used receiving room, likely for the sake of privacy. A healer was also there, tending to the cuts, bruises, and what looked like a broken arm.

Aradishir hissed in dismay. "Are you all right? What happened? Who did this?"

"They had masks, Your Highness, though they spoke with southside accents."

That was a typical place to hire thugs and the sort.

"Found us in our little apartment near the docks, took us by surprise. Said to tell you that next time they won't be so kind, and if you know what's good for you and your people, you'll back off."

The door behind him slid open, and a moment later Heydar was at his right side, Merza at his left, both of them looking intently over the wounded contacts—spies, really—with a deep frown. They stepped forward slightly and started asking all manner of questions, from exact numbers, style of fighting, and more, so many things that Aradishir never would have thought to ask—precisely the reason he'd asked for them to come.

When they had all the information they could possibly think to gather, Aradishir sent his poor people off with the healer and instructions they weren't to go back to work for at least a month.

Once it was just him, Heydar, and Merza, he sat down at the table and spread his hands across it. "This is getting out of control. We need to do something about those merchants. All this because I'm making sure they can't keep trading people . How fucking long is this problem going to be the bane of our kingdom?"

"As long as there are buyers, there will be sellers," Merza said grimly. "It doesn't help that Tavamara is the perfect location, being such a hub for trade, with easy access to the rest of the world."

Aradishir sighed. "I feel like I'm trying to swim up a waterfall with this, but we've no choice but to persevere. One person saved makes all the effort worth it. So tell me what you gleaned from your hundreds of questions."

"Whoever sent them was cheap about it," Merza said. "I could find who did the work easy."

"I don't like you going into danger like that," Aradishir said. "You're supposed to be safe now." His mouth twisted. "Though at that, I suppose being my concubine puts you in more danger than you ever were before."

Merza leaned in to kiss his cheek and nuzzle into the hollow of his neck, breath hot against his skin, leaving it tingling. "I would face this and more to stay by your side, my prince. You know that." He pulled back and grinned. "I'll face assassins all night long if it means coming home and wrapping you in rope before using you as I please."

Aradishir laughed, even as his cheeks grew hot. "Shameless. All right, then. But take Heydar with you. Two is better than one, and his muscles are good for many things." He winked.

Heydar rolled his eyes. "We'll go while you're working, though that leaves Javed to work through the day with few breaks. I'll speak with His Majesty's concubines, so everyone is aware."

"Thank you. Suppose I should get on with the rest of my day."

"Let's return to our chambers first, get you dressed for that. I'm sorry the breakfast did not go well."

Aradishir shrugged, staring at the rug before he set his shoulders, lifted his head, and headed out. "Bakhti is home, that's all that matters."

Heydar and Merza sighed in unison, but at his scowl, held up their hands in surrender and said nothing, only walked with him back to their chambers, where they and Javed helped him dress for another day of meetings, interviews, and socializing with powerful people.

His first official meeting was, conveniently, with some of the very merchants that were likely behind the attack on his contacts. Which reminded him that someone here in the palace must have let that knowledge slip. Someone close, a servant or a guard who'd caught sight of one private meeting or another. So easy to overlook their ubiquitous presence.

Javed fell into place at his side as they left his room, the others slipping away through the secret passages to speak with his father's concubines before departing.

Out in the hallway, Javed stopped them, though, and turned to the guards. "I'd like you both to attend His Highness today. His contacts in the city were nearly killed today, and you're the only two guards I entirely trust right now. We fear they might grow bolder in their attacks, and some of the perpetrators will be at the meeting we're to attend in a few minutes."

"Of course, Lord Javed," one guard replied, followed by the other adding, "It is our honor to serve, Your Highness."

"I appreciate it, deeply," Aradishir replied quietly. "Let's hope your presence is enough of a deterrent that nobody else gets hurt today." The guards fell into place around them, along with a couple of others who were silently ordered to as they headed down the hallway.

The guards at his door were always a rotation of the same eight, two on duty at all times. They'd been the same guards for the past ten years, a duty not granted lightly and only with the personal approval of the king or queen. According to his siblings, his mother had interrogated all eight of them at great length, given absolutely no quarter before she had decided upon them. His father had handled the guards that watched his siblings; why his mother had taken care of his, Aradishir still didn't know. Likely just a matter of his father being busy and such, as was so often the case.

They turned onto the hallway where the meeting room he needed was located—and Aradishir drew to a startled halt to see Relanya there, surrounded by her handmaidens, right outside the door of the room he was headed for. Shouldn't she be with Bakhtiar? What was going on?