Chapter Text
The sailor was bigger than Zen, and inch by inch his weight was defeating Zen’s strength, the knife closer to his throat with every passing moment. He’d thought traveling on a neutral ship would be safe, but Tanbarun’s spymasters cast their net wider than he'd hoped.
His legs were trapped, no room to attack with knees, no leeway to do anything with his arms but push upwards. “Breathe,” Obi said in his memory, and he gasped for air. Any second now he’d find an opening, something would create a chance. He hoped. It was getting harder to deceive himself any further, though, he was here without backup, without a partner, and that knife was going to cut his throat. The end of the Snowdrop and Zen Wisteria.
His attacker gasped and arched, lifting his eyes from where he’d been staring Zen down with a rotten-toothed grin, and his weight shifted just enough. Zen heaved with one hip, writhing out of the way as the knife plummeted, biting deep into the deck just in front of his face. Lady Derya skittered away, Zen’s knife in her hand. He really needed a new partner, when he was having to count on rescued nobles to give him openings.
He rolled over and slammed his elbow into the attacker’s temple, then tore at his belt with numb fingers and knelt on the gasping man to cinch his elbows tight. Another breath, and Zen tipped back to sit on the deck, nauseous and elated with continued survival. His stomach felt bruised, his arms prickling with the return of blood. The ship was still silent, only the creak of wood and ropes and the splash of the ocean to hear.
A quiet step to his right made him jump, but it was just Lady Derya coming back to check on him. “Are you all right?”
Zen heaved a sigh. “I will be in a moment.” He nodded to the knife still clutched in her hand, her knuckles white upon the hilt. “Thanks for the distraction, I was running out of ideas.”
Lady Derya blushed lightly, watching him like he was the center of the world. His blood sang with the aftermath of the fight; he was alive, and every fiber of him felt it. He basked in it for just a second, then hauled himself to his feet. The captain, at least, knew who was paying the bills. He wouldn't be thrilled to be awakened at this hour, but he'd clean up the problem.
Striding across the deck, Zen patted the letter tucked away in his shirt. It rustled reassuringly, still there. The rest of the papers were locked in his cabin, but this one was far too important to risk. He had a lady and the future of the king of Clarines in his charge, and nothing was going to get in his way.
Fanned across Izana’s desk, months of their spies’ hard work looked like nothing more than scrap paper. Some were coded, pretending to be love letters or purchase orders. Some were stained with salt water or food or blood. Zen’s team had sacrificed for them, lives lived in secret in a hostile country for love of their home. It was humbling.
The most important letter sat alone, a simple piece of stationary that looked far too harmless for the vicious glares Zen directed at it. There was no signature, no seal, nothing to indicate the sender or recipient. Zen didn’t even know whether it was meant to have ended up in Tanbarun or not, having taken it off a Tanbarunian spy at the border. The problem with knocking someone out and ransacking their belongings meant everything you found lacked context.
“We can’t just let this go, we have to act!” He wanted to pace, to work out his roiling blood with movement. Izana’s relaxed posture was frustrating, his inaction an insult.
The daily business of Tanbarun went on as usual, but underneath the surface currents were stirring. A newspaper clipping claimed a mysterious masked figure was running amok in the capital. A list of figures detailed weekly coup attempts, the Transitional Committee members clinging to power by the slightest of chances. Half of the members hadn’t been seen in public in months. Three were rumored to be dead, but their offices continued on. Orders were signed, laws were enacted. A smuggled draft suggested that the death sentence for former nobles might be lifted soon. Zen would believe that when he saw it.
And someone wanted his brother dead. “Let me go back to the border, I’ll trace him back and track where the letter came from. I’ll hunt him down if I have to!”
Izana moved at last, but only to uncross his legs. “You’re not leaving Wistal, not now.”
“But-”
“No.” That was Izana’s His Majesty voice. “I need you here. This is your responsibility as prince, and if I can’t trust you to make it your priority, perhaps we need to discuss whether the Snowdrop is required any longer.”
Zen took a deep breath, trying to force the agitation out with the air. Izana just waited. Someday they’d grow out of being the little prince and the big brother forced into their father’s place, but not today. “Yes, brother, I will fulfill my responsibilities.” As always.
“Is being my second such a heavy burden, little brother?” The windows behind the desk were wide open to catch the unseasonably warm breeze, and Izana’s mood shifted like the clouds, now playful at the thought of his wedding. Zen tensed his jaw again. He got the point, and of course he wouldn't want to miss his brother's wedding, but he was not in the mood for this. He stood with Zakura, ignoring what was likely the last nice day of the fall, and helped make plans for the largest event of Izana’s reign. There was so much yet to do.
“At least Tanbarun’s revolutionary elements are too busy with their own problems to interfere.” Izana waved at the letters once more, intimidation and conflict already in the past.
“Maybe,” argued Zakura, always the pessimist.
“There are enough rumors coming from within our own borders, even without Tanbarunian plots,” Izana replied mildly. “We are treating the threats as credible and both of you are needed to secure the safety of our guests. It’s too much to ask Zakura alone.” Zakura twitched at that, clearly wishing he could protest, but he’d long since learned better than to argue with Izana.
“The king wanted your input before we finalized the security arrangements,” Zakura said to Zen, his tone making obvious his disapproval of how irresponsibly long that had postponed the decisions. “You are the only one of us who's ever infiltrated a castle.” A smile peeked through the flatness of his voice, almost proud.
Izana leaned forward onto his elbow, curious. “How would you do it? If you had to break into Wistal?”
Of all the times to go blank, in front of his brother and the knight he'd looked up to since the day Izana brought him home. “I've never thought about breaking in. I’ll need some time.”
“Do that, then. See what we should be protecting ourselves against, and tomorrow morning we'll finalize plans.” There was less than a week to the wedding, the earliest guests already arriving. It really was last-minute. Izana nodded to dismiss Zen, and he bowed himself out with relief.
In the hallway, he clenched his fists. He should be glad of the break, a chance to rest, let his spies work, maybe figure out a new partner. Enjoy his brother’s wedding. Make sure his brother survives his wedding, he reminded himself, setting himself to imagining how the Snowdrop would sneak into Wistal. Zen had always been focused on the way out.
He never had asked Obi how he got in and out, had he? He probably went over the walls, an option not open to most mere mortals. The walls were high and slick, and even Zen hadn’t ever tried them. The guards were well-trained and the staff compact enough that strangers’ faces were noticed. Wistal was far from the leaky sieve that Tanbarun’s Government Center had proven to be.
But, for the wedding, the guards would be augmented with soldiers from across the kingdom. There would be any number of extra staff brought on for the event, plus the entourages accompanying every noble. There would be event after event for diversions, but no easy routine to exploit. His head started to hurt just cataloguing the factors, and before he knew it, he’d come to a complete distracted stop in the hall.
“Your Highness?” He jumped, cape swinging as he twisted to face the voice. He already knew he’d overreacted before he regained his balance, and turned what could have been a graceful landing into a stumble. It wouldn’t do to look too capable.
He had to strangle a wince as he met Kihal Toghrul’s eyes. She was smiling up at him from her awkward curtsey. The motion didn’t suit her, an opinion she clearly agreed with. She looked less out of place than she had in her first visit, short pants replaced by an unremarkable dress and hair twisted up into a court hairstyle. Zen really didn’t understand this sudden mania for giant hairstyles among the court ladies. It really looked awkward and uncomfortable, particularly for hair as long as Kihal’s. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Miss Toghrul,” he acknowledged formally. “Are you here for the wedding?”
“I am!” Her eyes sparkled. “The king invited my father as tribal leader, but he can’t make the journey, so he sent me in his place. We’re so happy the king chose to involve us.”
The court formalities felt like ashes in his mouth. He liked Kihal, but she knew he wasn’t the useless prince he pretended to be. He couldn’t risk being close to her. “The birds have been a huge help to the army. Thank you again for all your help with that. Has Brecker been behaving himself?”
Kihal’s face clouded. “I'm not entirely sure. He's left the birds alone, and honestly we haven't seen that much of him, but that’s suspicious enough on its own.”
Silently, Zen agreed. Brecker always had some kind of scheme going and the Toghruls kept a close eye on him, but since the incident with the birds, nothing had been serious enough to involve the crown.
But Kihal was too sunny a person to dwell on Brecker for long absent any actual wrongdoing. “Is Shirayuki going to be here?”
He knew the answer. Shirayuki and Obi were due sometime within the next day and they’d be staying for the duration of the wedding. He could tell Kihal that. But he shouldn’t do it, couldn’t let her think they’re friends. “I need to be going, Miss Toghrul. Enjoy the wedding.” He turned and left her standing there.
Alone in his office at last, he stared at the wall. At this rate he’d have nobody left but Kiki and Mitsuhide. And Izana, he had to remind himself. That was three people around him who knew who he really was. “How long until who you are turns into who you pretend to be?” he asked himself, and he had no answer.
A day of prodding at Wistal’s security holes was almost fun, a last gasp before the real work began. Then it was welcomes, trade delegation after marquis after ambassador. His back ached and he wanted a run like nobody's business, but it was gratifying to see so many people arriving happy and prosperous. Clarines was doing well. It made the hassles of paperwork and endless parties worthwhile.
Zen never would have expected to count Raj Schenezade as a friend. Someone to negotiate treaties with, someone to tolerate at dinner parties, but certainly not someone he'd have lounging around his office complaining about women. And yet, ever since Raj decided that his only hope for a future was to marry rich and every lady of substance in all of Clarines was there for the wedding, this was nearly a daily occurrence. Zen would never admit out loud how much he actually enjoyed it.
“How about miss Nari?” Raj lay back on the sofa, holding up a glass ball that usually sat decoratively on a side table. Rainbows bounced around the room from the reflections.
Zen didn't even look up from his report. “Already engaged.”
“Huh. I wouldn't have known.”
Zen just hummed. He was not going to be the one to explain what an impossible flirt she was. Zakura was trying to cover all the wedding minutiae himself, but the task list was frankly more than one man could handle. Zen ended up with the strangest odds and ends every time he could convince Zakura to share. Today he was preparing expedited clearance requests to make sure all the flowers would be in place just in time and not get caught up at the gates. All this paperwork for flowers. A footrace over rooftops in Tanbarun was starting to sound preferable, but duty was duty.
Raj was still mumbling. “How about miss Seiran? I don't think I've met her. Could you introduce me?”
Even the strictest protocol master would forgive Zen’s answering snort. Mitsuhide, deep in a ledger across the room, looked up just long enough to smirk. “Oh, you've met. She rescued you, in fact.”
Raj’s eyebrows tried to escape into his hair. “Her?” He considered for a few breaths. “Does she dance?”
Zen lost hold of the laughter he'd been suppressing. He really needed that. “No!” When he could manage more than a single strangled word, he added, “and she's spoken for too.”
Mitsuhide took a lot more interest in that statement. “More or less,” Zen clarified. Mitsuhide still looked unimpressed. Zen reminded himself to have another talk with Kiki. Mitsuhide still probably thought he’d meant Hisame.
Raj lay there quietly for another few minutes, twirling the prism and watching the light long enough for Zen to finish all the flower clearances. He set aside the pile of documents and moved onto the next job, carriage traffic control. He was sketching a rough castle grounds map to work with when Raj spoke up again. “Has the king told you about what he intends to do about Tanbarun?” Zen had never heard him so uncertain. “Keeping me here and allowing . . . you . . . is not exactly an acceptance of the Committee, but at the same time he welcomed their ambassador.”
“Who we’re now holding in house arrest,” Zen bristled.
Raj sighed, sitting up. “I just don’t know, in the long run, what to expect. Is he going to send me back at the head of an army? Or in chains? Let me stay? Send me to Ivora?”
“Do you know what you want?”
“I want to know Eugena and Rona are all right.” He’d written to Eugena, but the letter wouldn’t have even arrived in Ivora yet. There’d been no news of Rona for nearly a year. “I should say I want my kingdom back. I should want my kingdom back.” What little composure he’d manage to scrape together deflated, leaving him looking very small and alone. “While I was in hiding I saw some terrible things, things my father did. I learned the burdens we were placing on our subjects, and I think . . .” He trailed off, swallowing. “We were not doing a very good job. Do I hate the committee and what they’ve done? Yes. But would I be any better as king? I don’t know. I just want it to not be my problem anymore.”
“You wouldn’t sentence an entire social class to death,” Zen growled. Raj looked like he wanted to argue, but the argument had left him too shaky to continue. Some actions were just unforgivable. Whatever Raj ended up doing, Zen would never accept the Republic of Tanbarun as legitimate. He looked down to find he’d stabbed his pen right through his map.
Mitsuhide’s interruption was a relief. “Zen, your next appointment is in a few minutes. Will we be seeing you at the social hour this evening, Your Highness?”
Raj twisted to face him, already rebuilding his mask. “Of course! How could I deprive the eligible ladies of my presence?” His groan as he heaved himself up from the sofa and dragged toward the door belied his flippant voice.
A knock sounded at the door just as Raj’s hand landed on the doorknob, so he was face to face with Obi when he pulled it open. Obi’s smile was bright and genuine. “Your highness! Glad to see you settled in here.”
Raj’s attempted smile twitched at the corners. “I wouldn’t call it settled, but I am indeed here.” His voice dropped to an undertone as he scanned the hall outside. “Thanks to you. I owe you a debt I have no power to repay, and I will not forget that.”
Obi waved it off with a courteous bow. “Shirayuki will be happy to see you as well, Your highness.” It was still strange to hear Shirayuki’s name coming from his mouth. Zen forced back his reflexive flinch. He was going to be over her. Anything less wasn’t fair to either of them. He was happy for his friends. He was.
“I won’t take up your time, just wanted to let you know I was here.” Just having Obi in the room made it lighter, even as the door shut behind him.
“Nonsense, come sit, stay a while!”
“I don’t really want to leave Shirayuki alone for long on our first day back here. She says she’s fine, but -” He paused, probably rethinking pointing out that everyone in the room already knew what she was like. “I don’t know how everyone’s going to react, and I don’t want her overthinking everything.”
“We’ll see you tonight, then.” No way was he getting out of this event. “It’ll be nice to see you in your full regalia, Captain.” Obi wilted as Mitsuhide and Zen grinned.
The night’s social didn’t involve dancing. Zen thanked Izana for small favors. In a gesture prompted by the current atmosphere in the country, Izana’s wedding invitation list included far more commoners than his coronation had. There were representatives from the guilds, prominent merchants, and the mayors of the largest cities. High-ranking military officers were attending as guests rather than working. Zen discerned Haki’s hand in the number of eminent scientists in the room. The purpose of these evening socials was to get the nobles and commoners, the mayors and scientists, the merchants and soldiers to meet. From the look of the insular clots making up the crowd, it wasn't working easily. He was in for a long evening.
Tsuruba Bergatt thought he could skip out early, but Zen recruited him for backup as he worked the room. He’d been making a project of normalizing relations with the Bergatts ever since Touka’s treachery; for all the efforts the crown had gone through to bury the evidence, the northern nobles still found out. Every time he and Tsuruba approached a group containing any of the northerners, they slipped away before introductions were finished. Thankfully, the rest of the country didn’t care, and a polite and handsome young lord was well-positioned to be well-liked, no matter what his elder brother may or may not have tried to do.
They avoided the knot around Obi and Shirayuki, which included two northern nobles, Garrack Gazelt, and the representative from the Sereg Knights. They were doing good work without his distraction. Raj was doing the same with a handful of border nobles and sea merchants.
They were chatting with two young women somehow associated with the cloth trade when Kihal came into view, trying to catch Zen’s attention. It was easy enough to leave Tsuruba to distract her and flee, joining Lady Haki where she was teasing her brother in front of a couple of landed knights. She had a gift of putting people at ease, a good complement to everything that was Izana. Zen thoroughly enjoyed watching his brother meet his match and looked forward to her officially joining the family.
Speaking of Izana, he was nowhere to be found. Zen scanned the dais, the sea of heads, but there was no sign of him. He was late to his own party. Of course.