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Chapter Text

Cliopher fell to his knees across from Commander Omo, who had his hands firmly clasped over his Radiancy's breast and was pumping up and down with a steady focus, his hands adjusting minutely with each motion to account for the slippery silk of his Radiancy's tunic.

Tears burned in Cliopher's eyes at the surreal stillness in his Radiancy's form; the only movement caused by the sure motions of the man trying to save him. Save him. His Radiancy was dying. 

"My lord," Cliopher cried, pleading in a tone he'd never imagined using with the Lord of Rising Stars. "Please. You can't go. Not now." He heard the desperation in his voice and in his words, and knew it was less than a grain of sand next to the tidal wave that was the universe itself. If the universe wanted the Sun-on-Earth, what could he, Cliopher Mdang, possibly do to keep him?

As he continued to beg, passionately, desperately, Cliopher couldn't see the stricken expressions of the others in the study. Pikabe, guarding the door, eyes wide with confusion and concern, holding his spear crosswise in a white knuckled grip. Conju, standing at Commander Omo's back looking lost, trembling in consternation and fear. All Cliopher could see was his lord's utterly motionless form—and Ludvic's hands pressing repeatedly down on his chest.

"Please, my lord. My - Tor," Cliopher demanded, his words aching with love, his heart with grief. "We need you." He paused long, thoughts trying to catch themselves behind his teeth and lips. The words came anyway, a quiet whisper echoing loud in the near-silent study: "I need you."

Everyone froze in the wake of his words. Filled with every kind of emotion, Cliopher didn't care that the words were tantamount to treason. All he cared was that—

Under Commander Omo's hands, his Radiancy gasped for air and reached…

Ludvic dove out of the way, but his Radiancy wasn't focused on him. A crack, reminiscent of lighting, cut through the study and Cliopher all at once, sparkling with heat and fire. Searing pain jolted through his arms, blinding him for a long moment. When his vision cleared, Cliopher found his Radiancy's long fingers wrapped tight around his forearms. He gasped and looked up, meeting his lord's bright eyes—too bright and full of anguish. "Cliopher," his Radiancy murmured.

Pushing the pain aside, an easy task given his familiarity with the bite of fire from practicing the fire dance, Cliopher said, "I am here, my lord."

The Sun-on-Earth's breath came in sharp, shallow bursts. "Cliopher," he demanded, frantic. "Don't let them take me."

Cliopher's heart ached at the fear lacing his Radiancy's plea. "I am here, my lord," he repeated, refusing to be anything but confident. "I won't let them take you. I won't."

"Cliopher," his Radiancy repeated. "Cliopher."

Without thinking, Cliopher flipped his hands over and grasped his Radiancy's bare forearms without dislodging his lord's tight grip on his own. He trembled as his palms and fingers burned, shutting his eyes against the new pain and squeezing his lord gently. "I am here, my lord," he said for a third time. "I have you. You are safe. I won't let anyone take you."

As Cliopher quavered beneath the weight of his promise, the Sun-on-Earth seemed to come back to himself. He met Cliopher's gaze with an intense focus, as if trying to delve deep into his soul, and then looked down—saw where his hands were, saw where Cliopher's hands were. "Oh," the Lord of Rising Stars gasped, dropping his hands as if holding a burning coal.

Cliopher immediately released his own grip, moving to tuck his hands against his stomach. Before he could, his Radiancy grabbed one of his wrists and pulled it closer. "What have I done?" the Sun-on-Earth murmured, staring at Cliopher's arm. 

Distress permeated his lord's words, and guilt. Cliopher could almost feel the wrenching ache of it, worse than the burning touch of his Radiancy's fingertips on his skin—a sensation he was already growing accustomed to. Or, perhaps, the pain of the shattered taboo was lessening with each subsequent touch. Pushing the uncertainty aside, he followed his Radiancy's gaze, expecting to find severe burns. Instead, gold fingerprints dotted his forearms, glowing with a soft, luminescent light; his palms were even more striking, painted brilliant gold from when he’d grabbed his lord.

Cliopher stared, captivated. The marks of his lord's attention were astonishingly beautiful. He met his Radiancy’s anxious eyes. "You didn't hurt me, my lord" he said very gently.

"No lightning?" His Radiancy assessed Cliopher up and down as if to make sure he was really all there. 

"No, my lord." It seemed a rhetorical question, but Cliopher answered it anyway, feeling his lord’s need for reassurance. 

The marks didn't hurt anymore, he realized, glancing to where his Radiancy still cradled one of his hands. He could feel the fingerprints; they resonated with a frisson of energy and something more. Shutting his eyes, he tried to focus on the feeling, but couldn't separate it from the deep ache in his chest and head or from the bone-weary exhaustion pressing down on him. Cliopher bit his lip hard to disperse the fatigue, then opened his eyes again to find his Radiancy watching him, noticeably concerned.

Determining the impact to himself would have to wait, Cliopher decided. His Radiancy's health was far more important. "My lord," Cliopher said gently, bringing the conversation back to where it needed to be. "How do you feel? Can I call for your physician?"

His Radiancy swallowed visibly, eyes still caught on the gold marks he'd left on Cliopher's hands and arms, but then he nodded.

"I'll send a page," Conju said, reminding Cliopher that they weren't alone. 

"Thank you, Conju.” As Conju turned towards the door, Cliopher met Ludvic's steady gaze across his Radiancy’s dishevelled form. How the commander could be so calm, he didn't know. His own hands were trembling, his heart racing. "What else can we do for you, my lord?" he asked, forcing his attention back to his lord.

"Bed," his Radiancy answered.

"Shouldn't we wait until Domina Audry comes?" 

"Bed," his Radiancy repeated, this time more demanding.

Cliopher glanced back to Ludvic, who shrugged slightly as if to say an order was an order. "Will you let me help you, my lord?"

His Radiancy glanced down to where he still held Cliopher's wrist. "Yes," he agreed, radiating with an emotion Cliopher couldn't recognize. 

Cliopher moved to stand, but was stymied by his lord's hold. "You will need to let go for a moment," he said softly. 

His Radiancy frowned, then slowly released his fingers. Once freed, Cliopher rose to his feet, then immediately turned to offer his lord a hand. The Sun-on-Earth stared at it, uncomprehending. "Can I help you stand, my lord?"

His Radiancy let out a sharp breath, staring intently at him for a long moment before tentatively grasping the outstretched hand. Cliopher schooled his face to calm, but the new touch generated less than a spark on his already well-marked skin. Carefully, he pulled his Radiancy to his feet. As the Sun-on-Earth swayed worryingly, Cliopher drew his lord's arm across his shoulders. "Are you alright, my lord?" 

 His Radiancy let out a small huff. "I expect I should be asking you that, my dear Kip."

"I'm fine, my lord," Cliopher said, ignoring the heat of a new gold mark searing the back of his neck. "Come. Let's get you to your bed before your physician comes and shouts at me for moving you." His Radiancy tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it.

Cliopher shuffled them towards the ivory door one heavy step at a time, carrying as much of his lord's weight as he could. His own legs wobbled in sympathy.

Conju hurried ahead to open the door, while Ludvic hovered at their back, prepared to step in should his strength be needed. Pikabe came last of all, spear held at the ready.

The journey to his Radiancy's bedchamber took more time than some Council of Princes meetings, but finally they crossed the threshold. Cliopher guided his Radiancy into the room, even as Conju rushed to tie back the foamwork curtains, pull open the opaque panels, and draw the coverlet to the foot of the bed. As Conju stepped away, Cliopher helped his lord sit on the edge of the bed. Once certain the Lord of Rising Stars wouldn't fall, Cliopher glanced at Conju for direction. 

"My lord," his friend said, stepping close. "Can Cliopher help you take off your robes? You'll be more comfortable."

His Radiancy shifted his attention from Cliopher to Conju, then down to his gold and white and black robes. "Please," he asked, almost inaudibly, holding his arms out to Cliopher; they trembled in exhaustion. 

Cliopher, not familiar with undressing someone else–particularly not his lord and emperor–was glad Ludvic had either untied or cut the robes so that he could give his Radiancy cardiac thrusts. All Cliopher had to do was guide his Radiancy's arms out of the sleeves and then tug the robes gently away, leaving his lord in the loose silk tunic and trousers he'd been wearing underneath. He carefully pulled off his lord's sandals, then helped him lay down. His Radiancy sank into the pillows with a long sigh, before reaching out. "Cliopher?"

Cliopher, in the process of backing away, froze. "My lord?" 

"Ha…" his Radiancy whispered. "Ha…" His questing hand made it clear exactly what he wanted. Cliopher hurried to respond, stepping forward to offer his hand. His Radiancy grasped it tightly. There were no new prickles of fire this time, just the warmth of his Radiancy's touch and the sudden feeling of comfort, of rightness.

His Radiancy pulled him closer. "Cliopher," he said softly, pressing Cliopher's hand against his cheek. Cliopher tried not to smile at the softness in his Radiancy's expression. Surely, the Sun-on-Earth had no idea what he was doing. Surely.

His Radiancy shifted towards the centre of the bed, tugging Cliopher intently. Startled, Cliopher looked back to his friends, hovering just out of reach. Conju made a shooing motion. Ludvic's expression was stoic, but there was a brilliant twinkle in his eye. Cliopher raised his eyebrows but the commander simply shrugged.

Etiquette, of course, said to do as the Lord of Rising Stars asked, so Cliopher crawled onto the large bed awkwardly, his good hand caught in his Radiancy's fierce grip. Once on the bed, Cliopher sat cross-legged, committed to remaining professional. His Radiancy had other ideas; between one moment and the next, Cliopher found his lap full of emperor, his lord's head firmly planted in the curl of his legs. His Radiancy released Cliopher's hand, only to stretch his arms around Cliopher's waist instead. "Ahh," the Sun-on-Earth whispered, wriggling slightly before settling.

Cliopher held himself inordinately still, mouth gaping at the unexpected shift between the aloof and untouchable Radiancy and the man desperately clinging to him for comfort. Surely his Radiancy would be no end of embarrassed when he was back to his right mind and health. But for the moment, his lord's breathing was slightly less gasping and the lights no longer flickered dangerously. That said all Cliopher needed to know about what the emperor in his lap needed.

Determining one more treason wouldn't matter in the eyes of those who would have condemned him three times over by now, Cliopher pressed the palm of his hand very gently against the back of the Sun-on-Earth's neck and said, "I am here, my lord."

His Radiancy shuddered once, then, as if he'd been waiting for just that reassurance, slipped into sleep.

***

Cliopher watched his lord sleep in stunned silence. His entire body trembled with exhaustion as the contentment and rhythmic breathing of his Radiancy threatened to pull him under. Refusing to let it, he lifted his head to take in the rest of the room.

Conju stood a bare few steps away, Ludvic at his side, while Pikabe—joined by Ato at some point—guarded the door. All four watchers stared at Cliopher; no, they stared at his Radiancy sprawled over him like a cat, holding fast to him like to rock in a storm. Cliopher's cheeks warmed. 

"His Radiancy's physician?" Cliopher asked, keeping his voice low, trying not to wonder what they were thinking.

"Domina Audry is outside, but—" Commander Omo studied Cliopher intently. "I think it best she remain there for now." 

"Ahh," Cliopher managed, glancing down to the Sun-on-Earth filling his lap. "At least his Radiancy appears to be breathing better.”

"And the lights have stopped flickering. That must be a positive sign."

"He seems quite comfortable for the moment," Conju added, meeting Cliopher's eyes. His tense expression softened into worry and concern. "How are you feeling, Cliopher?" 

Cliopher shook his head wearily, mind fogged with exhaustion despite it being early afternoon. He lifted his hands from his Radiancy and tilted them enough so his friends could see the marks as well as he could. Shimmering gold covered both palms entirely and parts of each finger. Well defined handprints marked both of his forearms from when his Radiancy had first grabbed him, additional fingerprints dotting his skin from the subsequent contacts.

"Strange," he admitted, staring at the marks. "Buzzing with energy but exhausted." He rubbed his chest with one hand, letting his other drop back to rest on his Radiancy's neck. He blinked hard, working to push the haziness away. 

"Perhaps Rhodin could help?" Ludvic suggested. "He has a small gift for magic. He might be able to sense what's happening to you."

Left unsaid: how badly the touch of the Sun-on-Earth might be affecting Cliopher. He hadn't been struck by lightning, but that didn't mean he was safe from ramifications. He'd broken the greatest of the Imperial taboos, broken it many times over. Was still breaking it. Trying not to focus on the warmth of his Radiancy pressed against him, Cliopher nodded in acquiescence.

"I'll fetch him," Ludvic said. "Conju?"

"I'm not going anywhere. They’re in safe hands.”

"I'll only be a moment." Ludvic headed to the door, stopping to say something inaudible to Pikabe and Ato before slipping out. 

As the room quieted, Cliopher found himself drawn back into his Radiancy's breathing, each soft puff of air seeping through him like a lapping wave. With his lord’s every breath resonating through him with whispers of comfort, of security, of safety, Cliopher drifted off on a sea of warm delight.

***

"Cliopher's reflecting his Radiancy's state," someone said—Rhodin, Cliopher determined fuzzily. "His Radiancy must be exhausted from his ordeal, so Cliopher is too.”

"Should we separate them?" Ludvic asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

"I'm not sure it would matter. As far as I can tell, it’s radiating through the marks. Even apart, Cliopher might feel him." Rhodin took a breath loud enough Cliopher could hear both the inhale and slow exhale. 

"Ahh," Ludvic said. "This must be related to the broken taboo. Can you tell if the effect will last?"

"I can’t say for certain,” Rhodin answered. “Before the fall, Cliopher would have died quickly. His Radiancy hasn't touched any one since then, so I doubt anyone, even among the Ouranatha, would be able to say for certain.”

There was another long pause, filled with soft footsteps as someone—Rhodin, Cliopher assumed—stepped closer.

“And the miasma of magic I'm seeing isn't simply the tapestry of schooled magic bindings pulled out of alignment—it's more wild, more chaotic than that. It might have started with the broken taboo, but now…I expect his Radiancy is the only one who will be able to figure out what's happening."

Cliopher managed to raise his eyelids, to lift the weight that was his head slightly until he could see his friends standing at the side of his Radiancy’s extraordinarily large bed. While Rhodin and Ludvic were the only ones speaking, Conju was with them too, twisting his hands nervously, visibly concerned. "Rhodin," Cliopher mumbled, drawing their immediate attention.

"Cliopher," Rhodin said quietly, assuredly. "Did you hear what I told Commander Omo? You're feeling his Radiancy's exhaustion. I expect it's strange, but for now I don't think it's cause for concern. Let yourself sleep if you need to."

"Shouldn't," Cliopher whispered. Not in his Radiancy's bed, with his Radiancy's head in his lap. He had to stay professional. Anything less would make the situation untenable once his lord recovered.

Conju at least seemed to understand his concern. "How about I get some pillows for you to lean against, Cliopher? That should make you more comfortable. You might be there for a while."

"Please," Cliopher managed.

Conju nodded kindly, then hurried into the dressing room. A few minutes later he returned with a half-dozen large pillows. With practiced ease, he arranged them behind Cliopher, keeping his hands well away from where his Radiancy's arms were wrapped around Cliopher's waist. Once the pillows were situated to his satisfaction, Conju smiled. "You should be able to lean back now, my friend."

Cliopher sagged backwards, the pile of pillows catching him in their embrace, but bracing him up enough not to disrupt his Radiancy's position or suggest he was in any way lying down in the Sun-on-Earth’s bed. "Thank you, Conju," he whispered.

Enjoying the softness of the pillows and the serenity of the emperor asleep in his lap, Cliopher brushed his fingertips gently over his lord's temple and smooth head. The motion was near surreal, dreamlike. A dream seemed the only possible explanation for why he was now sitting so comfortably in Radiancy's bed when he’d spent the morning rushing around prior to his meeting with Kiri. Kiri. "Ludvic!"

"I’m right here,” the commander said. “What do you need, Cliopher?"

"Someone must make an announcement," Cliopher told him, working to pour his broken thoughts into a vase that could hold them together. "Kiri. Tell her to say his Radiancy's had a heart attack, but is recovering. That there'll be another update tomorrow."

"I will do that right now, Cliopher," Ludvic assured him. "Now lay back and rest. His Radiancy obviously needs it—and if he can feel you the way you seem to be feeling him…"

Then Cliopher might wake him with his concern. In no way did he want to do that. Zunidh needed his Radiancy to recover, whatever happened to him. Cliopher shut his eyes. It wasn't difficult to let the tide of exhaustion take him again, to fall deeper into the comfortable pillows, to enjoy the warm weight of his lord holding him close…

Chapter Text

Cliopher burst from a sound sleep, his eyes flying open at the intense distress pouring through him. He bolted upright, scanning every which way for the source of sudden alarm, only to be brought up short by a pair of brilliant, too-bright golden eyes inches away—staring at him in complete shock.

"Cliopher?” his Radiancy said, uncertainty infusing his name with a question.  “What’s going on?" His lord’s confusion was a match for his own, before Cliopher finally remembered where he was. In his Radiancy’s bedchamber. In his Radiancy’s bed . 

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the Sun-on-Earth continued to gaze at him in slack-jawed bewilderment, as if working to connect the dots of any scenario that could possibly have resulted in anyone in his bed, much less Cliopher. His Radiancy seemed particularly unwell on top of his obvious consternation; his face was drawn, a slight glean of sweat shimmered on his forehead, and his hands—raised almost protectively between them—were shaking.

"My sincere apologies, my lord," Cliopher said awkwardly, desperately wanting to relieve his lord’s discomfiture and his own. Freed from his Radiancy's obviously unknowing grasp, he shifted backwards as quickly as he could, only to find the edge of the bed quite unexpectedly. He released a startled gasp as he tumbled off, landing in an inelegant sprawl on the floor.

Embarrassed, sore, and unable to draw two thoughts into coherent order, Cliopher shifted into a full obeisance. It was a safe choice and one that meant he could avoid looking at the Sun-on-Earth for a moment. Feeling him was a different matter. The sense of his lord permeated through him like a misting cloud; he was certain the stunned concern wasn’t his, but couldn’t separate it from his own sense of self. Not looking at his Radiancy didn’t help with that at all. If anything, it made him even more aware of his lord’s shifting feelings—startlement shifting to puzzlement, concern taking on a hint of apprehension. Below the emotional turmoil, a dull ache throbbed through his chest, along with a stultifying weakness that had Cliopher leaning his forehead into the coolness of the floor to ground himself.

“I seem to have missed something important," his Radiancy said, his voice weak and thready, yet conveying his desire for illumination.

"You had a heart attack, my lord," Commander Omo said firmly, saving Cliopher from having to explain. The commander of the guard stood at attention near the door to his Radiancy’s dressing room, Rhodin and Conju by his side. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye showed Varro and Zerafin now guarding the doors, suggesting at least a handful of hours had passed since he’d fallen asleep.

"Ahhh." Cliopher felt his lord’s dawning recognition, even as his Radiancy said “…I was in my study.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

"I suppose that explains why I feel like I've been stomped on by an elephant."

"Yes, my lord,” Ludvic agreed. “I gave you cardiac thrusts. Once you were breathing again, you insisted on moving to your bed."

"But that doesn't explain–" Cliopher felt his lord’s attention shift back to him. “Really, Cliopher, do get up.” 

Cliopher couldn’t help but smile at his Radiancy’s exasperation. He rose wearily to his feet, trying to adjust his robes into some semblance of order, wincing at the multitude of wrinkles criss-crossing the silk. Feonie would not be impressed.

He felt his Radiancy’s shock like a cold knife in his gut more than he heard the sharp gasp. “I did that to you,” his Radiancy whispered, distraught, struggling to move from the middle of the grandiose bed to the edge, perhaps to get a closer view. Cliopher tried to meet his eyes, but his lord wasn’t looking at his face, but at the array of gold marks covering his hands and forearms. “Oh, my dear Kip,” he said, softly, exuding distress.

"It’s nothing, my lord," Cliopher rushed to reassure him. "I am fine."

"How?" The word was quiet, but the order was clear enough to make Cliopher's stomach twist. His heart stuttered. Letting out a sharp breath, he tried again to meet his Radiancy’s eyes, but failed. His lord’s attention remained firmly on the near-luminescent marks on his skin. "When you had your heart attack, you were in pain, agony. You reached out…It's my fault, my lord. I wasn't expecting it and I didn't move in time.”

His Radiancy's eyes widened. "I could have killed you!" 

"But you didn't, my lord. Please don’t worry about it. The marks don't even hurt anymore."

Cliopher felt a rush of disbelief. His Radiancy raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"I wouldn't lie about something like that, my lord," Cliopher said. " I promise. The marks did sting for a moment, but I have felt far worse. Receiving these was nothing like stepping on hot coals."

As distractions went, it was a good one. "When did you step on hot coals, my dear Kip?" his Radiancy asked.

Cliopher gave a rueful smile. "It's a long story of the sea to tell it, my lord. But the short of it is I was young and my great uncle Buru Tovo taught me to dance over burning coals. I made a few mistakes early on. My feet still carry the scars." Remembering he was barefoot, Cliopher lifted one foot and gestured at the glossy patches. His Radiancy let out a small sound of surprise; his friends too—reminding him of their presence.

There was far more to the story, of course—to the dances of the Lays and of the Mdang family—but now was not the time to share the whole of it. He could feel how difficult it was for his lord to concentrate. He needed to bring the conversation back to his Radiancy’s health, to convince his lord to focus on what was most important.  So, all he said was, "perhaps one day I'll be able to show you," including his friends in the comment before looking to his Radiancy. 

This time his lord met his eyes fully. Cliopher felt the touch of his lord’s magic in the connection; not overwhelming for once, but rather a quiver of energy that reverberated through him as if drawn by the marks of his Radiancy’s affection. "But truly, these—” Cliopher tried not to tremble as he indicated the marks."—were nothing so bad. A brief sting quickly faded."

"I presume you helped me here?" His Radiancy said, words growing quieter as exhaustion closed in. 

Cliopher nodded, blinking hard to push aside the exhaustion that wasn’t his own. "Yes, my lord. I stayed as it seemed to make you more comfortable. I truly did not mean to fall asleep." 

"As if that was my concern, my dear Kip," His Radiancy said gently. He turned to Ludvic. "When did this happen, Commander Omo?"

"Just before lunch, my lord. Saya Kalikiri will have only just made the announcement saying you've had a heart attack. Your physician, Domina Audry, is waiting outside. I would have had her come in sooner, but felt it was safer to have her wait until…you were awake.” Ludvic gave Cliopher an almost imperceptible shrug.

Until Cliopher was awake, Ludvic meant. Or perhaps both of them. Cliopher could only imagine what rumours would spread if anyone outside the imperial household heard of that morning’s interaction. Much less the Ouranatha. He stifled the last thought quickly, hoping his Radiancy was not sharing his feelings the same way Cliopher was his. Thinking of the Ouranatha’s likely response to the broken taboo would in no way help his Radiancy’s health. 

His Radiancy frowned, looked at Cliopher's marks again, then rubbed his chest. "If you are truly in no pain, Cliopher, I suspect you'd prefer me to see Domina Audry rather than make a fuss over you—at least for the moment?"

"You’ve had a severe heart attack, my lord,” Cliopher said, trying to convey the deep well of concern he felt—that he knew without knowing that Conju, Ludvic, and Rhodin also felt.  “We thought you were dying.” 

“Ahh,” his lord said, softly. “Very well. We shall see Domina Audry. But you must promise to rest, my dear Kip. I may be incredibly weak and my magic somewhat unruly, but I can sense there’s more going on than you’ve said.”

Cliopher thought about arguing, but he would never lie to the Sun-on-Earth, much less to anyone. He prided himself on his honest dealings. He nodded. “Yes, my lord. But it’s nothing that shouldn’t keep until you’re feeling better.”

His Radiancy sighed. Under other circumstances, Cliopher knew his lord would press—but the pain and exhaustion were overwhelming him. "Very well," his Radiancy whispered. 

***

For the Lord Chancellor of Zunidh, resting, of course, was a relative term. Cliopher did manage to navigate the two staircases down and three hallways over to his own apartments without anyone accosting him for information. For the entire journey, he kept his hands tucked high in his sleeves and worked to channel his Radiancy at his most serene and benevolent, knowing that any watchers would see his calm as a positive sign. If the Lord Chancellor wasn’t flustered, his Radiancy could not be on his deathbed.

He hoped his Radiancy wasn’t on his deathbed. Cliopher thought his lord wasn’t given what he could sense from him—primarily aching exhaustion and annoyance, along with a deep undercurrent of tension and concern. Cliopher frowned at the latter, knowing the concern was on his own behalf. As much as his Radiancy had given way to the need to see a physician, it did not appear that he was resigned to what had happened to Cliopher or what might happen to him.

The sense of his Radiancy remained surprisingly strong, even with the distance Cliopher put between them. The insight was obviously a result of his lord’s touch. An echo deep within that tried to subsume his own senses—that had done so several times within the Imperial Apartments. He would need to be on guard for that until the connection faded.

Cliopher hoped it would fade. No one should sense the Last Emperor of Astandalas so intimately. While he expected it wasn’t the reason for the taboo against touch, given that before the Fall he would have died for breaking it, the connection would likely be viewed as anathema by the Ouranatha and those who considered his Radiancy a god. He rubbed his chest absently. It was difficult to think of the Sun-on-Earth as divine when he could feel the ache of his very human heart.

One of his footmen opened the door for him as he approached. “Thank you, Ewan,” he said, as he passed through. As the door closed behind him, Cliopher stopped for a long breath, wiping an arm across his face. His entire body trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into the wall with the hope of finding steadiness. His lord had almost died . What would they have done without him? What would he… A chilled pain spiked through his chest. He took a quick breath, another, collecting himself. He had to stay calm in case his Radiancy could feel him the way he could feel his lord.

 A few moments later, Franzel came bustling into the room. His majordomo stopped in his tracks, staring. “Sir, are you…well?” 

Cliopher raised his head to find Franzel giving him a very concerned look. Cliopher followed Franzel’s gaze to his wrinkled robes, realizing how dishevelled they were–he was. “His Radiancy had a heart attack. I admit, my clothing was not my first concern.” He wiped his face again.

“Of course not, Sir,” Franzel said, his tone soothing. “But we’ve heard he is recovering?” 

Cliopher nodded tiredly. “Yes. His physician was going in to see him as I was leaving. There will be more news in the morning.”

“What do you need most right now, Sir?” 

Cliopher thought that was a very well-worded question. He thought for a moment. “Have there been any messages for me?” 

“Yes, Sir. Saya Kalikiri sent a note asking if you’d like her to draft letters to the princes.”

“Can you send a page to ask her to wait on tomorrow’s news? I expect his Radiancy will need some time to recover. Let’s learn what Domina Audry recommends before we spread definitive word. I should be able to tell her first thing tomorrow. It seems a reasonable delay given the situation.”

“Of course, Sir.” Franzel paused in thought. “I expect you might want to rest before the storm truly hits. Might I draw you a bath and have an early dinner prepared?”

A wash of fatigue pressed down on Cliopher, suggesting he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work if he tried. Perhaps sleep would see him more ready to face what he expected to be the full weight of the government falling onto his lap come morning. He’d have to get up early. Very early, if he wanted to be ready. “Yes, thank you Franzel."

A few bells later, after sifting anxiously through a few files on his desk and writing a list for the morning, bathing, and half-heartedly picking at supper, Cliopher was lying on his sleeping mat, trying to will himself to drift off—wishing his Radiancy would drift off. His lord’s chest was throbbing abominably and he was restless, which meant Cliopher was as well. Worse was the deepening sense of distress, of despair, of loneliness .

Cliopher tried to ignore the sensations, the feelings raising tears of sympathy in his eyes. He knew his Radiancy would be discomfited if he knew what Cliopher was sensing. If he knew Cliopher could feel how afraid he truly was. 

***

It was midnight when Cliopher gave up trying. He slipped out of bed and pulled on the top layer of the costume Franzel had laid out for the morning—a rich navy silk robe. It would do well enough for the short trip back to the Imperial Apartments.

His household had gone to bed, no doubt planning to rise well before dawn in order to attend him, so Cliopher was able to slip out without notice. He found the hallways deserted, no one but the painted figures of former emperors and empresses to watch him make his way up to the Imperial Apartments. The inhabitants of the Palace of Stars that were awake were likely tucked in their own rooms, worrying over the Last Emperor’s health and wondering what news might come in the morning. 

Only as he approached the Imperial Apartments did he see signs of life. As always, two guards stood at perfect attention at the double doors, gold-tipped spears at the ready. When they saw Cliopher approaching, they saluted. The guard on the right moved to open the door.

“His Radiancy does not know I am coming,” Cliopher said quietly. “But I could not sleep. I wanted to ensure all was well.” 

“We have been instructed to let you in at any time, day or night, Lord Mdang,” the guard on the left said. “Commander Omo is still within, however, so I expect his Radiancy has not yet fallen asleep. Or, if he has, the commander can give you an update.” 

“Thank you,” Cliopher said. He passed through the anterooms, nodding to the pages whispering quietly in the first anteroom—the day had probably been quite exciting to them—and sharing a few words with each pair of guards. None seemed particularly concerned to see him. Not one questioned his right to be there after midnight. In truth, they all seemed highly solicitous—perhaps recognizing that the Lord Chancellor would, of course, be deeply worried about his Radiancy’s health.

In his Radiancy’s study, Cliopher knocked on the ivory door. It only took a few moments before it was opened by Lady Ylette, dressed more simply than he’d ever seen her, but still in exquisite robes in shades of pink and white, reminiscent of cherry blossoms.

“I wanted to check how his Radiancy was doing,” he said apologetically. Lady Ylette offered him a small smile and stepped aside to let him through. “Of course, Lord Mdang. You are most welcome. His Radiancy has said you are welcome to his person at any time.” 

Cliopher felt his cheeks warm at the thought his Radiancy had left such direction. “Do you know if he’s still awake?”

“He was a short time ago,” she said, tilting her head in thought. “He did insist that Conju retire, although I believe Commander Omo remains within along with both honor guards.”

“Thank you, Lady Ylette. I promise not to disrupt his Radiancy should he be sleeping. I am certain he needs it.” Unsaid was his knowledge that his Radiancy was most definitely not asleep, even if he perhaps wanted others to think he was. Cliopher could feel his lord’s continued restlessness like a quiver in his bones, his anxiety, his aloneness.

Lady Ylette nodded, then motioned him onwards to his Radiancy’s bedchamber. Cliopher stepped quietly, not wanting to disrupt the quietude permeating the private space. He was heard regardless; as he approached his lord’s bedchamber, Elish ducked out, somehow alerted to his presence. Upon seeing Cliopher, the guard nodded in recognition, then stepped back into the room without waiting to see what Cliopher would do. The conveyance of trust in him was striking, particularly given the Sun-on-Earth’s current infirmity.

Once inside, Cliopher’s eyes were immediately drawn to Ludvic sitting in a chair near his Radiancy’s bedside. The commander of the guard was not on official duty—Elish and Oginu were there for that—but he appeared alert, ready to jump to attention should his Radiancy require anything. “Cliopher? What’s wrong?” Ludvic asked, voice slightly too loud for the time of night.

Cliopher moved across the room hesitantly, his eyes searching to find what his heart was looking for. The foamwork curtains remained tied back from the morning, allowing Cliopher a clear view of his lord laying in the bed, the coverlet drawn most of the way up his chest. His Radiancy seemed small, fragile even. Nothing like the Serene and Glorious One, the god so many thought him to be, but simply a man who was ill and sore hurt and desperately lonely. His lord appeared asleep, but Cliopher knew he wasn’t.

Ignoring Ludvic’s questioning look, Cliopher went directly to the side of the bed and knelt. “I am here, my lord,” he said, ever so gently. “You are not alone.” He placed a hand on the mattress—within reach, palm up, inviting.

He stayed in that position, shutting his eyes to better focus on what he was feeling, what his lord was feeling. There was an ache in his chest, not only from the effect of the heart attack and the cardiac thrusts, but from the false memory of touch and succour. His Radiancy did not, could not , believe that Cliopher had held him so comfortingly. A thousand years of isolation was harsh proof against that fever dream. 

Cliopher knew the depth of his lord’s despair, the bleakness causing his own heart to stutter. He opened his eyes to glance at Ludvic, finding his friend through the glimmer of welling tears. The commander was staring open-mouthed at him, confusion and worry playing across his usually stoic face. But Ludvic already knew that Cliopher was sensing something of his Radiancy’s state; Rhodin had spoken of it quite frankly, even if they hadn’t had time to discuss what it meant in any detail. 

Cliopher hoped his friend trusted him as much as the door guards, Lady Ylette, and Elish and Oginu—more than them even. Because he couldn’t simply watch his lord struggle—or feel him struggling given his Radiancy hadn’t moved at all. His lord was frozen, paralyzed by the very idea of accepting Cliopher's offer. As if this was all a dream and, if he did reach out, it would only be devastating once he woke. 

Cliopher’s heart thumped in tune with his lord’s—too quick, too anxious. Cliopher’s own anxiety was a biting counterpoint. He was terrified his lord was going to have another heart attack. He desperately, longingly wanted to reach out and grab his Radiancy’s hand. He trusted that he could , given the morning’s interactions. He had no compunctions about attaining more gold marks on his skin if his touch could give his lord comfort. 

But he also knew how deeply afraid his lord was of hurting him further and that reaching out directly could make those feelings worse. A thousand years knowing he could kill with a touch was not something his Radiancy could easily set aside. And much as Cliopher wasn't dead, could manage the burn of his lord's touch—even he didn't know what the ramifications would be. What the Ouranatha might demand. Or he knew , but he refused to think about it. There would be time enough for that later.

There had to be some way he could offer comfort without making his lord's choking anxiety worse. Cliopher examined the room in more detail, realizing that someone—Conju no doubt—had left several blankets at the foot of the bed, perhaps worrying that his Radiancy might get cold. The blankets seemed out of place next to the Imperial yellow, gold, and white of the coverlet, each in a different vibrant shade: violet, turquoise, and scarlet.

Letting out a long breath, Cliopher stood and grabbed the scarlet blanket. He shook it out, glad to see that it would be plenty big enough. He looked to Ludvic, who was watching him carefully, eyes a bit wide. But the commander of the guard didn’t say a word. Neither did the guards on the door, although he expected they would move very quickly if Ludvic gave an order.

Taking the blanket back to the head of the bed, he scanned for his best approach. Finally, he leaned over the bed and murmured quietly so that only he, Ludvic, and his Radiancy would hear. “My lord, I know what you long for and I know you are desperately afraid to ask for it because you don’t want to hurt me. While I’m not concerned about your touch—not after this morning—I feel how much you are. But I want to give you the comfort I know you desire. I will if you let me. My lord, Conju left blankets. I can use one of them to keep from touching you directly. I can hold you, comfort you. Will you let me?”

Cliopher felt his lord’s acquiescence right before his Radiancy opened his brilliant gold eyes and turned weakly towards him. “My dear Kip,” his Radiancy whispered, looking to the blanket Cliopher was holding out like an offered shield. His eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Moving ever so slowly, Cliopher slipped out of his sandals, then pulled back the coverlet. He levered himself onto the bed, holding the blanket before him. With his Radiancy watching, He scooted close, grabbed a pillow for his head, then laid down, covering himself carefully with the blanket, leaving only his head free. Under other circumstances, he might have felt foolish, but he could feel the fear slowly draining out of his Radiancy, replaced by anticipation, desire, longing. 

“Come, my lord,” Cliopher offered, gently, softly, breathlessly. His Radiancy met his eyes fully. Cliopher trembled as his lord’s magic resonated through the gold marks dotting his skin, the magic unconcerned about crossing boundaries already breached. And then his lord shuffled over the few inches separating them, pressing tight into Cliopher’s side. When that didn’t cause an issue, the Sun-on-Earth shifted even closer, resting his head on Cliopher’s chest. 

“This isn’t a dream?” His Radiancy asked, so quietly, so hesitant, so unsure.

“No, my lord,” Cliopher whispered. “I am here.” 

His lord collapsed into him, relaxing both physically and within Cliopher’s senses. Cliopher waited a moment, then took the farthest corner of the scarlet blanket and folded it over his lord’s head and back, cocooning him within, protecting him. Then, Cliopher wrapped his own arms tight around the Sun-on-Earth. Contentment, his lord’s, his— theirs —permeated deep into his soul.  

“Kip,” his Radiancy said after a long while. 

“My lord?” 

“Are you truly sensing everything that I’m feeling?” 

“It certainly seems that way, my lord,” Cliopher said gently, recognizing how vulnerable his lord might feel at the knowledge. It was an incredible intrusion. “This morning, Rhodin said I was reflecting you somehow.”

His lord huffed, a hint of amusement poking through the growing contentment. “I could wish the sharing went both directions. I would not mind knowing what you’re feeling right now.”

Cliopher smiled, although his lord couldn’t see it, shielded as he was by the blanket. “Right now, I am feeling quite at ease, my lord. You are feeling—dare I say it—less fragile and that is making me much relieved. Before I came back here, I was…very concerned. Do you—” Cliopher stopped abruptly, worrying he might cross a line he really shouldn’t.

“What?” Cliopher imagined his lord was frowning. “You may ask me anything, my dear Kip.”

Cliopher sighed, but he wanted the answer, needed the answer. “Do you always feel so…lonely?”

“Ahh.” His Radiancy echoed his sigh. “I spent fourteen years, four months, four days, and seventeen hours as the Hundredth Emperor of Astandalas, Kip. For being the lynchpin of the Empire, I was utterly and completely alone.”

Cliopher waited through a long pause, giving his Radiancy space to share what he wanted. But, feeling how difficult finding the words was, he also tightened his arms ever so slightly. 

“I haven’t been the emperor since the Fall,” his Radiancy said, finally. “Not, technically, although many of the taboos have clung to me, along with the weight of countless expectations. Until our visit to Lesuia Island, I’d managed to resign myself to what I had. To be grateful for every small gift of companionship I was given–far more, at least, than I had had as emperor.”

Another long pause and a pang of want . “But, yes, my dear Kip. Even now, I often feel lonely. I often wish I could, truly, have friends.”

Cliopher drew in a sharp breath, the cut of the wish driving deep. "I am sorry, my lord," he said, almost inaudibly.

His Radiancy shrugged under his hands, under the blanket separating them. "It is what it is, Kip. I am only grateful for your gift of that remarkable vacation. I am grateful Ludvic asked if I might retire. Without you, without all of you–" His Radiancy lifted his head from Cliopher's chest to include Ludvic--steady Ludvic who'd sat unobtrusively beside the bed throughout their incredibly personal exchange and who startled badly at his Radiancy's mentioning him directly—in the conversation. "—I wouldn't have imagined I could retire. That knowledge, knowing there will be an end to all this, knowing you are helping me build a government that can withstand my departure, makes the loneliness much easier to bear." He coughed, harshly. "At least when I haven't just had a heart attack."

His Radiancy set his head back down on Cliopher's chest, weariness setting in, and regret, and guilt. "Do not worry Cliopher. I will be well enough soon. I am sorry for what I did to you this morning. I would wish I hadn’t touched you, that you wouldn’t have to feel all this.”

Cliopher couldn’t wish for the same. Knowing what he knew now, the idea of leaving his lord alone to deal with his fears and his sadness and his loneliness was devastating. It was his own heart aching this time and he was selfishly glad his lord couldn’t feel it.

The swell of his lord’s emotions, now softening under the press of exhaustion, gave him a new perspective on a thousand and one small interactions. Above them all, the realization of how easy it had been to come check on his Radiancy—how the guards hadn't even considered stopping him, even at midnight. His Radiancy had unlocked the door for him, but it had never occurred to Cliopher to try and open it.

Whether this sense of his Radiancy receded with time or not, Cliopher made a silent promise to do better. Starting now. “I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else, my lord….my Tor,” he admitted, pulling his Radiancy even closer, and tucking his blanket-covered head under his chin. He felt his lord’s surprise and pleasure. “I told you how much I loved you once—but I have never truly shown it. I won’t make that mistake again.” 

He felt his Radiancy shiver under the weight of his words, of his promise. The bells tolled the hour—now two past midnight. 

He glanced over at Ludvic, who was smiling ever so softly. As Cliopher met his eyes, the commander of the guard's smile broadened. And then Ludvic stood. “My lord," he said simply, directing his words more to Cliopher given his Radiancy had burrowed back into the scarlet blanket. "You should try and rest. If you are amenable, I would leave you in Cliopher’s capable hands. Should you need anything, I am sure he will know it.” Ludvic’s tone was matter-of-fact, professional.

“Of course, Ludvic,” his Radiancy answered, voice less than a whisper. "Thank you for taking such care of me, always." Cliopher could feel his lord's respect and appreciation and love.

"It is truly my honour, my lord." Ludvic said, nodding to Cliopher, then making his way unceremoniously towards the bedchamber door, only stopping to whisper a few words to Elish and Oginu before slipping out. 

Cliopher glanced towards the door, but the two guards weren't looking in his direction. In fact, they were studiously not looking towards the bed at all. He realized what Ludvic must have suggested, perhaps ordered. He chuckled softly.

"Cliopher?" His Radiancy murmured.

"Ludvic's given us a bit of privacy, my…Tor. As much as he could, anyways," Cliopher said. He took a moment to reposition the blanket around his Lord of Rising Stars. "How are you feeling now?"

"Don't you know?"

Cliopher smiled. "I figured it was polite to ask. It is quite an intrusion."

He felt his Radiancy shift minutely closer, then wrap an arm across his chest. "You could never be an intrusion, my dear Kip."

"Sleep, my lord," Cliopher said softly.

Chapter Text

When Cliopher woke, it took him a few moments to remember where he was, but the softness of the mattress under him and the softly breathing Sun-on-Earth covering him brought the memories flowing back. 

Yes, he had come to see his Radiancy after midnight. Yes, he was laying in the Imperial bedchamber with the Lord of Rising Stars spread comfortably around and over him like a blanket. Yes, he could still feel his Radiancy's emotions intertwined with his own–sleepy, content, and dream-hazy.  

Cliopher knew if he shut his eyes and let go, he'd be pulled back into sleep. Much as he wanted to do just that, he also knew that the Palace of Stars would be starting to wake and that his own household would be concerned when they discovered his absence, if they hadn't already. The last thing he wanted was to spark rumours. His Radiancy's heart attack was more than enough to keep the gossip hounds busy.

He sighed, then considered how best to extricate himself from the bed without waking his lord. Knowing his Radiancy was deeply asleep, Cliopher went for the most direct option. He took his lord's hand gently, lifting it so he could slide out from underneath. As he expected, there was no hint of a burn; his hands were already painted in gold. 

Smiling softly, Cliopher cupped his other hand under his lord's head, then moved carefully away. He lowered his Radiancy's hand to the mattress, then grabbed the pillow still warm from his own head and tucked it beneath his lord's. Beneath Tor's. In sleep, he was most definitely Tor. Completely relaxed, worry-lines smooth, no hint of carefully contained serenity.

Mission accomplished, Cliopher pulled his hand carefully from between the pillow and Tor and shifted backwards and out of reach. Tor released a soft sigh, turning fully into the pillow and wrapping his arms around it. Cliopher wished he didn't have responsibilities; he could easily watch this Tor for hours. Instead, he tucked the scarlet blanket back around Tor, then reached for the coverlet and pulled that around him, too. Unsure what else he could do to make Tor comfortable, and not quite ready to leave him alone, Cliopher patted the blankets ineffectually. 

It was only when the quarter-bell rang that he curled his fingers into his palms and properly turned away. Trying not to rustle the bedding, he crawled to the edge of the bed and slipped off. He bent over to put on his sandals before lifting his head to face the morning guards, not sure what they might have been told. He found Pikabe and Ato decidedly not looking at him. Whether Ludvic had said something to them, or Elish and Oginu had, he had no idea. He'd be happy if they all simply ignored what had happened. His Radiancy had needed comfort. Cliopher had been able to provide it. He could not get used to such a thing. Someone was going to figure out what was going on with Cliopher's strange senses and either find a way to stop it, or…

"Cliopher," Conju called softly, coming out of his Radiancy’s dressing room. "I didn't realize you were awake.”

Conju didn't seem at all ruffled by Cliopher's presence—a fact that made Cliopher eminently grateful. "I realized my own household will be wondering where I am," he said, matter-of-factly. "I admit, I didn't tell anyone I was coming last night. It was quite a rash decision."

Conju’s lips turned up in a small smile. "Ludvic left me a note explaining matters. Not to worry. I sent a message down to Franzel when I came on duty."

"Thank you, Conju." Cliopher tried not to think about how Ludvic would have described the situation.

His friend waved a hand dismissively, then assessed him critically, head cocked to the side in thought. "Although, if you're going to make this a habit, I recommend taking off your outer robes first."

Cliopher's cheeks flushed. "Conju!" he protested, loudly enough he peeked towards the bed to make sure he hadn't woken his Radiancy–forgetting for a moment he didn't need to see his lord to know that he was still sleeping. "I could feel how terrible he felt. How desperately lonely. All I could think was that we all need someone to comfort us at times. That's why I came. I don't expect to 'make a habit of it.'"

Conju stared at him silently, eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Cliopher. Do you honestly believe his Radiancy won't need you again—won't need the comfort you can provide?" Conju's voice had a hint of annoyance in it. "Do you think he's ever not troubled?"

Cliopher looked to the bed, where his Radiancy was sleeping contentedly, peacefully—one might even say serenely.

"This moment does not count," Conju clarified. "You’re the reason his Radiancy is sleeping so well this morning. Most days he's a terrible sleeper. He has regular nightmares."

"Oh," Cliopher said, discomfited. "I had no idea." 

Conju grimaced. "He doesn't talk about them much but, being so close to him every day, it's impossible not to get a sense of them."

"Should you be telling me this, Conju? Such information seems rather private." 

His friend shook his head, somewhat bemused. "You're sensing everything he's feeling, Cliopher. I am quite certain you'd learn about them soon enough. I would not want you to be surprised."

Cliopher rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We don't even know if this sense I have will stay."

"If it hasn't faded by now, I expect it won't without intervention."

Cliopher sucked in a long breath. That was a complicated thought—and it reminded him of the looming issue of the broken taboo, which he'd purposely been trying not to think about. "For now, I think we need to focus on the short-term. Not what ifs for later."

"You're right. I'm sorry," Conju said, contrite. "But worrying about the government is your task. Mine is to worry about his Radiancy."

Cliopher offered a small smile, knowing that statement for truth. It was, in fact, quite surprising how well Conju was holding up given his Radiancy's heart attack. If thinking about Cliopher meant he wasn't twitching more about his Radiancy's health, it was probably an acceptable exchange. "Speaking of which, what did Domina Audry say yesterday? I'll need to make an announcement this morning and get messages to the princes."

"Domina Audry said his Radiancy should make a full recovery and left some medicines for him. She also suggested that he take a minimum of two weeks off so he actually has time to recover."

Despite the second half of Conju’s statement—which would throw his carefully ordered schedule into disarray—Cliopher couldn’t help but feel intense relief. "We’ll have to hope he listens to her,” he said, chuckling very softly. His Radiancy did not enjoy resting as they both knew. “When I give the announcement, I'll say that court is postponed until his Radiancy recovers. That will give some flexibility on timing. I'll also mention that any urgent issues should come to me as Lord Chancellor. Hopefully that will lift much of his workload for the next little while."

"Thank you, Cliopher."

"As you said, that is my job. We'll get through this. He'll get through this." Cliopher patted Conju's arm gently. "Now, I truly need to get back. It's going to be a long day. Although, if—" he glanced towards the bed.

Conju’s expression softened. "I'll send a page if he needs you.”

Feeling more ready to face the tasks ahead, Cliopher nodded gratefully, then towards the door. He made it a couple of steps before Conju made a noise of protest. "Wait! Cliopher, you can't go back to your apartments looking like that."

Cliopher glanced down. The navy robe he had thrown on to make his midnight visit was in an even worse state than what he'd been wearing when his Radiancy had had his heart attack. "Ahhh—" 

"Don’t be concerned. Ylette had a new outfit for you ready in her workshop. She's been saving it for a special occasion but agreed to part with it given the situation. I’ve set it out in his Radiancy's dressing room. Now, go change.”  Conju paused for a long moment, then added, “Leave that robe. I'll take care of it before either Ylette or Feonie gets their eyes on it. We do not need someone else to have a heart attack."

***

Dressed in a new set of resplendent robes, and knowing Franzel had been given an update by Conju, Cliopher made his way down to the Private Offices rather than heading directly to his own apartments. A lot would need to happen today; better to get some of it in motion before anything else blew up.

When he arrived at the Private Offices, they were near-empty and quiet–it was a full bell or two earlier than most began their day—but, as he’d expected, Kiri was already in her office working her way through a stack of paperwork. She looked up as he walked in and settled himself into the chair across from her. "Lord Mdang! I thought you might come by early. How is his Radiancy?"

"I checked on him this morning. He's sleeping well," Cliopher said, deciding that was a safe enough admission. "But his physician suggested he rest for at least two weeks."

"Oh." Kiri’s eyes widened perceptibly, revealing her immediate understanding of what that would mean—both for him and for the Private Offices. She flipped through the papers on her desk. "This morning is the monthly appointments meeting. At least we can give you some secretaries to help with the added work."

"I'd completely forgotten,” he admitted. “Yes, that would be incredibly helpful. I should think I will at least need an appointments secretary. And perhaps someone for dictations."

"And for reviewing and summarizing the reports you simply won’t have time to read.” Seeing the look on his face, she laughed. “I know how much you love reading reports, but even you need to sleep, Lord Mdang. Let us help you. Now, will you take Zaoul, Tully, and your nephew? I'd offer Eldo too, but he's still in Amboloyo."

"I wasn't…I don't…" Cliopher wanted to work with his nephew, but the appearances associated with it made him pause.

Kiri, who'd worked with him for many years, read right through him. "Those three and Eldo are the best of the junior secretaries to come through in five years, Lord Mdang,” she said, very pointedly. “It would be far more notable if you didn't take your nephew."

"Oh," Cliopher managed. "Thank you, Kiri."

***

After discussing several other issues with Kiri, Cliopher hurried back to his own apartments to properly bathe and re-dress, eat a hasty breakfast, and pick up his writing kit. As he was finishing breakfast, he felt his Radiancy starting to stir. 

"Franzel, I might be called upon to attend his Radiancy after the announcement this morning. I may send my new secretaries here without me." He took a moment to swig the last bit of his coffee, wishing he had time for more.

"Of course, Sir," his major-domo said, offering a polite nod of acknowledgement. "I will make sure they have everything they need."

"Thank you,” Cliopher said, meaning it.

"Of course, Sir. Might I ask—" Cliopher nodded his acquiescence, although he doubted Franzel needed it. "Is your family still expected to arrive this evening?"

Cliopher thought through the days in his head. "Stars. You’re right,” he said, wincing at the new complication.  “This is going to cause a muddle, isn’t it?" The last part was rhetorical, but no less true. 

"We will all do what we can to make them welcome,” Franzel said, reassuringly. “I'll ensure rooms are prepared. Will you need me to meet them at the sky ship dock?"

Cliopher shook his head. "My mother would never appreciate that. I'll be there or, if I'm busy with his Radiancy, I will send Gaudy."

"Very good, Sir."

***

The announcement went well enough given Kiri had given the more unsettling news the previous day. Cliopher was glad to be able to share Domina Audry’s positive evaluation. The relief in the throne room that his Radiancy was expected to make a full recovery was palpable.

He made it back to the Private Offices barely in time for the appointments meeting. Gaudy seemed surprised when his name was called along with Zaoul and Tully's, but he joined the others without comment. 

As Cliopher hurried them towards his own apartments, he hastened to reassure his nephew–knowing full well Gaudy’s concerns likely mirrored his own. "Kiri has told me you three are the best of the junior secretaries. Given the entire government has fallen into my lap this morning, I need the best. I expect you’re all ready to work harder than you’ve had to since your arrival in the palace?" 

“Yes, your excellency,” the three junior secretaries answered, practically in unison. Cliopher turned away from them so they wouldn’t see his amusement. Only good friends had that kind of perfect synchronicity. Their friendship, which he knew extended to include Lord Eldo, spoke considerably to how much the government had changed since he’d first arrived at the palace. He couldn’t help but appreciate those changes and his small role in making them possible.

They were almost at his apartments when Cliopher got a distinct feeling of want from his Radiancy. He stopped abruptly, the junior secretaries monitoring his movements so diligently none physically ran into him. “Your excellency?” Gaudy asked, the disapproval on his face more nephew to uncle than junior secretary to Lord Chancellor.

“I need to attend to his Radiancy,” Cliopher told the trio, ignoring Gaudy’s first look—and his second after mentioning his Radiancy as if he’d just recalled an earlier summons. No one simply forgot the need to attend the Sun-on-Earth, they all knew, but he wasn’t ready to share with them exactly how he’d been summoned. Cliopher also wasn’t about to wait on the page that Conju would no doubt send. Not when he knew his lord wanted him. “Go get yourselves set up in my apartments. My majordomo Franzel already knows you’re coming. Given this morning’s announcement, I am certain to get a flood of meeting requests imminently, if it hasn’t started already. Figure out what’s important and start on briefing notes for them please.”

“Yes, your excellency,” the three chorused.

“Oh, here. Take these,” Cliopher said, handing a stack of reports to Zaoul. “Saya Kalikiri rightly informed me that I probably won’t have time to read all the reports I’d like to this week. Divvy them up. When you’re not busy doing other work, please go through them and pull out anything that looks particularly interesting.” 

“How will we know what’s interesting?” Zaoul wondered.

“Think of it as a test. I want to get a sense of how you each think.”

“Yes, your excellency,” Zaoul said. The Tkinele tribesman seemed completely unflustered at the idea of a test, but he gripped the reports tight to his chest.

“I think you can call me sir,” Cliopher said, making sure to include all three junior secretaries in the instruction.

“Yes, sir,” they answered cheerfully, still in unison.

Cliopher tried not to smile, but failed completely. Oh, to be so young and enthusiastic. “Go on now. I’ll likely be back in a bell or two.” He motioned his new secretaries to keep going. Once they were a few steps ahead, Cliopher tucked his writing case into the crook of his arm and turned back the way they’d come to head up to the Imperial Apartments. 

The two guards outside his Radiancy’s apartments saluted him brilliantly, opening the doors even before he could come to a stop. Cliopher continued in, offering a brief word of thanks in passing. Each pair of subsequent guards welcomed him with the same easy efficiency.

Conju opened the ivory door at his knock. Upon seeing Cliopher, his eyes widened in surprise. “Did you feel something? I can’t imagine the page found you so quickly.” 

Cliopher nodded. “I got the distinct sense of want. It certainly seemed like a summons.”

His friend hummed in appreciation, but didn’t say anything further. “His Radiancy slept until near the fourth bell. I’ve just brought him a tray of food. See if you can get him to eat it, would you?”

“I’ll do my best,” Cliopher said, unsure why his Radiancy would listen to him over Conju.

Ludvic and Rhodin had replaced Pikabe and Ato as his Radiancy’s innermost guards. The commander ducked his head out at the sound of their approach, then stepped fully out of his Radiancy’s bedchamber to speak with them. “Cliopher, good. Before you head in, I wanted to thank you.” Cliopher raised his eyebrows in question. “For coming last night–or, should I say, this morning,” Ludvic clarified. “I wasn’t certain how…well, it was not a situation we’ve ever planned for.” 

His Radiancy being ill? No, the Imperial Guard must have folders upon folders filled with scenarios involving his Radiancy being hurt, ill, or even killed. Ludvic meant his Radiancy acting human, Cliopher realized. “I am only glad I could,” he said quietly, truthfully. 

“So am I,” Ludvic said, offering the hint of a smile. “Now, go ahead. He’ll be glad to see you.” The commander gestured for Cliopher to enter. It wasn’t the proper protocol–emphasising again the level of trust he was being given. Apparently, the midnight visit hadn’t been an exception. 

Inside, Cliopher found the Sun-on-Earth sitting upright in bed, a glorious  pile of pillows—more than had been there earlier—at his back. A lap tray sat before him, holding various foods and a cup of what he expected was tea. Conju hadn't been wrong to be concerned; the food appeared untouched. 

Cliopher closed his eyes briefly, getting a sense of his Radiancy: tired, achy…then, pleased. Cliopher opened his eyes to find his lord watching him intently. “My lord,” Cliopher said, stepping into the centre of the room to make his obeisances. 

His Radiancy immediately gestured for him to rise. “My dear Lord Chancellor. Where have you been this morning?”

Cliopher gave a brief report of his activities, starting with his visit to the Private Offices. When he mentioned acquiring three new secretaries, his Radiancy interrupted. “I trust your nephew is one of them?” 

“Yes, my lord.” Cliopher's cheeks heated.

“Your face tells me you weren’t certain about appointing him, but Saya Kalikiri swayed you in the right direction.” As always, his Radiancy’s observation skills were impeccable.

“You are not wrong, my lord,” Cliopher admitted ruefully.

“I am glad you listened. Now, come here." His Radiancy waved him to the chair by his bed. "You’re too far away. Conju, would you bring Cliopher some coffee? I expect he’d prefer it to tea. I am certain he did not sleep as well as I did.”

Cliopher sensed his lord's appreciation, mixed in with a hint of guilt. He wanted to reach out and take his  hand reassuringly, but he doubted it would be appreciated. It had been difficult enough to get his Radiancy to accept comfort through the blanket in the dark of night. During the bright light of day—well, it would be bright if his Radiancy's bedchamber had windows, which it did not—he expected his lord would continue to avoid even the possibility of touch despite that seeming to be what he needed most while Cliopher could. 

A thousand years and Cliopher had been the only one to ever touch his Radiancy on purpose. Well, outside of the Moon, but Cliopher refused to count her. He stared at the marks on his hands, contemplative.

"Cliopher?" Conju asked, interrupting his reverie. Cliopher raised his eyes. His friend had an eyebrow up. Oh. The question of coffee. 

"Yes, I'd appreciate it, Conju. Thank you," he said, smiling gratefully. He could probably drink a vat of coffee if it was put in front of him. Conju nodded, then hurried out of the room. Cliopher stepped close to his Radiancy's bed, slipping into the chair Ludvic had occupied in the wee hours of the morning.

Once Cliopher was sitting within easy reach, his Radiancy sighed appreciatively. Cliopher felt the tension drain out of his lord, and noticed how his own back loosened in response. His Radiancy collapsed into the stack of pillows, letting them take more of his weight. If going through the motions of greeting him had taken so much out of the Lord of Rising Stars, Cliopher was doubly glad for Domina Audry's recommendation of rest.

A moment later, his Radiancy released an audible breath. He looked inquisitively at the tray of food—toasts with jam, slices of cheese, and a couple of hard-boiled eggs, already peeled—then turning to meet Cliopher's eyes. “Can you tell I am not very hungry?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Cliopher thought about it, then shook his head. “I can’t sense the absence of feelings I don’t think, my lord. Perhaps if the food disgusted you, I’d know it.”

“Hmm. That suggests you're feeling only my emotions rather than sensing my thoughts or the tenor of my thoughts. I did wonder.” His Radiancy paused for a long moment, before adding, “It is quite an intriguing side effect, if somewhat disconcerting. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of such a thing happening by accident before.” 

“You mean people have done it on purpose?” Cliopher asked. 

“Not definitively,” his Radiancy said, tilting his head in consideration. Cliopher could feel his growing interest pressing the tiredness aside. “When I was exiled to the tower on Colhélhé, I read a number of stories about wild mages forging bonds between them that allowed for such sharing and more. I assumed they were myths, but now I wonder—”

Before his lord could finish his thought, Conju returned with coffee. “Thank you, Conju,” Cliopher said, taking the cup carefully. He took a long sip, before looking back at his Radiancy.

“Well, I suspect we’ll never know,” his lord said pensively. “I do, however, appreciate your giving me a puzzle to consider while you’re taking care of all my work. I am sure you wouldn’t want me to get bored.”

Cliopher choked on his coffee, trying valiantly not to spit it all over the Sun-on-Earth. He succeeded, barely. “I would be as happy if you’d have some of the breakfast Conju brought for you, my lord. I really would prefer not to have to deal with Prince Rufus for longer than I need to. I can only imagine his reaction when he learns he must come to me if he has any concerns.” 

“I don’t believe you give Prince Rufus enough credit, my dear Kip," his Radiancy said. “I expect he’ll be battering down your door the minute he arrives, wanting to see if he can slip something past you while I am incapacitated.” His lord’s expression was perfectly serene and benevolent, but Cliopher sensed a hint of humour burbling below the surface. He smiled softly.

His Radiancy noticed, curling his lips slightly upwards in response. Without further prompting, he picked up a slice of toast and took a bite. Cliopher sipped his coffee quietly, taking pleasure in the companionable silence. As he watched his lord eat, a small part of him marveled at how his lord suddenly felt perfectly content.

***

Sometime later, his Radiancy finished eating. Conju was right there to take the empty tray. As he did, he gave Cliopher an appreciative nod. Not that Cliopher had done much besides provide a small amount of encouragement.

With the tray out of the way, his Radiancy stretched, then settled back into the pillows. Cliopher could feel how tired he was, how satisfied. "Do you want me to go, my lord?" he asked. "More sleep might be good for you."

He felt the shock of the vehement negative in his bones, immediately looking up to see what had prompted such a reaction,  but his lord seemed no different than usual. To anyone else he probably looked ill and tired, but still surprisingly calm and unaffected. But to Cliopher, it was as if he'd suddenly, unexpectedly fractured into pieces and was trying to hold himself together. 

He had no clear idea what to do. His Radiancy was obviously trying not to show weakness, trying not to admit he wanted anything at all. Cliopher thought about their interactions over the last hour–from the  mix of want he'd first felt while walking with his trio of new secretaries to the casual discussion topics seemingly focused more on distraction than outcomes. Which was a fair enough choice, he considered. His lord was still very ill. Distraction was a reasonable option when one couldn't focus on anything important. 

Given what he was feeling from his Radiancy, however, there had to be more. Perhaps his lord was trying to get what he could from their interactions without trying to impose. That would be something his Radiancy would do—particularly given how his lord felt so much guilt over touching Cliopher, even if he didn't recall the full series of events. His Radiancy would hate wanting more touch—needing it. He'd barely accepted what comfort Cliopher had offered the previous night and likely that was only because Cliopher had somewhat forced the issue by showing up after midnight.

Cliopher glanced surreptitiously around the bedchamber. Ludvic and Rhodin were guarding the door. Both looked particularly professional, eyes constantly on watch for something unexpected, but not doing more than glancing occasionally at them. No doubt they could hear every word that was said, but they would never say anything to anyone outside of the Imperial Household. And Cliopher knew they were worried for more than his Radiancy's health. Whether because of their time together on Lesuia Island or simply a result of guarding his Radiancy for so many years, the two guards had seen more of the Sun-on-Earth's inner man than most anyone—even if they didn't admit it. Not in words anyway, although Ludvic had certainly made his opinions known in other ways over the past two days. He expected Rhodin would too, given the chance. 

Conju hadn't returned as of yet, but he was even less of a concern than Ludvic and Rhodin. He'd said it himself. His job was to worry about his Radiancy. Cliopher looked down at his gold-marked hands, curled around his mostly empty cup of coffee. He took a last sip, then did the unthinkable and set the cup on the floor, tucking it under the seat where he wouldn't knock it over by accident.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "My lord," he said, finally, gently, so very softly. He could  feel every eye in the room turn to him, although he was certain Ludvic and Rhodin hadn't moved at all. 

His Radiancy shifted his attention Cliopher's way, but refused to meet his eyes. Cliopher felt a miasma of emotions—shame and guilt and want and worry. Uncertainty. Confusion. A grain of annoyance, at knowing Cliopher was feeling it all, perhaps. "Cliopher," his lord said, tone carefully neutral.

Cliopher stretched his hands out, looking at the beautiful, glistening gold again. From the corner of his eye, he saw his Radiancy looking as well. "The marks only hurt for a moment, I told you that." Cliopher didn't wait for his lord's answer. "Subsequent touches haven't made anything worse. There's been no additional harmful effects as far as I can tell."

He grimaced, raising his eyes back to his lord, who was still staring at his hands.  "I am not suggesting that there aren't ramifications–I'm living those now. So are you, given I'm feeling more than I'm sure you'd ever want someone else to know. But, my lord…Tor–"

At his name, his Radiancy finally looked up, met Cliopher's eyes. The magic in his Lord's gaze resonated deeply, practically humming through Cliopher in awareness and recognition. 

"Tor," he said again, very gently. "The taboo is already shattered. There's nothing we can do about it." Cliopher wished desperately he could share his own feelings with his lord for a moment. Words were difficult, impossible, painful.  "If there are ramifications that…that can't easily be dealt with..I would want to know it was worth it. Please ."

His lord let out a harsh breath. Cliopher felt a sharp bolt of fear, followed quickly by something he couldn't quite identify—honour, respect—both, but also something more. "I don't deserve you, Cliopher." His Radiancy's words were almost inaudible. 

"My…Tor," Cliopher said. "This isn't about what you deserve, although you deserve everything and more. This is about my seeing you in pain, feeling you in pain down to your very soul and wanting, needing to help. I know I am not the moon. I can't call you my best beloved. It's treason to even think of you as my dearest friend, but…but I do." Cliopher felt a wetness in his eyes but knew his lord wouldn't hold tears against him. "Let me help you. Please ." He stretched his open hand across the short distance separating them. 

Emotions flickered rapidly through his lord's eyes, shifted tumultuously below the surface. He knew this moment was important for his Radiancy—a choice unlike any he'd had in a thousand years. While he might have grabbed Cliopher in the wake of his heart attack and clung to him after, he hadn't been properly lucid. He hadn't done it by choice. The last time he had touched someone, he'd been the emperor and the woman had almost died. Probably did die in the aftermath although his lord hadn't said so outright. And even that touch had been an accident. Not a choice.

Cliopher could hear his Radiancy's breathing, rapid and stressed. It was difficult not to worry about his lord's heart even as the kaleidoscope of his emotions kept shifting, shifting, shifting.

Abruptly, the kaleidoscope stopped. Without warning, without moving his hot gaze from Cliopher's eyes, Tor—for he could only be Tor in that moment—sat up and grabbed Cliopher's outstretched hand. Not gently. Not tentatively. Fiercely, as if he'd been thrown a raft mere moments from drowning. 

Cliopher broke their gaze and looked down at their clasped hands. His Radiancy's fingers twisted around his own, tight with the tension of a thousand and one hand clasps he'd never been able to have. Without a word, Cliopher offered his other hand. Tor took that one as fiercely, gripping both until Cliopher had to quirk his eyebrows in gentle chiding. "I will need to use my hands again at some point, my lord. You may not want to squeeze quite so tight."

Cliopher felt his lord's flash of embarrassment as his hands loosened the very slightest amount. "I'm sorry," his Radiancy said.

"I'm not," Cliopher told him, sincerely. "It doesn't hurt. Not in the way you're worried about."

The sun rose in Tor's eyes as they caught on his own. His Lord's magic flashed between them, joyous and ringing. It was almost painful to feel the tidal wave of wonder sweeping through Tor's emotions, to feel it subsume the exhaustion, the tiredness, the ache in his chest–blanket his worry, his fear, and his concern for Cliopher. So much emotion, so strong, so good. Cliopher wished the moment could last for as long as his lord had suffered the absence of such a fundamental need.

He wasn't sure how long Tor held on, didn't consider pulling away. The Palace of Stars could wait. Zunidh could wait. Their lord needed him more. 

Eventually, tiredness seeped back into the river of wonder. With a sudden yawn, Tor let go of one of his hands so he could fall back against the pillows again. His eyes, more fever bright but still steady, remained on Cliopher's own. "I know I should not monopolize your time, my dear Kip. Not when you're doing my work too. But, will you...Will you stay until I'm asleep?"

Cliopher turned his hand so that he was the one holding his lord's. He squeezed, ever so gently. "Yes, my dear Tor."

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Calm before the storm

That evening found Cliopher falling asleep waiting for the sky ship bringing his family to him. One moment he was sitting tiredly, watching the masts of the ship draw closer. The next, a hand was shaking his shoulder. "Kip?"

Blinking back the heavy press of exhaustion, Cliopher raised his head wearily to find his sister Vinyë leaning in close, her eyes full of mirth. An appreciative warmth filled his chest. Grinning, he clamored to his feet and swept her into an embrace. "Vinyë! You're here!"

"Oh Kip, you look exhausted. You didn't need to wait up for us."

 He laughed at the scolding. "Of course, I did," he said, squeezing her tightly one more time before letting her go so he could survey the rest of his visitors. His mother stood right behind Vinyë, her eyes weighty with concern. Next to her stood his Aunt Oura, his cousin Dora sound asleep in her arms. He'd expected them, but that didn't stop the warmth in his chest from kindling into a much larger flame now they were finally here.

And behind them, still others. "Cousin Zemius. Leona," he greeted. "I'm so glad to see all of you. Cousin Quintus! No one told me you were coming too."

His cousin laughed. "My ship made port the night before the sky ship did. Decided I should see the capital and the invitation was quite open."

 "Oh, I'm so glad," Cliopher repeated—then yawned mightily. He winced. "Sorry."

His mother frowned at him for a long moment, then took his hands. Her eyebrows raised at the gold covering his palms and speckling his forearms, but she didn't question, simply wrapped his hands in her own and squeezed gently. "Kip, you need to take better care of yourself. You're practically skin and bone."

"It's been a long few days, Mama," he admitted. "But it's late. I can tell you all about it in the morning. Why don't you follow me. I know Franzel has rooms ready."

Whether there would be enough rooms, he wasn't sure. He hadn't warned Franzel of this many guests. Worrying at his lip, waved a waiting page over. "Run and tell Franzel I'm bringing my family down. There are seven of them."

"Yes, Lord Mdang," the page said, rushing off.

Cliopher smiled at his family, the warmth still flickering in his chest. "It's a bit of a walk, but you don't have to worry about the luggage. The footmen will bring it."

Franzel was in fine form when they reached the Lord of Zunidh's apartments. In less than a quarter bell, the unflustered man had his family members dispersed to warm baths and beds. Weary but too excited to sleep, Cliopher read through a small stack of urgent papers and made a list of action items for the next day. His secretaries would be able to take care of most of them. For the rest, he wrote a quick note to Kiri.

Finished, he thought first of a bath and finding his own bed, but then his thoughts turned to his lord. Should he go up to the Imperial Apartments and check in? The thought of going even that far was a struggle, but he was on his feet and heading towards the door automatically before he realized his Radiancy was sound asleep.

Shutting his eyes in the quiet stillness of his office, Cliopher let his lord's ease fill his chest, banking the energetic fire that had sparked upon seeing his family, leaving only comfort and a sense of peace. So many of those he loved were within his reach, under the same roof. He headed to bed, knowing he might not sleep long, but at least he'd sleep well.

***

A sense of growing unease from his Radiancy woke Cliopher well before sunrise. There was no summons, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep with his lord awake and concerned about something—or everything. The Lord of Rising Stars would have countless concerns, heart attack or not.  

Knowing the day would get no shorter for staying abed longer, Cliopher took a quick bath and pulled on fresh robes. Tucking his writing kit into the crook of his arm, he headed towards his office. No doubt his family would sleep for several more bells, so best to try and get through as much as he could in the meantime.

On his desk, he found a dozen tidy piles of folders waiting for him, along with a note. He secretaries had clearly gone through everything already as the note contained a clear outline of how the piles had been separated, highlights of the most urgent matters he hadn’t needed to address the night before, and a proposed schedule of meetings.

"Perhaps I should have appointed secretaries before this," he said under his breath, stunned at how much Gaudy, Tully, and Zaoul had managed to do in less than a day. He let out a soft laugh. Kiri would be exultant when he admitted the thought to her. She’d been after him to do so since before he’d been appointed Lord Chancellor.

Setting the suggested schedule to the side, he pulled his appointments book out of his writing kit. Flipping it open, he stared longingly at all the green squares that denoted the time he’d carved out to spend with his family. No chance of that now.

He flipped to a free page and began drafting a new schedule based on his secretaries’ suggestions. At least the bulk of them wouldn’t start until tomorrow. Someone had obviously had the wise thought that he’d need a day to prepare. Kiri, most likely. No matter how good the trio might be, they wouldn’t have considered pushing off the Princess of Mgunai without a direct order.

The appointments today were mostly private ones—morning and afternoon meetings with Kiri, a status update with Aioru, a meeting with his Radiancy’s current secretary, and three touch points with his secretaries spread throughout the day. The only exception was an announcement to give an update on His Radiancy’s health. Daily? was written next to that one. It was a good suggestion; it might keep his schedule from being clogged by people wanting updates. The princes would demand his attention regardless, but he could put off many of the others with a regular update. He noted an affirmative.

Setting his revised schedule aside for the moment—knowing the additions were simply the beginning of what would be a chaotic fortnight—he pulled the nearest pile closer. The more he could get done before the official start of his day, the better.

***

Two bells later, Shoänie arrived with a cup of coffee and a plate holding a chocolate-filled bun and slices of fruit. “Thank you,” Cliopher told her, setting his current pile aside so she could set them down on the desk. “Are my family up?”

“Not yet, sir,” she said with a smile. “Would you like me to let you know when they are ready for breakfast?”

“Yes, thank you. Don’t expect it to be particularly early. They got in very late—and this is meant to be a type of vacation for them.”

“Of course, sir.”

Cliopher glanced at the remaining folders on his desk. He’d gotten through the key ones. The rest could wait.  Shutting his eyes for a moment, he focused on his Radiancy. His lord seemed restless, if still quite fatigued. There was no sense of demand or summons, but perhaps his lord would enjoy a visit regardless. Cliopher had, after all, promised to do better at showing his friendship—his love.

And he hadn’t yet had a chance to mention his family’s arrival to his lord. Given they were here at his Radiancy’s express invitation, Cliopher would be remiss not to mention it at the soonest possibility. His lord would want to know.

“Once I’m done my coffee, I’m going to head up to the Imperial Apartments for an update,” he said. “I don’t expect to be long, but if any of my family wakes, just tell them I am with his Radiancy and will be back very soon.”

“Yes, sir,” Shoänie said. “We’ll take care of them, don’t fret.”

It was the work of a few minutes to polish off the food and the coffee. Once he was done, he drafted a quick memo to his secretaries in case he didn’t see them when they arrived.

Finished, he made his way out into the hallway, then up the two flights of stairs and over three hallways to the Imperial Apartments. The guards on the doors opened them as he approached, continuing the trend of not questioning his presence at all, despite his Radiancy’s infirmity. Cliopher wasn’t sure what to think about that. It was impossible not to be astounded by the level of trust, but at the same time he worried about not living up to that trust.

He greeted each pair of guards somewhat absentmindedly as they ushered him through the anterooms, his mind still full of the strangeness of his position. Why weren’t the guards more concerned about the potential risk? Cliopher could feel everything his Radiancy did. Surely that wasn’t something to take so lightly? But ever since the moment of his lord’s heart attack, the guards had been treating him completely differently. Almost like he belonged there.

In his Radiancy’s office, Cliopher knocked quietly on the ivory door. Before he could even bring his hand down, the door opened—revealing Conju. The Groom of the Chamber had a knowing look in his eyes as he stepped aside and ushered Cliopher forward. “I thought you might appear soon, Cliopher. His Radiancy is in a bit of a state this morning.”

“He does seem a bit restless,” Cliopher offered. “I thought it would be best to come by before the day gets busy to see if there is anything I can do.”

“I am sure he will be glad to see you,” Conju said as they walked side-by-side towards his Radiancy’s bedchamber. “He does seem a bit more like himself this morning. He slept quite a lot after you came yesterday. I am certain the visit did him good.”

Cliopher glanced sideways, catching a small smile on his friend’s face. “I am simply glad he allowed me to help him. I wasn’t certain he would.”

“Rhodin is annoyed he lost the bet. Be prepared.”

Cliopher stopped abruptly. “What bet?”

“How long it would take his Radiancy to take advantage of your ability to touch him,” Conju said, a hint of humour in his tone. “He bet it would be at least another day.”

“Don’t the guards have better things to do given his Radiancy just had a heart attack?” Cliopher rubbed his temples, before quirking his lips up slightly. “Dare I ask who won?”

“Pikabe—although Ylette wasn’t far off. She thought it would take until this morning.”

Cliopher tried to imagine the prim and proper Lady Ylette betting on his Radiancy—then shook his head. “Does his Radiancy know that his household bets on him?”

“Of course not. Although, before you worry too much, I assure you that no money changes hands.”

“I would hope not!”

“Trust, me Cliopher. It’s all in good fun.”

Cliopher couldn’t help but release a long sigh. “I would tell you how inappropriate this is if I wasn’t certain his Radiancy—once he is recovered anyway—would laugh at the whole situation.”

 “Do you think so?” his friend asked.

Cliopher resumed walking, trying not to chuckle. “Can you not remember how his Radiancy showed up at my sister’s performance in Gorjo City? He may be the Sun-on-Earth, but he does have quite a sense of humour.”

“That was an excellent moment,” Conju agreed.

They were silent for the last few steps. As they reached the open doorway of his Radiancy’s bedchamber, Pikabe glanced out at them, spear firmly in hand, although not directed their way. “Lord Chancellor,” he said in acknowledgement, loud enough for anyone inside the chamber to hear.

“Pikabe,” Cliopher said much more softly. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

The guard’s eyes widened, but before he could say a word, Cliopher hurried past him to the centre of the room where he made his obeisances.

“Come here, my dear Lord Chancellor,” his Radiancy said, words inviting but emotions exuding unexpected annoyance. At him? Cliopher didn’t think so.

Holding his tongue, Cliopher stood and looked towards the bed.  His Radiancy was sitting somewhat upright, his back pressed against a mound of pillows. Assessing the Sun-on-Earth carefully, Cliopher realized that Conju had been telling the truth. His lord did appear much better—less drawn, the shadows under his eyes less pronounced. Cliopher moved swiftly to his side. “You’re looking much better, my lord.”

To his surprise, his Radiancy reached out a hand. Cliopher’s heart pounded, warmth spilling through his chest. He offered one of his own, carefully bringing it within reach, but leaving the Sun-on-Earth to take the last step.

His lord’s beautiful fingers wrapped around his hand. The grip was somewhat cool, but not clammy. “I am feeling much better, my dear Kip. I slept surprisingly well last night.”

“That is excellent news, my lord. But I would appreciate you following your physician’s direction that you rest.”

“Oh, I am more than satisfied letting you do all the heavy lifting for now, my dear Kip,” His Radiancy said, squeezing Cliopher’s hand. “What is on your plate for today?”

“You’ll be pleased to know that my family arrived safe last night on the sky ship. I’d forgotten they were due, but luckily Franzel reminded me.”

His Radiancy’s golden eyes brightened considerably as a spark of excitement shot through Cliopher’s spine. “Will you bring them to see me?” his lord asked.

“Are you sure, my lord? I wouldn’t call my family restful.”

“Bring them after lunch. They can entertain me.”

Cliopher nodded at the direct command. “Yes, my lord. I am certain my niece Dora will be delighted to step up to the challenge.” The sense of excitement grew, along with unexpected joy and expectation. His lord was truly looking forward to the visit—not simply being kind for Cliopher’s sake. The realization made something deep inside him melt. He’d share his family a thousand times over if it made his lord feel like this more often.

“I appreciate you won’t have as much time as you’d hoped with your family,” his Radiancy said a few moments later, somewhat ruefully.

“It’s not like you timed your heart attack, my lord. My family will understand,” Cliopher said. “And with Gaudy now one of my secretaries, I can entrust them to his attention. My mother might not appreciate it as much, but I promise you my sister will.”

“Your nephew. Yes, that is a good plan. It’s all to the good that you accepted Saya Kalikiri’s advice then.” His Radiancy offered a radiant, self-satisfied smile.

“Yes, my lord,” he agreed. “Given what I found on my desk this morning, I fully admit that I should have listened to Kiri much sooner when she suggested I appoint secretaries—Gaudy or otherwise.”

“So, they’ve already shown their ability to meet even your high expectations?” His Radiancy’s laugh was wholehearted, if still a bit wheezy.

“Dare I say it, they far surpassed it.” Cliopher shrugged. “It’s not like I gave them much direction. I didn’t have time.”

“I am glad to hear it then. I trust you will find ways to challenge them.”

“Of course. I am sure they wouldn’t have me do any less.”

They fell into a companionable silence. Cliopher glanced down at their connected hands. As he did, he saw his lord do the same. Something deep in his chest loosened; his Radiancy’s response or his own, Cliopher didn’t know. He tried to simply accept the soft feeling, but found it difficult. “Are you all right, my lord?” he asked finally, the feeling of rightness almost too right.

The Sun-on-Earth let out a long sigh. “Just mired in could have beens, my dear Kip. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Of course, his Radiancy would be thinking of a world where he could touch anyone he wanted to without fear. What must it be like to touch someone for the first time in so long? Was his lord thinking of who he’d have chosen to touch—to share his innermost feelings with—if he’d been given a choice rather than what had happened between them in the moment? Much as Cliopher treasured the feel of his lord’s fingers wrapped around his own, his emotions tangled with his own, he’d gift the opportunity to one who his Radiancy chose in a heartbeat if he could.

Not that he could say that. They were where they were. They were who they were. Cliopher couldn’t help but be glad there wasn’t a choice—that he was the one, regardless of if his lord would have chosen another.

It was difficult to imagine this connection ending, much less imagining if it had never happened at all. His Radiancy could as easily have grabbed Ludvic during his heart attack. How would the Commander of the Guard have responded? More professionally than he had, Cliopher was certain.

“Only a few more years, my lord,” Cliopher said, glad his lord couldn’t sense his—it wasn’t regret. He was glad his Radiancy could retire. It was more fretfulness as to how his own world would change. In a few years, he’d be back in the Vangavaye-ve and his Radiancy would be—well, likely not.

“A few more years,” his Radiancy echoed. Cliopher felt the weight of his lord’s lion eyes even without looking—brought his own up to meet them. A surging tide of power rushed through him, between them, resonating to the depths of his soul.

He turned his head away. Not thinking. Not feeling. It was better that way.

His lord’s hand pressed tightly around his own, then let go.

Chapter Text

Cliopher made it back to his apartments near third bell. He thought he might have missed breakfast, but Shoanie met him as he was coming in the doorway to say that his family had just settled down to eat. He hurried towards the dining room where, sure enough, most of his family was just settling down to coffee. His cousin Dora was missing, although there was a plate next to his aunt that had cookie crumbs scattered on it, so he assumed she was awake, if not quite causing havoc yet. At least he hoped she wasn’t.

“Kip!” his sister shouted, standing and hurrying his way.  “You were up very early. Did you sleep at all? You don’t look that well.” Kip let Vinye grab his arm and drag him over to a seat. “Quintus, pour him a coffee.”

His cousin Quintus laughed and did just that, passing over the full cup—which Kip took gratefully. Before he could say thank you, Franzel bustled in with a couple of attendants carrying platters of food. Cliopher didn’t recognize the two, suggesting his major-domo had enlisted some additional help given they had so many guests. He was glad for it, if somewhat concerned about the budget. He already felt guilty at how much the household his Radiancy and Conju had decided he needed cost—and his family visiting was most certainly not a work expense. He made a mental note to ensure that the additional funds needed were coming out of his own salary and not the Palace budget.

“Where were you off to this morning?” Vinye asked after he’d taken his first sip of delicious coffee.

“I had to attend his Radiancy.” Cliopher set his cup down on the table and twisted his hands around it to enjoy the warmth. “He’s been ill, so I’ve had to take up a lot of his work. I wanted to check in early so I’d be back in time to breakfast with you.”

“Oh,” his mother said. “I hope he’s not been too ill?”

Cliopher wasn’t sure how much to share with them, but they’d be seeing the Lord of Rising Stars soon enough and the main incident at least was common knowledge. “He’s starting to recover. He had a heart attack a couple of days ago.”

“Oh dear.” His Aunt Oura frowned. “Our visit must be quite poorly timed then.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I am simply glad to have you all here. I may not have as much time as I’d hoped, but I am sure we’ll make do. And Gaudy’s working for me now, so I can assure that he at least will be able to spend a lot of time with you all.”

“He is?” Vinye asked, her tone more excited than Cliopher would have expected.

He smiled and nodded. “Yes. I imagine he’ll be here shortly, along with my other two secretaries, Zaoul and Tully. It’s a new arrangement, but I am pleased so far. In truth, Gaudy has performed exceedingly well since he started working for the Private Offices.”

“He’s written a lot about working with you on various projects,” Vinye said. “He was very effusive about how much he enjoyed it and that he hoped he’d be able to work with you more.”

Cliopher’s cheeks warmed with pleasure. He enjoyed working with Gaudy, but he’d been concerned about how his nephew felt—particularly after his Radiancy had revealed their relationship. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Just then, Dora wandered in a side door, carrying a wrapped package of some kind. “Cousin Kip,” she said, making a beeline his way. “Look see, I brought a present for Lord Artorin. Cousin Vinye said you would give it to him for me.” She held the package up—it was flat and square, wrapped in simple brown paper and a red ribbon.

Cliopher managed to grab her gently before she could bash the package into his knees. “You can give it to Lord Artorin yourself,” he said, laughing. “He asked me to bring you all for a visit after lunch.”

Dora’s face lit up with glee, but before she could say anything more, Aunt Oura waved her over. “Dora, why don’t you bring that here and eat your breakfast.” His young cousin, easily distracted, ran around the table. “Did you hear? We’re going to see Lord Artorin after lunch.”

“Yes, dear,” Cliopher’s aunt said patiently.

“Are you sure, Kip?” Vinye asked, ducking her head close. “You said he was still recovering and, well….there are a lot of us.”

He laughed, taking a moment to squeeze her hand. “His Radiancy is looking forward to it, Vinye. I promise you that. He doesn’t get enough opportunities to see people he likes simply because he wants to.” And Cliopher could tell how much his Radiancy wanted to see his family. Even now, there was a low hum of anticipation coming from his lord. “And he’s used to being so busy, I expect he’s quite bored. I am sure he’ll appreciate some distraction.”

Vinye’s eyes widened. “Well, as long as he truly doesn’t mind. But what on earth are we supposed to wear?”

“I am sure my costumer Feonie can help with that,” he said, waving to Shoanie who was standing attentively against the wall. “Would you mind asking her?”

“Of course, sir,” Shoanie gave Vinye a kind smile. “I’m sure Feonie would be delighted.”

“Terrific then. After breakfast, I’ll leave you all to get sorted with Feonie while I get some work done. It’s not like I’m a good judge when it comes to clothing.”

“But you look magnificent, Kip,” his mother said. “Your robes are quite…”

He could only imagine what his mother was trying not to say. “The robes are simply part of my job. I wear whatever Feonie and Franzel come up with. Well, them and his Radiancy.”

“The Sun-on-Earth cares about what you wear?” Vinye’s eyebrows raised.

Cliopher felt his cheeks heat. “He is somewhat opinionated on what his Lord Chancellor should wear. I doubt it’s about me at all.”

Across the table, his cousins Zemius and Quintus exchanged looks Cliopher couldn’t interpret. “His Radiancy was kind enough to ensure I had appropriate robes for Cliopher’s appointment when I was here last time,” Zemius said after a moment. “The Sun-on-Earth seemed rather enthusiastic about ensuring Cliopher’s household was set up appropriately. I am not surprised that might extend to his clothing.”

His Aunt Oura hummed, drawing everyone’s attention. She didn’t share an opinion on his Radiancy’s habits, however. She simply nodded firmly, and said, “Well, we’ll have to make sure we don’t embarrass you too badly, Kip.”

***

After breakfast, Kip headed towards his office. He quickly realized that the piles on his desk had been changed out, which made him duck his head into the adjacent rooms looking for his new secretaries. Sure enough, he found the three young people sitting at a table in the Oak room, papers and reports spread between them.

“Lord Chancellor!” Tully said, hurrying to stand up, Zaoul and Gaudy following right behind.

Cliopher waved all three back to their seats. “No need to stand on ceremony here. We’ll be working together too closely to waste time with titles and whatnot. Did you all get breakfast?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“We wanted to get here early, sir,” Zaoul told him. “Gaudy said you’d probably have already read through the documents from yesterday, so we should get here soonest to make certain you didn’t need to wait on us.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” Gaudy smiled as his friends tilted their heads in agreement.

Cliopher couldn’t help but be glad that the three of them got along so well. It would make their work so much easier. It was impossible to forget his own lonely years in the Palace of Stars before the Fall. It hadn’t been until he’d started working for his Radiancy that he’d formed true friendships—with Conju, Rhodin, Ludvic, and… Well, he was glad his secretaries would have a very different experience. “What have you done so far this morning?”

“We’ve been through the messages that came in for you overnight—and left the important ones on your desk,” Tully answered. “Right now, we’re divvying up action items…prioritizing the instructions you left for us.”

Cliopher nodded, very pleased at their thinking and dedication. “Good work. Although I do need to throw a change at you—specifically Gaudy.”

“Yes, sir?” Gaudy asked.

“You recall our family had plans to visit?” His nephew nodded. “Well, they arrived on the sky ship last night.”

Gaudy’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” he said, immediately recognizing Cliopher’s challenge.

“Yes. They’re mostly finished breakfast, but you should go in and say hello.”

“Who’s here?”

“Your mother and mine, Leona, Aunt Oura, Cousins Dora, Zemius, and Quintus,” he offered, before adding, “Given how busy I’m going to be while they’re here, you’re going to have to spend a lot of your time keeping them entertained. I’ll give you my notes on what I’d planned for them to see and do. I will try and take part as I can, but…”

“You’re overseeing the entire world while his Radiancy recovers,” his nephew finished. “I’ll try and make them understand.”

Cliopher winced, doubting his nephew would make much headway with Cliopher’s own mother—although the rest might take pity on him. “I want you to prioritize the family while they’re here. You can help Zaoul and Tully when you have a chance, but otherwise you can make up time once everyone head’s home.” He doubted Zaoul or Tully would be resentful of Gaudy spending time with their family, but he didn’t want the two to think that Gaudy would get special treatment on a regular basis.

“Yes, sir,” Gaudy said. “What do you want me to do with them today?”

“His Radiancy asked me to bring them for a visit after lunch.” All three of his secretaries looked stunned at that revelation. Cliopher nodded, acknowledging how unique such an invitation was. Only Gaudy had seen how their lord had interacted with the family in the Vangavaye-ve—and even his nephew probably thought his Radiancy wouldn’t be accepting any visitors given his heart attack. “Feonie is going to help them get ready. Perhaps you can keep them from stressing too much?”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”  His nephew’s smile faded a bit. He probably knew it would be an impossible task. Everyone stressed when they had an audience with the Sun-on-Earth. Even if his family had met his Radiancy before, they’d never met him in the Palace of Stars.

He wondered what his mother would make of the seven anterooms in the Imperial Apartments. Might it help her begin to understand just what his job involved? Probably not. Shaking the vision from his head, he smiled at Gaudy. “You’re welcome to attend his Radiancy with them. I may not be able to stay if our lord wants more than a token visit. If that’s the case, you can see them back here safely afterwards. If they’re not too exhausted, feel free to show them around some of the palace.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaudy said. At Cliopher’s nod, his nephew stood and headed towards his private rooms.

***

With Zaoul and Tully’s assistance, Cliopher managed to clear off his desk for the moment and meet with both Kiri and Aioru. Once he’d sent the latter on his way, Cliopher stood and stretched his back. It was almost time to bring his family up to see his Radiancy. With that in mind, he headed towards the dining room.

He found his family already gathered, waiting for him—ready early in anticipation or anxiety, he wasn’t certain. He couldn’t quite tell from the wide mix of expressions. With the exception of Gaudy who had enough experience with his Radiancy now not to be too discombobulated—even if he hadn’t gone farther into the Imperial Apartments than the Sun-on-Earth’s public office before—his cousin Quintus looked the least affected by the upcoming meeting with the Sun-on-Earth. Of course, Quintus was a sea captain and had likely visited princes and other dignitaries on his voyages. Dora, clinging to her present for Lord Artorin, also looked more excited than concerned. Aunt Oura looked somewhat anxious, although she was smiling softly at Dora’s exuberance.

His mother and sister both looked much more uncertain, but it was Zemius who looked ready to keel over any second. Zemius, who had already seen his Radiancy in Solaara once. Cliopher sighed. Poor Zemius probably worried that he wouldn’t be prepared for whatever questions his Radiancy might ask him about his studies. Not that his Radiancy would do anything but ask Zemius to follow-up if he had a question he couldn’t answer.

Trying not to worry about Zemius’ penchant for fainting in the Presence, Cliopher smiled at them lovingly. He could appreciate his Radiancy’s anticipation, still fizzing deep within him, in this moment of looking at his family gathered close. Even though they’d met his Radiancy in the Vangavaye-ve—well, except for Quintus, who’d been on a voyage at the time—Cliopher was excited to have them meet again in the Palace of Stars. He dearly wanted them to understand why he was here, why he had stayed for so very long.

“We should probably go,” he said after a long pause. “It would not do to be late to an imperial audience.”

Cliopher gestured for his family to follow, leading them confidently through the maze of rooms towards the door—glad that all but one of them had not been there to see his first floundering attempts to find his way. Zemius, thankfully, would never tell. Quintus on the other hand, would never have let him live it down.

Just as they were entering the first receiving room, the door banged open. “Sirs, his excellency is about to leave for an appointment,” came Ewan’s voice from the hall—high pitched and more distressed than Cliopher had ever heard.

It was also the only warning Cliopher got before the two high priests came barging in. His breath caught in his throat. Seeing Iprenna and Bavezh dressed in the formal robes of their offices, complete with masks with slit-eyes—one representing the sun and one the moon—Cliopher knew, down to his soul, that his borrowed time had run out.

When nothing had happened immediately in the wake of his Radiancy’s heart attack, he’d put all his worries to the side in favour of dealing with urgent concerns. He’d set them aside despite his lord’s glowing fingerprints reminding him of the broken taboo each time he looked down. Despite the sense of his lord’s emotions filling his chest as if they were his own. Despite the feel of his lord’s magic buzzing softly through the marks on his skin, radiating through him, even flooding him like a rising tide when he met his lord’s eyes.

He'd known there would be ramifications. And he was willing to face them. He’d have done anything for his Radiancy at the time—would do anything for him even now. He’d only hoped that the consequences would wait until after his Radiancy was fully recovered. Until they’d had more time.

Was any time but forever long enough to be able to hold his beloved lord’s hand?

So many thoughts filled his mind, fighting for precedence even as the two high priests easily found him in the crowd of his family and stepped his way.

“Cliopher Mdang, you must come with us,” the one wearing the face of the Moon said. Cliopher had been in enough meetings with the two high priests that he recognized the speaker immediately as Bavezh, meaning that his partner Iprenna wore the face of the Sun.

The command in Bavezh’s voice was so strong that Cliopher stepped forward before he even realized what he was doing. He stopped dead as soon as he did. “We have a meeting with his Radiancy,” he said. “This will need to wait until after.”

“It has waited two days while we determined the cause of the magical disruption. It cannot wait any longer,” Iprenna said, his tone radiating censure. “There is but one answer to the breaking of a great taboo. Everyone knows this. It should not have waited. The entire world is hanging on a slim thread. Would you see it destroyed?”

“What’s he talking about Kip?” Vinye hissed in his ear, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Cliopher glanced at his sister, then caught sight of Gaudy standing at near attention right behind her. His nephew’s eyes were wide. He understood the implications of this summons. Knew the deeper meaning behind Iprenna’s words.

If there was one grace, it was that the high priest hadn’t come right out and said what he meant. Cliopher was being summoned to his execution. He hadn’t expected the moment to come so quickly. To be so immediate. Words caught in his throat. Explanations. Apologies. Goodbyes.

He sucked in a loud breath. He’d known this moment was coming. He couldn’t be angry when he wouldn’t change what had happened. Even now, he could almost feel his lord’s fingers wrapped like brands around his forearms, feel him pressed close in the dark of night, clasping his hands in the light of day.

To touch the emperor meant death. At least this way, his lord would not have to see it.

“Take our family up to see his Radiancy,” he said to Gaudy—calmly, oh so calmly. “We don’t want them to be late. I’ll deal with this.” Cliopher was desperately grateful his lord couldn’t sense his feelings. He held his lord’s anticipation close, tried to let it subsume the fear threatening to overwhelm him. Accepting that his death was necessary wasn’t the same as accepting it without hesitation.

Gaudy looked ready to argue. Cliopher shook his head, slightly. Better for the family to not know what was coming. To be told later, after it had happened. It was the only peace he could give them. His heart ached for his nephew, who would have to explain this—but there was no time to set in motion anything else. No time.

His nephew exceeded his every expectation, straightening his back with what looked to be a sense of purpose and commitment. He nodded sharply at Cliopher, before turning to his mother and the others. “Come,” he said, confidently, assuredly. “We must hurry to reach his Radiancy in time.”

Not understanding any of the context, Vinye allowed her son to take her arm and lead the way out of the Lord of Zunidh’s apartments. Cliopher watched as the others followed. His mother. Zemius. Quintus. Leona. His Aunt Oura. Dora was the last to go, swinging the package containing her gift. Cliopher wouldn’t get to see what it was.

“I’ll keep Lord Artorin company until you can,” she said, matter-of-factly—more poised than even one of the princes before a personal audience with the Sun-on-Earth. He managed a smile for her. It was even, mostly, real.

***

Cliopher followed the two high priests through the Palace of Stars and down the hallway leading to where the Ouranatha elders, including the two high priests, had their apartments and magical workrooms. He’d never had occasion to visit any of the Ouranatha, getting more than his fill of the secretive priests during their open meetings with his Radiancy and the rare occasions he’d had to meet with them as Lord Chancellor.

The journey took some time, the priests not particularly inclined to speed but fully aware of the presence they cast in the palace. Residents and visitors alike stopped to watch their passing, giving the masked priest-wizards anxious looks and Cliopher sympathetic glances. Not that any of the onlookers would know why Cliopher was with the high priests. He expected the rumours would be flying already, although whether they’d spread faster than the truth, he wasn’t sure. It probably depended on which was the better story.

He was led into a windowless cell no larger than his private sitting room. With the exception of the wooden door, the cell was lined with stone panels inlaid with what he assumed were some form of magical containment. Not that the priest-wizards needed to worry about containing him. His lord had told him many times that he had no magic whatsoever.

Whatever the containment was, it didn’t stop his inner sense of his Radiancy. His lord’s anticipation hadn’t changed, so Gaudy and his family hadn’t reached the Sun-on-Earth yet. Probably making their way through the anterooms—unless Gaudy had told one of the door guards what had happened. If that were the case, they’d likely summoned Ludvic and Rhodin for instructions. That might take some time, whether they were elsewhere in the palace or guarding his Radiancy and needing to be replaced before being able to investigate.

Much as he would do anything for his Radiancy, he did not want to bear the burden of causing him grief. Selfishly, he didn’t want to feel that grief as his own either. Not when he couldn’t offer comfort. He expected his lord would be saddened by the loss—not only of his Lord Chancellor, but possibly even Cliopher as his friend.

At least he’d admitted that in the wake of the heart attack: that he thought of his Radiancy as his dearest friend.

“There are preparations for the ceremony to be made,” Iprenna said, words devoid of emotion. “Remain here. Eat the food that’s been laid out for you. Drink the wine.”

“When?” Cliopher asked. No need to use more words than that. They knew what he was asking.

“Soon. We will come for you at the next bell.”

As Iprenna left the room, Bavezh turned to face him head on.  While Cliopher couldn’t see behind the high priest’s mask, the man’s stance loosened slightly. “Cliopher Mdang. Your death is required to sooth the distortions in the magic, but that is all. It will be painless.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, the priest-wizard turned and slipped out of the room. As the door closed, there was a loud thrum as the magical containment engaged. He could only imagine what the containment might feel like to a real wizard.

He turned away from the door. The room didn’t hold much. A simple wood table and two wood-backed chairs. On the table was a plate of food—sliced bread with some kind of spread already layered on it—and a glass of herbed wine. As he moved to take the chair, Cliopher caught a whiff of the wine: a hint of sharp and sweet combined.

He wasn’t certain what would happen if he didn’t follow the command to eat and drink, but there was no reason not to make this easy on everyone involved. So, he ate the bread one small bite at a time, letting each get into his stomach and settle before taking the next. In between, he took sips of the wine. After the first few sips, his eyes started to lose focus. His thoughts grew muzzy and thick. Pressing away from the table, he tried to stand, but the floor was moving too much. He slipped down to the stone. It was delightfully cool, so he laid back fully, stretching out. It wasn’t as comfortable as his lord’s bed, he thought idly, much as he enjoyed the feel of the coolness through his robes.

Laying there, blinking his eyes shut against the now spinning room, feelings jangled deep within his chest. Distress. Anger. Rage. But a heavy cloud separated him from it, kept him from wondering at the cause. He knew he should know, but that knowledge was lost, set adrift on an ocean current. Like he was.

***

Cliopher roused at the sounds of shouting, although he could barely lift his head.

“His Radiancy demands Cliopher be brought to him, now where is he?” came a voice he knew he should recognize. “Where is he?”

Someone responded, words less loud, less clear.

“If you don’t move, we have permission to make you,” came a different voice—also familiar.

A loud crack sounded in his ears. Cliopher fought to open his eyes, finally managing to force his eyelids up—but the view was blurry, indistinct.

The door to the cell burst open, bringing a cacophony of noise and black robed figures.

“Do it now,” one cried. “Hurry. There will be chaos if it’s not done.”

Cliopher tried to move away from the voice, tried to shout. Managed nothing more than to turn his head towards the ceiling. His eyes alighted on a slender length of shining metal raised above his head. That he recognized. As the knife descended, he tried to move, barely managing to lift his hands in a vague show of defence.

A dull thud echoed through the cell. Slowly, the robed figure holding the knife collapsed, the sound of the blade on stone sharp in his ears. Weight pressed heavy on his chest: the robed figure, no longer moving.

“Be still,” a voice commanded. Cliopher froze, not that he could move. He could barely breathe. But the voice wasn’t talking to him. Between one moment and the next, the robed figure was rolled off his chest. He drew in a soft, wheezing breath.

Someone knelt at his side. Through blurred vision, he made out a bare chest, oiled. Something twigged in his mind. Recognition. This person was safe. Safe. He let his eyes droop shut.

“Cliopher, stay with me. You’ll be all right. I’ve got you.” Hot hands grabbed his arms, pulled him upwards. His robes shushed against his skin. Too loud.

Another voice, hard as steel, emotionless: “You must not interfere. Do you want another Fall?”

“If you think his Radiancy would let you do this…”

“That is why we must. He would never do what needs to be done. Not this. Not him. It must happen. Cliopher Mdang understands this. He accepted this.”

“The Lord Chancellor is an idiot!”

Cliopher let out a soft gasp as the one holding him up raised him completely off the ground. He found his head resting against someone’s chest. Not the chest he’d have preferred, but he couldn’t voice his dismay.

“Rhodin, you go first. Pikabe, Ato—keep them back. If any try to follow, do what you must. Try not to kill Bavezh. His Radiancy will want to speak with him.”

“Should we bring him with us?” Rhodin. That name sounded right.

“Not now,” the one carrying Cliopher said sharply. “Pikabe, after we’re gone, lock him down. Keep him here until he’s summoned.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Let’s go.”

***

The person carrying him was strong. That’s as much as Cliopher’s fogged brain could recognize as he was carried at a shockingly fast pace somewhere. He couldn’t open his eyes to watch their passage; hard enough to keep even a thin train of lucidity. The heavy clouds pressing down on his consciousness willed him to let go, but there was enough anger pulsing in his chest that each time he tried, feelings sharp as cactus needles roused him.  

They went up a flight of stairs, footsteps echoing through high ceilinged halls.

“We aren’t going to be able to hide this,” someone said. “That was the Prince of Western Dair.”

“Cliopher can deal with it when whatever they drugged him with wears off.”

“Are you certain we shouldn’t bring him back to his own rooms? At least until he can walk?”

“Would you disobey Him now, Rhodin?” The person holding Cliopher barked out a laugh. “It was difficult enough convincing him to stay—that we could get to Cliopher a lot quicker if we didn’t need to concern ourselves with the possibility that he’d have another heart attack running to Kip’s rescue, if not the heart attacks half the courtiers would have had seeing him do so.”

They went up another set of stairs. And another. The person holding him stopped. Feet stamped. Something else too. Spears: Cliopher’s mind drew the answer from a millennium of fuzzy memories.

The one carrying him hurried forward. More feet stamped. More spears. When did the sound of spears hitting the floor become safe?

Doors opened. Closed. So many doors.

“Is that Kip?” a woman asked, tone bright with concern. Cliopher’s heart recognized her but could not bring her name to his lips.

“Yes. He’s been drugged, but he’ll be fine. Wait. Here.” Rhodin ordered, even as the one carrying Cliopher continued forward, relentlessly forward.

A different door opened. A different woman said, “Ahhh, Lord Mdang! Will he be all right?”

“He should be.”

“Thank the gods. His Radiancy would have…”

“Burned the Ouranatha to the ground?”

“If not the palace. Hurry. They’ve had an impossible time trying to keep him from following you.”

The one carrying him kept moving, taking softer steps now—quieter.

“Thank the Sun,” someone said, softly, under their breath.

“My lord,” the one carrying him announced. “I have him.”

Relief swamped the rage still simmering in Cliopher’s chest. “Bring him here, Ludvic.” This voice Cliopher knew as well as his own. His voice. It rippled through him, resonated through him, seared through him with a soul-deep recognition no fog could hide. “Lay him down. Gently. Gently. Should we send for Domina Audry?”

Cliopher lost focus as the one carrying him set him down carefully on something soft. So very soft. “He’s been drugged, my lord, but nothing that won’t wear off. They hadn’t…started the ceremony yet.”

The one whom he loved cradled his head carefully, tucked an arm under his shoulders and pulled him close. His cheek came to rest against something delightfully warm, welcoming. A heartbeat thrummed in his ears, steady, reassuring. Gentle fingertips danced across the side of his face. Sparks danced across his skin, radiating relief and love and more than a hint of annoyance. “My dear Cliopher, when you’re awake, we’re going to have a talk as to what a reasonable response is when someone wishes to kill you.”  

Chapter Text

Dying was a lot easier than Cliopher thought it would be. He was warm. Arms were wrapped tight around him. His entire body felt soft, and relaxed, and oh so very comfortable. Like he was exactly where he should be.

The only off-key note was a tangled knot of concern and annoyance and apprehension sitting close to his heart. It sat there like a rock—unmoving, a dam in a river. Slowly, it bore down on the feeling of comfort, prickling at his nerves until he realized he still had nerves. He wasn’t simply a consciousness waiting for the Sea of Stars to carry him onwards. He was here.

He opened his eyes. Blinking, a foamwork canopy came into focus, alight with the steady glow of mage lights. Shifting his eyes sideways, he saw a line of opaque panels. It only took a moment to realize exactly where he was. After all, this was the third time he’d found himself there: in his Radiancy’s bed.

Which meant—“My lord?”

“My dear Kip,” came his Radiancy’s response, loud in his ears only because he was close. “You have a lot to answer for.”

Cliopher shook his head and moved to sit up. “One moment Kip, let me move,” the Sun-on-Earth said. He held still as the arms around him released, and someone—his lord, his shocked thoughts identified—shuffled noisily sideways. “You can move now.”

He pushed himself up to sitting. He knew where his lord was and was quite afraid to look directly at him, so he looked away from the bed instead, only to find several pairs of eyes watching him way too intently.

Conju was closest, sitting in the same chair right at the side of the bed that he’d been sitting in that morning. Assuming it was still the same day, of course. Cliopher had no way to tell if it was. Three additional chairs had been pulled out from some hidden storage space. Ludvic and Rhodin filled the first two of them—Ludvic in his white kilt and leopard skin pelt, his sword-belt tucked under his chair and his spear leaning against the wall just behind him, and Rhodin in the lesser panoply. A quick glance towards the door revealed Varro and Zerafin on duty. Ludvic had either recently come off duty or, perhaps, was about to go on.

The biggest surprise was the person in the final seat. “Vinye?” he said, incredulously.

His sister glanced over his shoulder, no doubt at his Radiancy. The Sun-on-Earth must have made some indication as she hurriedly stood up and stepped towards the bed. Cliopher, feeling more than a bit befuddled by the strange situation, scooted to the side just in time for her to throw her arms around him and drag him close. She held on tightly for a long moment, before letting him go. Then, she stepped back slightly and gave him a good swat to the head. “What in the Wide Seas did you think you were doing?”

“Vinye!” Cliopher managed, bringing his hand up to belatedly fend her off. When she made no motion to hit him again, he rubbed his head. Then he remembered exactly where he was. Cheeks flaming, he turned. “Pardon, my lord,” he said, embarrassment lacing his words. He couldn’t bow properly while sitting on a bed, so he lowered his head instead.

“You’d be better served apologizing for making us all incredibly upset, my dear Kip,” his Radiancy said.

Cliopher looked up at the admonition, his eyes meeting his lord’s with an almost audible sizzle. On Lesuia Island, such a meeting had caused his eyes to sting and burn, requiring drops. Now, his lord’s magic surging across the connection felt more like two melodies coming together in perfect harmony. His entire being resonated with the tune for a fleeting moment before the music faded away like the wisps of smoke from a newly lit flame.

Disconcerted, Cliopher glanced down, scrunching his hands in the silk of his over robe. He focused on what his lord had just said. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, refusing to look at anyone. “I thought it would be better to get it over with. I thought it would be easier for all of you.”

“Easier? To not find out until you were gone?” No doubting that Vinye was livid. Every one of her words stabbed like a prickly thorn.

“You don’t understand,” he tried to say.

“Oh, I do. Trust me, Kip. I do.” Vinye’s words remained sharp, but her tone mellowed from anger down to near devastation. “While you were out of it, your lord explained. Some magical taboo was broken and you took it upon yourself to die rather than let him find a better resolution. I thought you loved him? How could you do that to him? To us?”

Cliopher’s cheeks grew hot. He looked up at his sister’s practically treasonous words, then stole a quick glance sideways to capture his Radiancy’s reaction. His lord’s face was drawn, tired, near defeated. A well of upset burned in Cliopher’s stomach. More than annoyance now; his lord felt disheartened—no, more than that: bereft.

Faced with his lord’s dejection, Cliopher’s every argument fell away. He’d assumed from the moment the Sun-on-Earth had grabbed his arms that he was on borrowed time. That his life was forfeit. Surely the Ouranatha wouldn’t have demanded his death if there was another way. And the broken taboo had caused a magical disruption. The high priests had referred to it when they’d come to collect him.

But his lord was devastated. Did that mean there had been another option? That there was one? Given he hadn’t actually died, Cliopher assumed the magical disruption was still a problem. If not with his death, how could it be fixed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He looked at his lord, met his sizzling lion’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His Radiancy let out a slow, audible breath. “Do not discount the value of your life, my dear Kip. Zunidh could not easily survive your loss.” His lord’s tone was soft, almost matter-of-fact.

Cliopher didn’t agree with the statement. He had notes to cover every disaster scenario, including his own death. The successful transformation of the government should not be dependent on any one person—not even him. Especially not him. There were a half-a-dozen other bureaucrats who could fulfil his role if it were needed. His loss would not be devastating to Zunidh. If it was, he hadn’t done his job well enough.

The turbulent emotions twisting in his chest kept him from voicing the denial. His lord believed his words to the depth of his being. Perhaps later Cliopher could explain his emergency plans. Now was not the time. Right now, his lord, still recovering from an almost deadly heart attack, needed reassurance.

“I won’t, my lord,” he said, simply. “I appreciate I made assumptions about what would be required. I should have spoken to you.” That, at least, was honest truth. Cliopher knew nothing of the magical consequences of a broken taboo, and the last time this one had been breached was before the Fall. Perhaps he’d given the high priests too much credit. His lord was the not only the Last Emperor of Astandalas. He was the Lord of Zunidh. If anyone would know what was needed to fix a magical disruption, it would be him. And his lord wouldn’t spare Cliopher’s life, not at the expense of the entire world.

“Good,” his Radiancy said, the turbulence in his emotions easing, reconfiguring into something warmer, kinder. Forgiveness, Cliopher hoped. The Lord of Rising Stars looked past Cliopher. “Saya Vawen, I expect you will have your own words for our Kip.”

“I won’t ever let him live this down, my lord, even if the rest of the family never hears the full story,” Vinye said. “Your Lord Chancellor might be quite wise, but my brother Kip can be an idiot at times.”

His Radiancy laughed; Ludvic and Rhodin both joining in. “I am glad Kip has someone to keep him from getting too big for his hat. Thank you Saya Vawen.”

Vinye took the Sun-on-Earth’s thanks as a dismissal, although Cliopher wasn’t completely sure his lord had meant it as such. “Thank you for sharing the truth with me, my lord—and for doing whatever you can to keep Kip safe.”

“I will do my best, Saya Vawen. While the options for dealing with the broken taboo may not be optimal—or easy to manage, I can promise you that none of them require your brother’s death.”  Cliopher could feel his lord’s certainty, a strong complement to the vehemence of his words.

“Thank you, my lord,” Vinye said, standing up and making a surprisingly good obeisance. She’d obviously practiced since meeting his Radiancy in the Vangavaye-ve.

The Sun-on-Earth nodded, managing to convey serene benevolence despite being propped up in bed. Cliopher idly wondered how his lord might look with hair splayed against the white pillows. He expected his Radiancy’s hair might be far less serene than he was. His cheeked warmed at the thought.

“Tell the rest of your family that I look forward to seeing them properly tomorrow,” his lord said, not privy to Cliopher’s random thoughts.

Vinye smiled. “I will, my lord.”

“Conju, please see Saya Vawen back to Cliopher’s apartments. Tell them he won’t be back until late as we are still dealing with the ramifications of his summons by the Ouranatha.”

“Yes, my lord.” Conju bowed, then offered an arm to Vinye.

Cliopher watched his friend and his sister depart, grateful that his sister was the only family member to whom his lord had given his confidence. Although he did wonder how that had come about. He’d have to ask Gaudy when he had the chance. His nephew also deserved an apology—and thanks. If his death wasn’t truly needed to address the broken taboo, his nephew had saved his life.

***

The bells rang, bringing Cliopher out of his momentary reverie. “Is that…”

“Sunset,” Ludvic answered. “You were out of it for several hours.”

“Ah,” was all Kip managed. He wasn’t sure what more he could say at this point. No, wait. There was something. Tucking his feet up on the bed, he turned so he could face both his lord and Ludvic and Rhodin. His hands trembled at the informality of the motion, but his lord didn’t say anything about it, so he tilted his head in acknowledgement to Commander Omo.  “Thank you Ludvic. I don’t remember much—but I do remember that you kept someone from stabbing me.”

“I simply helped you after the fact, Cliopher. It was Ato who brought Iprenna down.”

Down. Cliopher knew instinctively what that meant. He remembered the press of the black robed body. He shuddered. “Is Ato…?”

“It is what we train for, Cliopher. Ato will be fine.” His friend gave him a fierce look. “Do not apologize to him. He would do the same thing again in a moment. He understood our orders and he also understands your worth—even if you don’t.”

Cliopher glanced at Rhodin, who simply nodded his agreement. There was nothing more to say about that apparently, much as he felt particularly guilty that Iprenna had died. The high priest had been doing what he thought was necessary after all.

A small voice in his head wondered whether the high priests should have also asked his Radiancy for his opinion before taking matters into their own hands. If his Radiancy had touched someone else—Commander Omo, perhaps—Cliopher doubted he’d have taken the high priests’ desire to execute them as easily as he’d taken... Oh.

He wanted to look at his Radiancy, but the flood of embarrassment made him look down at his hands instead. Gold marks shimmered on his hands, his forearms, his upper…Cliopher looked up, feeling a question on the tip of his tongue, but already knowing the answer.

His Radiancy was the one to look away this time. “I admit,” he said, making a vague choking noise. “When Ludvic and Rhodin brought you here, I was concerned for your well being. I didn’t think before I reacted. You have a few new marks.”

Cliopher could feel his lord’s embarrassment as well as his own, although there was something else there too. He refused to consider what it was.

“At least the marks on your face are very light,” Rhodin said. Cliopher glanced at his friend, who brought his fingertips to the side of his own head. “There’s a faint sheen of gold running down your left cheek—Just a hint though. People might think it’s makeup.”

“There’s also a swath on the back of your neck.” Ludvic’s words were almost apologetic, as if Cliopher might be dismayed. “But when you’re properly dressed, I expect it won’t be visible.”

“I do apologize Cliopher,” his lord said. Apologizing was not something the Sun-on-Earth was supposed to do. Cliopher expected half the court would want to kill him if they learned he’d made the Lord of Rising Stars so disconcerted that he’d think to do so.

“I am happy to wear the banners of your affection, my lord,” Cliopher said, honestly. He must be imagining his lord’s feelings. There was no reason for his Radiancy to feel delighted. Unless it was simply his gladness that Cliopher wasn’t more upset.

 Cliopher stretched out his arms, turning them different ways to catch the light. The gold glistened. No, he could not be in the least bit upset. He smiled at his lord.

“You are quite ridiculous, my dear Kip.” The Lord of Rising stars huffed, then sighed. “I do expect we should focus on the matter at hand, however.”

“My lord?”

“The high priests may have overstepped their power, but they did have the fundamentals correct. The broken taboo has had ramifications on the magic of Zunidh. While Ludvic and Rhodin were saving you—and then again while you were recovering from whatever they gave you—I’ve been considering how best to address those ramifications.”

The seriousness in his lord’s voice was mirrored by the sudden concern twisting through Cliopher’s stomach.  

There was a long pause. “My lord?” Cliopher said again.

His Radiancy looked up. Their eyes met, as they so often had in recent years, but with the surge of magical resonance Cliopher was coming to realize as normal in the wake of their physical contact. “Your death might soothe the disruption, but that is one option I refuse to condone.”

Cliopher waited out another long pause. He recalled something his Buru Tovo had repeated many a time when he was small. Listen first. Questions later.

“One option is for you to go through the full rites of purification. For the duration of it, you would not be able to work.”

Cliopher winced at the thought of losing four months—particularly four months right now. While others could do his work, with him alive, he expected any action would simply be delayed or deferred until afterward the rite was finished. But that would… “That would set back the plans for your retirement.”

His Radiancy nodded. “It would be a small price to pay to resolve the issue. And I expect it might be the least offensive option.”

“But not the only option?”

“I don’t believe so.” His lord steepled his fingers across his chest. “The challenge with the full rites of purification is that I am not convinced they would relieve your ability to sense me as deeply as you do now. The rites are meant to either cleanse a person or object in advance of coming into contact with me—or to alleviate the stress of a broken taboo on Zunidh.”

Cliopher assumed his face gave away his complete lack of understanding as his lord added, “In your case, they’d ameliorate the wound in the world that has attached to you as a result of my taking your arms during my heart attack.”

Cliopher couldn’t help the full body shudder at the thought of that. Of causing a wound in the world. In the face of that, how wasn’t death the preferred option?

“What it wouldn’t do, necessarily, is ameliorate the effects of my magic on you. As long as we didn’t touch again, those effects wouldn’t get any worse—but they also wouldn’t get any better.”

“I can live with it, my lord,” Cliopher said immediately.

“I am sure you could, Cliopher. And of anyone, I would trust you with my innermost feelings at any time.” His Radiancy sighed.

“Then what’s the concern, my lord?”

Uncertainty bloomed in his chest, causing his heart to stutter. The Sun-on-Earth twisted his lips into a wry smile at Cliopher’s discomfiture, no doubt aware it was his own feelings causing it. “The problem is that such a thing should not have happened in the first place, but it did. That makes me think there’s something more going on. That choosing the simple answer might come with its own consequences.”

Cliopher wasn’t sure what to say to that. He knew nothing of magic. Could hardly begin to understand its impacts and ramifications. His knowledge was of laws and the Lays, songs and stories. He knew plenty of stories of magic, but none of the realities of it.

“Cliopher,” Rhodin said suddenly, drawing his attention. “Just after our lord’s heart attack, do you remember how I described what was wrong?”

Cliopher scoured his memories. “Didn’t you say something about how it wasn’t just schooled magic that was out of alignment?”

“Yes, I said it was more chaotic than that. That wild magic had gotten caught in the muddle somehow, causing the issue to be substantially worse than it might have been otherwise.”

His Radiancy grimaced. “It’s called wild magic for a reason, my dear Kip. Sometimes it reacts to what a wild mage wants, regardless of what schooled wizards believe is possible. Other times, it’s as if wild magic is its own being—as if it acts for a reason none of us know. I wonder what drove wild magic to fuel this connection you have with me.”

“Why does the why matter, my lord?” Cliopher asked, trying to read between the lines of his lord’s words and the miasma of feelings roiling beneath the surface. Uncertainty. Hope. Possibility. Longing? Deep emotions, all overshadowed by a sense of duty, of responsibility. He couldn’t tell what his lord wanted, but he knew whatever it was wasn’t the possibility anyone else might choose as a matter of course.

His lord had said it once, hadn’t he? He’d described it as the stuff of legends. But who was the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, and the Last Emperor of Astandalas, if not a legend?

Kip met his lord’s eyes, certain. “You want the connection to go both ways. That’s the other option.”

Chapter Text

His Radiancy was quiet, his eyes focused on his hands clenching the edge of the comforter. Cliopher wanted to offer his own hands in support, but didn’t want to break his lord’s train of thought. The Sun-on-Earth’s emotions were chaotic—stretching from concern to uncertainty, hope to horror. It was unsettling, not at all calm. If others could feel the Lord of Rising Stars all the time, they’d be hard pressed to call him serene.

Despite the inner turmoil, Cliopher kept his silence. Kept still. Look first. Listen first. Ask questions later.

After a while, his Radiancy shook his head. “This isn’t about what I want, my dear Kip. It’s about what decision is best—for Zunidh and for you. My own wants and needs should have nothing to do with this decision.” The Sun-on-Earth let out a choked breath. Cliopher tried not to choke on his anguish.

“The challenge is that with the involvement of wild magic, there’s no easy answer to what the right decision is,” his lord said, anguish bleeding into the tenor of his words.

Cliopher glanced to Rhodin and Ludvic, both visibly dismayed to see their lord so emotional, so uncertain.

His Radiancy swallowed audibly. His eyes came up, then darted away before Cliopher could meet his gaze. “And every choice leaves you changed, Kip. Every one. I can’t think of a single option that doesn’t change your life, change it—”

“My lord,” Cliopher interrupted. “When the high priests came today, I expected to be executed. I was ready to give up my life to make whatever balance was needed. I’d still do so if that were the best option.” He waved his hand so his lord and friends would know he wasn’t going to belabour the point. “You say that every option leaves me changed. Fine then. We can make a plan to deal with any changes, to ensure they don’t affect what we’ve been trying to do. But if there’s a decision made, I—we, need to know all the options.”

"Oh Kip, I wish every problem could be solved with an eight-hundred-page report." His lord offered the briefest of smiles before pressing his lips back to a serious line. The tumult of his emotions slowed, shifted to resolution.

“The first option could fix the immediate issue: the wound in the world caused by the broken taboo pulling the tapestry of schooled magic out of alignment,” his Radiancy said. “My concern is that the interplay of wild magic could create new complications we can’t predict. It would also leave you feeling my emotions for the rest of our natural lives. It’s only been a few days. I have no idea what that might mean for you long-term, whether in a few months—or a few years.”

Cliopher nodded. The only real concern he could see with that option was the wild magic. It made little sense to move forward with the purification rites to solve the schooled magic issue not knowing if the wild magic would remain entangled and cause worse damage in time. Ignoring it in favour of solving the easy issue did not seem wise.

"The second option would, as you guessed, see us following in the footsteps of the Wild Mages of old—completing the bond initiated accidentally during my heart attack," his Radiancy continued. "Everything I've read about the connection is more legend than fact—stories of what was possible before the Empire of Astandalas become so antithetical to wild mages."

"But you mentioned it was a bond only formed between mages. I'm no mage." Cliopher frowned. Surely that couldn't have changed.

"No, you have no magical ability whatsoever, my dear Kip," his Radiancy confirmed, much to Cliopher's appreciation. He had plenty to concern himself with without adding magic to the equation.

"But, because of these–" his Radiancy reached across the bed to clasp one of Cliopher's hands, then ran a warm finger across one of the gold marks, "—You have my magic in you, woven through you, around you. That magic, even if you can't do anything but feel its resonance, would be enough to anchor the connection."

Cliopher couldn't help the small thrill of wonder at the thought—to have such a legendary connection with the one he…it was more than anything he had ever dreamed of. “What would be the concern with that?" Cliopher asked hesitantly, trying to shift his focus away from the impossibilities his younger self had once imagined. Given his lord’s distress, the concerns had to be significant. "If it would solve the issue of wild magic, it would make the most sense, wouldn't it?"

"Completing the connection would give us the same magical resonance in the eyes of wild magic." His Radiancy squeezed his hand, then set it down gently on Cliopher’s knee. "Completing it, however, would still only solve one half of the tangle. To solve the other half, we'd need to undertake rituals of schooled magic so that it did the same. Doing so would pull the tapestry of schooled back into alignment with Zunidh, healing the wound in the world fully."

"But if schooled magic saw you as the same, wouldn’t Cliopher become subject to the taboos?"

Cliopher startled at the unexpected voice, twisting around to see who'd entered the room. Conju stood halfway between the bed and Varro and Zerafin, eyes wide, hands visibly trembling.

Cliopher froze as an intense blast of self-hatred blazed through his chest, tightening his heart. His hands curled into fists as his entire body shuddered. What seemed like forever later, hands came down on his shoulders. "Take a breath, Cliopher." Rhodin's voice was soft but full of demand. "Come on now. Breathe."

Oh. He wasn't breathing, was he? Cliopher drew in an aching gasp of air. Another. On the third, he was able to push aside his lord's emotions and look at Rhodin. The guard stood at the foot of the immense bed, the panels around him all askew. He met Cliopher's eyes calmly, oh so calmly. "Better?"

Cliopher nodded, unclenching his hands slowly. Rhodin drew his hands back, studied him for a long moment, then tilted his head, likely at his Radiancy. "My lord?"

"I apologize, my dear Kip,” his Radiancy said softly, both words and emotions laced with contrition.

Cliopher schooled his face to calm. Breathing deeply, he turned to face his Radiancy, settling back into a cross-legged position. “It's quite all right, my lord. You must feel what you feel." He wasn't about to speak on such a personal topic as his lord’s painful emotions with an audience although, given what he was feeling, he expected his Radiancy might prefer that topic, no matter the difficulty, to their current conversation.

Cliopher glanced over at his friends just as Rhodin settled back into his chair. Conju had already returned to his seat, while Ludvic remained a stalwart and quiet presence in his. "I admit you surprised me, Conju. I missed exactly what you said. Something about the taboos?"

His friend glanced anxiously at his Radiancy, but the Sun-on-Earth didn't say a word. Conju sighed. "I wondered if schooled magic sees you as the same, whether you'd be subject to the taboos."

***

In the ensuing silence, Cliopher realized why his Radiancy's predominant emotion was self-loathing. His lord had never married. Never had children. He hadn’t wanted to subject another to what he himself had gone through. No doubt the last thing he wanted to do to resolve this situation was to have Cliopher forced to deal with something he himself hated.

But his Radiancy couldn't believe that making such a choice would be his fault, surely? His lord was the prisoner here. Not the jailor. This terrible choice was not his fault.

Cliopher glanced up at his lord. The Sun-on-Earth was silent, neutral, serene. It was a serenity and calm Cliopher once would have accepted as fact, but no longer could. Not when he could read below the surface, feel his lord's turmoil roiling in a rhythm different to his own. He was better at identifying his own emotions at this point—even if he couldn't block what his lord felt—and they were churning like his little Tui-tanata in a typhoon.

Or perhaps his lord loathed the fact that he wanted the bond to go both ways, regardless of the other ramifications. And he truly did. Cliopher could feel that deeply, no matter how his lord was trying to bury it. What he couldn’t understand was why his lord wanted to feel his emotions so badly. It couldn't simply be reciprocity. Not when the connection would be for the rest of their lives. Forging it to understand Cliopher's thoughts at any given moment seemed beyond excessive. Even after he retired, his Radiancy would never be completely free of him.

"If I were only the Lord of Zunidh, I'd not hesitate to suggest the second option," his Radiancy said stoically, showing no emotion despite the treacherous currents running below the surface. Anyone watching might think his lord considered this no less fraught a discussion than one about the budget (not that his Radiancy cared to discuss the budget these days. He had been more than happy to delegate those decisions to his Lord Chancellor). "But I'm not. I'm the Last Emperor of Astandalas and I still have the remnants of the magical bindings that one held five worlds together clinging to me. It will be the work of years to see them fully removed. There’s no way to hasten that process."

Cliopher drew in a quick breath. There—that was an opening. A way to perhaps…"It is work that is ongoing, my lord—and it will need to be completed before your quest. That alone makes this decision quite simple. You've dealt with the taboos for a millennium. I could live with them for a few years if it is the best way to ensure the wound in the world is fixed and that there is no potential for worse issues to arise."

His Radiancy shook his head. "My dear Kip, this isn't a decision you should make so quickly. You need time to think about the ramifications. It’s not just the taboos. Such a move would also mean giving me access to all your emotions—perhaps more—for the rest of our lives. There are no records of what a fully completed bond would entail. I expect it might be well beyond what you're experiencing now."

Cliopher felt warmth at his lord’s concern—so similar to his own. It was impossible not to think of a clam shell, two sides reflecting each other near perfectly. "I trust you, my lord," he said honestly. He couldn’t explain why. Could not open himself so far—not here, not now. This was a difficult enough discussion for his lord without admitting his highly treasonous feelings.

His true feelings. His lord would learn them soon enough if the magical rituals worked. Cliopher shuddered. He trusted his lord more than anyone in the nine worlds, loved him beyond rational thought, but being so vulnerable: what if his lord hated him once he learned the truth?

"You understand now," his lord said, so softly, so gently, his eyes near glowing as he caught Cliopher’s own. Cliopher couldn't nod. Didn't want to admit the hesitation, the reality of his fear.

"You need time," his Radiancy repeated. "To think everything through. To learn more. To talk with your family. Such a move would affect them as well. Particularly for the next few years."

And wasn't that a distressing thought. He could only imagine what his family and friends in the Vangavaye-ve would think if they couldn't touch him. Couldn't hug him. He'd always been the one who left. But if he became untouchable, what more would they say?

Thankfully his lord couldn't feel his trembling emotions—yet—but his Radiancy had never had much trouble reading his face. His lord, no doubt seeing his growing concern about his family, quirked a lip up slightly. "We could not move forward immediately in any event. My magic needs time to recover. I need time to recover." As if to punctuate his words, the Sun-on-Earth let out a fierce yawn. "We also need to appoint new high priests, who will need to be consulted on the appropriate schooled magic rituals. There is no need at all to make a decision at this very moment."

Cliopher let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He wasn’t averse to the decision. That didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate time to come to terms with the enormity of it. And if his lord thought Cliopher was giving the option more consideration, it would at least alleviate some of his concerns. "Thank you, my lord," he managed. "It's a lot to consider."

His Radiancy nodded solemnly in agreement. "For now, you should return to your family. Reassure them that you're well, then eat and get some sleep. I expect you'll have a full day tomorrow. I am assured the drug you were given should have no lasting effects, so you should be able to resume your duties—and, alas, mine as I have been told I will not recover fully without far more rest."

His lord's expression was aggrieved but the exhaustion trying to permeate Cliopher's bones gave truth to the statement. "I suspect it is a valid suggestion, my lord.”

His Radiancy huffed. "And you would know, intimately."

Taking that as a sign of dismissal, Cliopher shifted into a kneeling position. There was no less awkward way to get off the massive bed, so he crawled as quickly as he could to the side and slipped off before turning back. He moved to make his obeisances but stopped at his lord’s sharp gesture.

"Send Gaudy to me. He can help write an announcement regarding what happened today. That at least is one thing I can do for you," his Radiancy said. "And bring your family back tomorrow for a proper visit. Perhaps at second—”

Conju coughed pointedly.

"--make that third-hour."

"Yes, my lord."

"Here Cliopher, put this on." Cliopher turned half a step so he could see Conju, who was holding out a navy over robe. "You need to look presentable. As if nothing of import has happened."

Given the time that had passed, surely the entire palace knew what had happened with the Ouranatha. Deciding it was far too late to argue, Cliopher took the robe and slid into it. The fit was perfect. Conju must have sent down to Franzel for it given that the robe wasn't what he'd been wearing when the Ouranatha had arrived. Knowing his friend, he doubted he'd ever see that particular robe again. Not when he'd almost been executed in it. "Thank you, Conju," he said, blinking back unexpected tears.

***

Ludvic and Rhodin followed him out of his Radiancy's chamber, down the hall, and through the ivory door into his lord's office. When they continued to follow him through several of the anterooms, he turned to face them. "Is there a reason you're following me? You know I'm more than capable of finding my rooms."

"His Radiancy asked us to,” Rhodin said bluntly.

Ludvic nodded. “You're to have a pair of guards from now on, but I haven't had a moment to schedule anyone yet, so you're stuck with us tonight." The Commander of the Imperial Guard no doubt saw his consternation, as he added, "Don't worry. We'll just see you to your apartments, then I'll go and make a rota for you."

If anything, that made Cliopher feel worse. "And I can't argue otherwise?"

"You could try talking to his Radiancy in the morning, but he was not impressed that you were almost killed today.”

In other words, it would be a futile effort. Cliopher sighed. "Can you at least walk with me?"

Rhodin snorted. "Best get used to it. Just ignore us like you would if we were guarding his Radiancy. He would be upset if we didn't see a threat coming because we were socializing—."

"It's only when we're on duty," Ludvic cut in, relenting enough to offer a slight smile. "I assure you that won't be very often given our existing duties and guarding his Radiancy. You are more likely to see the door guards. Guarding you will be good preparatory training for working more directly with Him."

"That's right. Think of it as providing up-and-coming imperial guards with practice. I'm sure you can get behind that,” Rhodin said.

Cliopher supposed that was true. If guarding him meant they could guard his Radiancy better, he couldn't argue. "Fine," he said, not particularly graciously, before turning to resume his progress out of the Imperial Apartments. He tried to ignore the room’s guards who were doing a poor job of hiding their mirth at the entire situation.

It didn't take long to navigate the path to his apartments. While a few people were out and about in the halls, none approached him directly—perhaps put off by Ludvic and Rhodin. As he approached, Ewan opened the door. "Lord Mdang, so glad to see you back," the footman said, looking much relieved from the morning.

"Did you stay on duty all day?" Cliopher asked.

When Ewan tried to prevaricate, Cliopher gave him a knowing eye. He'd stared down princes, so he wasn't surprised when the man bowed his head in acknowledgement. Cliopher shook his head, somewhat bemused. "Take tomorrow off, Ewan. You've more than earned it. I'm sure one of your fellows won't mind stepping in." After a moment, he added, "I'm perfectly fine. Truly."

"You're heading off?" Cliopher asked, turning to his friends.

"I’m not getting between you and your sister," Rhodin said immediately. Ludvic elbowed him. "Right, unless you need us, Cliopher?"

Cliopher couldn’t help but laugh. "I'm fine, as I said. I'll see you tomorrow."

After watching them depart, Cliopher hurried through his apartments, hoping Gaudy had stayed with his mother. After a few fruitless attempts to find them in the dining room and in the room Franzel had given to Vinye, he found his nephew and sister having a cup of chocolate in his sitting room, curled up on his battered but well-loved furniture.

"Kip, you're back!" Vinye hopped up from the couch to grab him. He wrapped his arms around her carefully. After a few moments, she squeezed him hard, then let go.

“I’m back. I’m fine,” he said, before turning to his nephew. "Gaudy, you deserve an explanation, but his Radiancy wants your help writing an announcement. He asked me to send you up. I'm sorry it's so late."

Gaudy smiled way-too-brightly given the hour. "It's all right Uncle Kip…sir. I'll just grab my writing kit." With alacrity, Gaudy hugged his mother before rushing out of the room—showing more excitement for a late night of work than Cliopher would. Then again, Gaudy was significantly younger.

"How did Gaudy get his Radiancy's attention so quickly?" he asked his sister once they were alone.

"Gaudy said something to the guard who challenged our arrival. I didn’t hear it, but whatever it was got immediate attention," she said with a small shrug. "The next thing we knew, Gaudy had gone in to speak to your lord and a woman was there saying that there'd been an emergency and we'd need to wait to see his Radiancy. She had a page bring us back here. Gaudy came for me later, once you were…recovered."

Cliopher's eyes widened at the sequence of events—so unlike what he would have expected to happen. He'd have to ask Gaudy. His sister must have missed something.

"Your lord was quite upset, Kip,” Vinye continued. “No, more than that. Incensed. He was so angry I could feel his magic vibrating…and that was after knowing you were safe. I've never felt anything like it.

"He is the Lord of Zunidh.”  

Vinye wrapped her arm around his and pulled him down onto the couch. “Is there something you need to tell me Kip?” She knocked his shoulder with hers.

He had no idea what she was talking about. His expression must have spoken for him, because she gave him a disappointed look. "I'm just glad you're all right, Kip. If something had happened to you, I expect your lord would have…"

"He would have accepted it eventually.” He wouldn’t have had a choice.

Vinye shook her head. "I don't know how you can't see it, Kip, but your lord loves you dearly. If you'd have died…."

Cliopher took her hands and squeezed them gently. "I didn't. And my lord is committed to seeing it remain that way."

 "Good.” She was silent for a long moment. "I can see why you stayed."

 He met her eyes. She smiled gently, tentatively, lovingly, knowingly. "He's your Aurelius Magnus."

Cliopher's cheeks warmed. She turned until she was the one holding his hands. "But you need to know that you're his Elonoa'a."

Surely his lord didn't care for him so much. Respect him, trust him—yes, but love him? It was treason to imagine it. Vinye didn't push. He was grateful. "My lord has invited everyone to return in the morning at third bell—that's nine o'clock."

"He said as much, although didn't give me a specific time. I’ll make sure the others know.” She gave him a long look. "You should go to bed, Kip. You look exhausted and Gaudy says you have a busy day tomorrow."

"My lord is still recovering from a heart attack, so I need to be available to provide reassurance. Particularly after today," he said. "Don’t worry, I'll be fine."

"And you won't ever do this again?"

"I'll do what I have to, Vinye. If it's between me and the world, I'd choose the world." At her frown, he added, "My lord assures me that won’t be required. Although I doubt the alternative will make mama happy."

She raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of himself, which he knew was a reflection of his Radiancy. "I am not ready to talk about it. Not yet."

 "When you are…"

 "I know," he said, squeezing her arm gratefully.

***

Cliopher slept soundly, only waking when Shoanie arrived with a cup of chocolate and a pastry at the first bell of the morning. Before long, he was bathed, dressed, and in his office catching up on what he'd missed the previous day.

At least he hadn't had any meetings with the Princes scheduled; those were all on today’s schedule. Not quite back-to-back he saw, but he'd have to rush back after bringing his family to see his Radiancy to be ready for the Princess of Mgunai.

Before he worried about those, however, he looked over the statement his lord had made the previous evening. Gaudy must have come back after meeting with his Radiancy to ensure Cliopher had a copy.

The announcement was surprisingly direct. The Lord of Rising Stars had reached out for Lord Mdang to help ground him through his heart attack. Yes, a major taboo had been broken—not by the Lord Chancellor, but by his Radiancy himself. The High Priests of the Ouranatha had overstepped their position to address the broken taboo so the Sun-on-Earth had sent guards to rectify the issue. In the ensuing tussle, Iprenna had died and Bavezh had been removed from their position. New high priests would be appointed shortly.

The statement ended with the Sun-on-Earth's assurance that the Lord Chancellor was unhurt after the incident and that the magical ramifications of the broken taboo would be dealt with in due course.

Cliopher was somewhat astounded by the complete lack of prevarication, at the fact he was deemed completely innocent in the matter. The Sun-on-Earth was never at fault. Such an announcement stating otherwise was quite unprecedented.

"Everyone knows of his Radiancy's regard for you, Lord Mdang," Kiri informed him when she arrived at the second bell. "This will simply confirm that fact in their minds. The only true question will be about the magical ramifications."

He sighed audibly. "His Radiancy and I are considering the options. The most likely solution will—well—cause complications of a different sort. But that must wait until his Radiancy has recovered. In the meantime, I am uncertain how much he would want me to discuss the matter. Once we’ve confirmed the situation, you’ll be the first to know.”

"Yes, sir," Kiri said. They’d worked together long enough that she knew he’d tell her as soon as he could rightfully do so—which he would. "Shall I give you an update then?"

***

Gaudy arrived shortly after Kiri left. His nephew looked no worse for wear given he had to have been awake long past midnight writing and disseminating the announcement. Cliopher knew his nephew’s quarters were a solid twenty-minute walk from his own—which was a long way in the middle of the night, if significantly closer than the quarters he’d inhabited since getting out of the pages and the day he’d moved into the Lord of Zunidh’s apartments.

“You could have slept in if you needed, Gaudy,” Cliopher told him. “I’m fully aware of how late you must have been up.”

“I know what your day looks like, sir. I wanted to catch you before you dove into it. Besides, his Radiancy said he’d invited the family to return at third bell this morning, so I would have arrived soon anyways.” Gaudy gave him a dark look. “Can I speak as your nephew?”

“Of course,” Cliopher said.

Gaudy didn’t say anything right away. He paced to the window, glanced outside for a few moments, then took a visible breath. Cliopher knew his nephew had to be extremely troubled after the previous day’s events. He had the time to wait until his nephew was ready to speak.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Gaudy said, finally, hints of anger in his voice. “What did you expect to happen?”

Cliopher sighed, then met his nephew’s eyes. He had to be honest. Gaudy deserved that above all else. “I expected to die,” he said simply. “I’ve known since the moment our lord grabbed my arms that death would be the result. A great taboo was broken. Death always follows cases like that. It’s the way things have always been. I was only glad it likely wasn’t going to hurt as badly as it would have before the Fall.”

“But his Radiancy loves you!” Gaudy said baldly. Cliopher choked, but before he could scold his nephew for saying something so incredibly treasonous, his nephew added, “And everyone knows you love him too. It’s not even a well-kept secret. I was asked about it within two days of people finding out that we were related."

The room suddenly seemed scorching hot. Cliopher brought a hand up to his cheek. Yes, very hot. “I do hope you know better than to speak on such treasonous rumours,” he managed.

Gaudy rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do, Uncle Kip. Not that everyone didn’t see my keeping silent as silent affirmation. I mean, his Radiancy refers to you as his beloved Lord Chancellor every chance he gets. He doesn’t refer to anyone else that way.”

Cliopher rested his head in his hands, envisioning the headache he was going to have by the end of the day even though it had barely started. “Enough Gaudy, he’s the Lord Emperor. The Sun-on-Earth. Your ultimate superior. Show some respect. This is not something to joke about.”

“You’re as clueless as mama always said you were, Uncle Kip.” Kip raised his head to find Gaudy holding a hand over his mouth, possibly trying to hold back a snicker. His nephew grinned. “I do see your point, however, Lord Mdang. His Radiancy obviously feels significantly about you. How could you choose death over talking to him? He’s your ultimate superior too, after all. Surely you should have demanded to speak to him?”

Cliopher didn’t want to hurt his lord any more than he had to. He’d thought letting his death happen quietly was the only thing he could do to alleviate his Radiancy's potential pain. He hadn’t wanted to put his dearest friend, his—his everything, in the position of having to agree to his death—or worse, having to cause it. He’d seen his Radiancy's grief after Woodlark. 

And yet. And yet. His lord had saved him. Had refused to even consider any solution where Cliopher died, even though the remaining options would all leave Cliopher with unhindered access to his deepest feelings—forever. That had to mean more than his Radiancy worrying about what his Lord Chancellor's death would mean for his retirement plans. He refused to consider Gaudy's suggestion. It was too close. Too ridiculous. Too impossible.

He could admit one thing, however.  Cliopher met his nephew's eyes somewhat ruefully. “You're right, Gaudy. I should have asked to speak to him.”

Chapter Text

Shortly before the third bell, Cliopher tucked the last of the documents requiring his immediate review and signature away in a folder, then put it on the top of the pile for Zaoul and Tully to deal with when they arrived—which would be at any moment. Knowing he wouldn’t have time after visiting his Radiancy with his family, he also arranged the notes Zaoul had prepared for his meeting with the Princess of Mgunai so he would be ready for her immediately upon his return.

Only then did he head deeper into his rooms to collect his family for their informal audience. Similar to the previous day, they were gathered together in the dining room, although there seemed to be less anxiety hovering around them this time. Well, Zemius still looked like he was about to faint, but there was no helping him. Cliopher would have thought meeting his Radiancy previously would help his cousin feel less anxious, but apparently not. At least the others looked more excited than ready to turn their stomachs inside out.

“Oh Kip, you’re finally back,” his mother said, hurrying over to grasp his arms. She studied him intently. “You’re looking very tired. Did everything get resolved yesterday?”

Cliopher glanced at his sister, who shook her head slightly to indicate that she hadn’t passed on the details of what had actually happened. “I’m fine, Mama. A few things came up related to my lord’s heart attack. I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to be away all day.”

She pursed her lips but squeezed his hands once before letting go. “We do know you’re very important here, Kip.”

Too important she was probably thinking. But there was nothing he could do about that. His family had never really understood what he did. All they appreciated was the fact that he’d left. His stomach gave a sick lurch as he considered again how poorly they’d take not being able to touch him for what could be several years. And the inability to touch was simply the worst of the taboos. If he visited home during those years, they’d have to adjust to everything else too. 

Thinking of the other taboos his family would have to deal with if he returned to the Vangavaye-ve before his Radiancy’s quest reminded Cliopher that he should appreciate his food choices while he had them. Perhaps Franzel and Shoanie could be convinced to provide more fresh fruit at each meal. If he was going to have to do without for an extended period of time, he should make certain to enjoy what he could while he had the opportunity.

He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate his blossoming headache. As he exchanged morning pleasantries with his cousins Quintus and Zemius, his thoughts continued to race in other directions. He latched onto the realization that while his family would only need to be concerned about the taboos if he visited—and he could avoid doing so quite easily given the amount of work required before his lord’s quest—his household would be an entirely different matter.

He’d need to speak to Conju about what the risks would be and how he could best avoid them. Even he could admit he wasn’t particularly talented at remembering etiquette. He had been the one to accidently meet his Radiancy’s eyes during their first meeting after all—a story that was retold time and again within the Palace of Stars whenever he did something outside of what was considered appropriate.

He winced at what possible damage he could do to the magic of Zunidh without thinking when he had to abide by his Radiancy’s taboos. At least that one was no longer in force.

“Cousin Kip!” Dora hollered, running into the dining area, reminding Cliopher of his more immediate concerns. He’d have to consider the rest later. “Are we going to see Lord Artorin now?”

His young cousin waved the gift she’d brought for his Radiancy over her head. The packaging was somewhat rumpled. She’d probably carried it around since the previous day. “Yes, we are,” he told her. “But Lord Artorin has been sick recently, so you are going to have to be on your best behaviour.”

“I know, Cousin Kip. I’ll be good!” She beamed at him. “I hope my present makes him feel better.”

“I am sure it will, Dora.” Cliopher took a quick moment to feel out his Radiancy, but all he sensed was happy anticipation. His lord did not seem quite as excited as the previous day, his anticipation cut through by a sharp sense of anxiety, guilt, and concern. Those feelings were his own fault, Cliopher knew, but he couldn’t think of any way to alleviate them. Hopefully receiving visitors would help. Dora, at least, would likely prove unaffected by the Imperial Apartments—and Vinye had already seen his Radiancy under far more trying circumstances than a familial visit. Not that his family was his Radiancy’s of course, but perhaps his lord would find them an adequate stand-in.

As he started prodding his family members toward the doors of his apartments, Ludvic and Rhodin appeared, dressed in their ordinary uniforms rather than the fancier dress they wore when guarding his Radiancy.

“We thought we’d escort you all to the Imperial Apartments,” Ludvic said, giving Cliopher a pointed look. “Koloi and Mbangale will be by later. They’ll have the day shift. Do ensure you don’t go anywhere without them.”

Cliopher nodded in acquiescence, knowing there was no use arguing with Ludvic when he was acting in his position as Commander of the Imperial Guard. Instead, he introduced his friends to his family quickly, before waving them all to hurry. While his rooms were not far from the Imperial Apartments, it wouldn’t do to be late.

His excited family attracted a wide range of looks as they traversed the three hallways and two staircases leading to their destination. Cliopher didn’t bring their watchers to the attention of his family. He was almost certain knowing that they’d passed the Prince of Western Dair and several other senior members of the court would make them more anxious rather than less.

Despite the events of the previous day and the dissemination of the announcement, no one tried to attract Cliopher’s notice or attention. Ludvic and Rhodin in uniform perhaps helped with that, or sheer wonderment at the somewhat boisterous group Cliopher was escorting. Usually, visitors to the upper echelons of the Palace were much more subdued.

As they approached the double doors to the Imperial Apartments and the two impressive honour guards standing before them, his family calmed significantly. Cliopher could only be grateful for the sudden quiet. While the guards on the Imperial Apartments had been far-too-informal with him lately, before his family they executed an impeccable show of ceremonial—and actual—strength and solidity, a reflection of their steadfast commitment to his Radiancy’s protection.

The guard on the left offered the traditional challenge.

"My family,” Cliopher told him. “Here at his Radiancy's invitation.”

The guards saluted magnificently in perfect unison, before opening the doors to allow them entrance. “Lord Mdang and his family,” one of the guards announced before motioning them forward. Cliopher’s mother nodded at the guards respectfully, even as she let Vinye take her arm and guide her across the threshold. The rest of his family took her lead, offering their own polite nods to the guards as they passed. Cliopher was beginning to relax when Dora stopped suddenly in front of the taller of the two guards, craned her neck up at him and asked, quite abruptly: "Is your spear sharp?"

The guard’s lips curled up fractionally at Cliopher’s obvious distress. He tilted his head to look at Dora before saying, very seriously, "Indeed, it is Sayina."

Dora’s eyes widened to saucers. As she allowed Leona to take her hand and tug her into the first receiving room, she asked, "Cousin Kip, does Lord Artorin have a lot of enemies?" loud enough for everyone within earshot to hear.

One of the first antechamber’s guards laughed outright. Cliopher desperately tried to keep his own face straight. "Not too many these days, Dora," he answered calmly. "But he is very important so the guards are here to honour him and protect him."

The guards in the room nodded in solemn agreement—or it would have been solemn if they weren’t smiling remarkably cheerfully at Dora.

"Oh, that's good then,” his cousin said. “Lord Artorin is nice.”

Cliopher would have to remember to share the exchange with his Radiancy the next time his lord was having a bad day. He expected his lord would be delighted. He was called serene and benevolent quite regularly—but nice was another description all together. It was so, so informal. Yes, his lord would probably love it.

Thankfully, Dora was silent for the rest of the journey through the anterooms, although several of his family members remarked on the distinctive and increasingly fancy and foreign décor. His cousin Quintus was particularly interested in the decorations, but then, he’d probably seen all levels of wealth on his trading adventures.

In his Radiancy’s office, Cliopher pointed out the desk he’d spent many years working at. “At least you had a lovely view,” Vinye said. When he glanced at her sharply, she gestured to the porcelain vase he’d always adored—even now, the iridescent peacock blue tugged at his heartstrings.

“It is magnificent,” he agreed, before knocking firmly on the ivory door. Lady Ylette, beautifully elegant in a forest green kimono with silver embroidery, opened it a bare moment later. "His Radiancy invited my family to visit him," Cliopher told her.

"Of course, your excellency."

Cliopher kept silent as Lady Ylette welcomed his family, complimenting his mother most graciously, before leading them down the hallway towards his Radiancy’s bedchamber. She shared a few details of the design of the inner rooms as they walked. He was certain he’d never heard his lord’s costumier speak so much and felt a surge of appreciation for her as she worked to make his family more comfortable before their informal audience with the Sun-on-Earth. He would have to thank her for the kindness later.

As they approached his Radiancy’s chamber, Ato stepped out. "Your excellency," he said politely, formally, eyeing each of Cliopher’s family members in turn.

"I have brought my family to visit at his Radiancy's request. Is he ready for them? We can return later, should it be needed?" Cliopher knew his Radiancy was looking forward to the meeting, could feel his anticipation, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions.

"He's been looking forward to your family's visit, your excellency,” Ato said, a hint of humour in his eyes. “Lord Mdang and family,” he announced, before stepping back into the room.

Inside the Sun-on-Earth’s bedchamber, Cliopher’s eyes were immediately drawn to his Radiancy. His lord was sitting up in the massive bed, dressed in fresh robes of white and Imperial yellow. His straight back pressed against a large but tidy pile of pillows. While worry lines wrinkled his forehead, his eyes were bright with anticipation and he looked heathier than he had since having his heart attack.

Cliopher ached with relief. He might be able to feel his lord’s emotions, but that didn’t mean he fully understood them. Seeing his lord looking remarkably better, while also feeling his wakefulness and anticipation, spoke to Cliopher’s heart like nothing else could. While he could still feel his lord’s great anxiety, at least it was not his primary concern for the moment.

When he reached the prescribed distance, Cliopher offered his obeisances, rising immediately at his lord’s gesture. "My family, my lord," he said, formally.

At his Radiancy's nod, Cliopher introduced them. His family members showed far more grace with their bows than they had when the emperor had surprised them in the Vangavaye-ve. Cliopher couldn’t help but feel delighted that they’d taken the time to practice.

"Welcome to the Palace of Stars," his Radiancy said, words soft but with an obvious tenor of welcome. "I am delighted to see all of you again, although I do wish I were in better shape to receive you. I hope your trip from the Vangavaye-ve went well?"

"It was wonderful!" Dora said, hurrying towards the bed. Before Cliopher could intercept her, she stopped—thankfully a few steps away from his Radiancy. "I remember, Cousin Kip!" she said hotly. "I just wanted to tell Lord Artorin how much I appreciated getting to come visit you on a sky ship."

Cliopher exchanged amused glances with his lord as Dora went on to do just that, telling the Lord of Rising Stars quite dramatically just how much she appreciated his kind gesture. When her enthusiasm finally wound down, she raised her package. "I brought you a present, Lord Artorin."

His Radiancy’s eyes widened in complete surprise. He looks uncertainly at Cliopher, before turning back to Dora. "The proper thing to do would be to give it to your cousin,” he said kindly.

Cliopher took the gift from Dora and presented it to his Radiancy with all of the flourishes he could think of. His lord’s amusement and affection radiated through him, a bright warmth swamping all his current worries. His Radiancy opened the gift, smiling somewhat bemusedly. It was a drawing, framed simply.

"It's from your visit, so that you always remember us!" Dora informed him. "I wrote everyone's names down and everything. See, there you are next to Cousin Kip."

"It is very lovely, Sayina Dora. I will treasure it immensely." Cliopher knew how much his lord meant his words. He was—astonished Cliopher thought, basking in the feeling. Had his lord never received such a gift before? His own heart dropped as he realized that no, his lord likely wouldn’t have.

Cliopher watched as his Radiancy handed the drawing to Conju, who set it carefully on the table next to the bed.

"Lord Artorin?" Dora piped up again moments later, completely unaware of precedence.

"Yes, child?"

“Cousin Kip said you had a heart attack. You’re not going to die, are you?”

Cliopher's mouth dropped open, and he doubted his was the only one. He was about to try and say something when his Radiancy laughed, not at all offended by the question. "I am doing very well Sayina Dora, better now thanks to your visit. I hope I will not die for quite a long time.”

“We’re glad to hear it, my lord,” Cliopher’s Aunt Oura said kindly, stepping up to wrap her arms around Dora and pull her gently back.

"Yes, very glad, your Radiancy," Quintus added. "We were quite concerned after yesterday." Cliopher appreciated that his cousin didn't ask directly—he at least understood the proper etiquette for speaking to the emperor—although the question was heavily implied.

Focusing on his lord, Cliopher sensed an undercurrent of appreciation, humour, and something else—mischief? His eyes widened.

The Lord of Rising Stars noticed his reaction and raised an eyebrow. Before Cliopher could say anything, his lord gestured him to approach. Without thinking, Cliopher moved to stand close to his bedside, turning diagonally so he could see both his lord and the members of his family.

His lord smiled at him and Cliopher's heart lurched sideways. He felt overwhelmed, star-touched, in love. Those emotions couldn't be his lord’s, he realized. Perhaps their connection was fading somewhat, letting his own emotions shine more fiercely through.

"I suspect Kip hasn't told you very much about what happened when I had my heart attack?" his Radiancy asked, ignorant of Cliopher’s emotions. The Sun-on-Earth glanced at the Mdang matriarch, then Vinye, then the others.

"No, my lord," his sister answered, giving Cliopher a sharp look. "My brother isn't particularly good at sharing personal information even when it's critically important.”

His Radiancy's lips twitched. "She has you there, Kip."

"My lord!" Cliopher’s cheeks burned. "It wasn't my news to share."

His lord released a long, audible sigh. "I see I should start at the beginning," he said, radiating both fondness and frustration. "I should have known our dear Kip wouldn't say anything given it took me acknowledging his relationship with Gaudy before he allowed himself to do so."

Cliopher looked over at his nephew. Gaudy was standing quietly behind the rest of their family, visibly trying not to laugh. Cliopher had thought that particular incident an accident. Apparently not.

His Radiancy rubbed his chest. "When I had my heart attack, I admit I was in significant pain. I don't remember much of it. Your son…brother...cousin Kip—" he said, looking first to Eidora, then to Vinye, and lastly to Dora. "—hurried to my side, spoke to me so I would know I wasn't alone—so my spirit would know where I belonged and wouldn’t leave.”

"At some point during the attack, I grabbed onto Kip and used him to keep myself here." With these words, his Radiancy reached out and took Cliopher's nearest hand in one of his own, pushing his sleeve back with the other so that their watchers could see the scattering of gold marks clearly. "But my doing so marked him." Cliopher shivered as his lord ran a finger down his forearm.

"I shouldn't have touched Kip," the Sun-on-Earth said apologetically, letting go of Cliopher's hand and shifting his gaze between the various Mdangs. "But I did. Part of what happened yesterday was an attempt by others to mitigate the magical impact of a great taboo being broken."

Cliopher’s stomach grew queasy, but his lord only said, "I rectified the situation. As Lord of Zunidh, it is my right and responsibility to manage the magical implications of what happened. I needed the time yesterday to discuss those implications and the various options with Kip. I admit, the options aren't without significant ramifications, but it’s no one else’s decision to make. Kip and I will decide the best way to move forward.” He smiled at Cliopher, and Kip couldn't help but smile back.

"The marks are quite striking, Kip," Vinye said, studying him intently. "You even have one on the side of your face—just by your ear. And they really aren't tattoos?"

Cliopher shook his head. "They seem to be impressions of his Radiancy's magic—left where he's touched me," he explained, running a hand down the side of his face. He'd forgotten that one. "You know I don't have any magic, but I can feel…well, a kind of resonance from the marks."

"Lord Artorin?" Dora broke in, quite plaintively. "I have a question."

"What is it, child?" His Radiancy gave Dora a patient nod, waving for her to go on.

"Before, when you visited, you said you couldn't touch anyone. But now you can touch Kip, right?"

"Yes," he said, grasping Cliopher's hand to prove the point despite having just touched him. "Right now, I have to be a bit careful where I touch him since you don't want your cousin to be covered all in gold, do you? But yes, I can touch him."

The feeling of intense pleasure caught Kip off guard, but he could easily understand the joy his Radiancy must be feeling being able to touch someone after so very, very long. He tried not to lose himself in the sensation of it, knowing it was more about the ability to touch rather than the who.

"That's good right? I mean, if you couldn't touch anyone before, but now you can touch Cousin Kip?"

The Sun-on-Earth frowned. "I am very grateful to be able to touch Kip," he said finally, seriously, and Kip knew—honestly. "I am less happy with the magical tangle that has occurred because of it."

His Radiancy looked directly at Cliopher for a long moment, before humming decisively. "And I'm not happy that one of the best ways to fix the tangle would keep your cousin Kip from touching anyone but me for a few years."

Someone let out an audible gasp, but Cliopher had no chance to determine who.

"But that wouldn't be so bad," Dora said loudly, definitively. "I mean, we—" She waved her hand flamboyantly towards the rest of the family. "—Can all touch each other, while you haven’t been able to touch anyone at all. If you can touch Cousin Kip, it would be worth it.”

It took a moment for Kip to understand what Dora was saying, but when he did, he looked immediately to his Radiancy. He'd never seen the Lord of Rising Stars discombobulated, but he was now. Cliopher felt his shock and surprise down to the bone, but also amazement, joy, delight–and want. So much want.

His Radiancy in no way able to speak, Kip looked at his little cousin and asked, "Could you really handle not getting any hugs from me for a few years until Lord Artorin could hug you too?" he asked her, then looked over to his mother and Vinye since the question was to them too.

"Cousin Kip," Dora said impressively chiding given her age. "Lord Artorin can't touch anyone. That's just not fair. What happens when he's sad? Grandma Oura always hugs me. Or Leona. Or one of the other cousins. No one should be sad all by themselves.”

“If you can hug Lord Artorin and make him happy, you should." Dora glared at him before shifting her focus to the Sun-on-Earth. "You would need to promise to pass on all our hugs and kisses to Cousin Kip though. And he could do the same for you.”

Cliopher felt his Radiancy's wonder; it seared through him so strongly he couldn't help but grin at his lord. He glanced over at his sister, whose mouth had fallen wide open. The matter of rectifying the magical implications of the broken taboo was obviously not something his Radiancy had mentioned to Vinye the previous day.

Eidora Mdang, seemingly unconcerned, shifted her attention between Dora and his Radiancy, and then between his Radiancy and Kip. Her eyes were surprisingly warm, her expression more tender than Cliopher had seen in years. "There were times when you didn't visit us for years in a row, Kip," she said, not a hint of scolding in her words. "If it is truly needed and if you promise to visit us regardless, we could forego hugging you for a while if it means the Glorious One can do so." While she didn't quite meet his Radiancy's eyes, she did offer him a tentative smile.

His Radiancy's awe only grew. As if the idea that Cliopher's family would do this for him was impossible to understand—to believe. Cliopher reached over and squeezed his lord's hand gently.

His lord turned his head away, pulled his hand out of Cliopher's grip for long enough to quite unabashedly swipe at his eyes, and then grabbed it again. A moment later, he turned back to Cliopher’s family, his eyes bright from more than magic. "Thank you, Saya Eidora, Sayina Dora," he said, voice weak with emotion. "I don't think I've ever been offered such a priceless gift."

"Cousin Kip, you should probably hug him right now." Dora said, helpfully.

"Dora!" his Aunt Oura scolded, quite abashed.

Cliopher quickly surveyed the room. His cousin Quintus was desperately trying not to laugh. The others looked infinitely amused. Even Pikabe and Ato had lost their staid and emotionless expressions. Pikabe, noticing Cliopher’s attention, winked.

With no one in the bedchamber apparently against the proposition, Cliopher shut his eyes. All he could feel was desire. His or his Radiancy's, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was both? The idea was almost frightening.

"My lord?" Cliopher finally asked softly, tentatively, even a bit wonderingly. He'd held his lord after his heart attack, and in the dark of night—but this. To do so in front of people, to show such vulnerability, it was–

"Who are the Last Emperor of Astandalas and the Lord Chancellor of Zunidh to argue with a child," his Radiancy asked, tugging on the hand still connecting them. The Sun-on-Earth shifted so he was sitting at the edge of the bed, beautiful bare feet dangling almost casually over the side, his toenails gleaming gold. 

Cliopher, full of nervous anticipation didn't move for a long moment, just stared into the brilliant eyes of the lord that he so loved.

His lord tugged him the last step closer. With the height of the bed, his Radiancy remained taller—even sitting while Cliopher was standing. Slowly, prepared to draw back at any indication, Cliopher opened his arms and wrapped them gently around the Lord of Rising Stars. His lord froze for a moment, overwhelmed, before shivering slightly and relaxing fully into the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Cliopher’s chest and dropping his head to rest on Cliopher's shoulder.

Cliopher felt a hot tingle as his lord's bare head brushed the side of his neck but held still. He'd take any mark for the joy of hugging his lord so close. He tightened his hold, everything about the embrace feeling right. Emotions whirled everywhere, contentment, exhilaration, love. He wanted to hold the moment and his lord forever.

"See, isn't that better?" Dora's voice broke into the sense perfect peace. Someone laughed, loudly. Had his Radiancy's bedchamber ever heard such a joyous noise?

His Radiancy shifted. Cliopher released his arms and stepped back. He met his lord's eyes again, the warm resonance of magic shimmering between them. He couldn't feel embarrassed, not when his lord felt so satisfied.

The Lord of Rising Stars turned to face the muddle of Mdangs, his expression slipping back to calm serenity, even if Cliopher knew the truth was otherwise. His lord's emotions were—if Cliopher could see them, he was sure they'd be glowing.

"Yes, Sayina Dora," the Sun-on-Earth said, condescending to wink at her. "That was much better. Thank you for suggesting it."

Vinye chuckled. "Oh Kip, now your neck is streaked with gold.”

Cliopher ran a hand over his neck, feeling too wonderful to be embarrassed. He shrugged helplessly. Just then, the third quarter bell rang. "Goodness, where did the time go?"

"That means Kip has work to do," his Radiancy informed Cliopher's family, shifting back onto the bed fully and repositioning the comforter. "Perhaps you would all keep me company while he goes and runs the world for me?"

"We would be most honoured, Glorious One," Cliopher's mother answered, sounding like she truly meant it.

"Go on then, Kip." His Radiancy gave him a knowing look, before waving him towards the door. "I won't harm your family. Not after they've been so delightfully kind to me."

Cliopher gave his obeisances almost absently, caught up in his lord’s happiness. As he turned to leave, he smiled fondly at his family, pointedly ignoring their open amusement.  

Chapter Text

Given his family’s surprisingly reasonable reaction to what it might take to fix the magical disruption caused by the broken taboo, Cliopher expected that plans to do so would move forward quickly.

They did not. If anything, the entire situation was set quietly to the side as Cliopher learned how different it was to be his Radiancy’s Lord Chancellor and the ex-officio viceroy in command during his Radiancy’s recovery.

The first day—the third after his lord’s heart attack and the day after his own near-execution—Cliopher had twenty-eight meetings, starting with the Princess of Mgunai about a contentious sea train extension and finishing late in the evening with the Prince of Amboloyo. Prince Rufus, despite looking quite exhausted as he’d debarked his sky ship, had been so poised to fight over the perceived slight of being asked to wait until the next day that Cliopher agreed to meet with him entirely out of spite.

The next day, he met with three more Princes, the Treasurer, and a dozen petitioners who’d hoped to set their cases before his Radiancy but found themselves speaking to the Lord Chancellor instead. To Cliopher’s surprise, all of the petitioners seemed delighted to have his attention even if he wasn’t the Sun-on-Earth. Fortunately, he was able to resolve their issues and requests with no concern for overstepping his position, although he did take time to write a summary of each petitioner’s request and his response for his Radiancy to review once he was well.

After two days of near back-to-back meetings, Cliopher thought he might get a brief respite, but then he got caught up in preparing for and attending the quarterly meeting of the Helma Council. That meeting had always been in his schedule despite his family’s visit because he held his Radiancy’s proxy and couldn’t delegate it.

On the heels of the productive Helma Council meeting, came an excruciatingly painful Council of Princes session. Cliopher had hoped that it might go more quickly than usual given his Radiancy’s absence, but instead he’d had to spend most of the day navigating the petulant antics of the Prince of Amboloyo–who appeared less interested in good government than in finding a way to pull one over on Cliopher in his Radiancy’s absence.

Cliopher managed to navigate Prince Rufus’s pitfalls, in part because he’d enlisted Lord Eldo—who’d arrived back in Solaara on the sky ship with his father—to act as secretary for the Council meeting. With his son present, Prince Rufus has shown a bare modicum of decorum, holding back on some of the more inappropriate commentary he might have otherwise subjected Cliopher to.

In truth, most of a week went by before Cliopher was brought abruptly out of the fugue he’d entered upon taking up his Radiancy’s schedule in full. The day after the contentious Council of Princes meeting, he woke not to the quiet murmuring of Shoanie arriving with a cup of chocolate, nor to a sharp emotion or worry from his Radiancy, but simply to the sound of bells. More bells than he usually heard upon waking.

As he had grown accustomed to very quickly, Cliopher started the day by taking a moment to feel for his Radiancy. His lord’s emotions were relatively calm except for a soft undercurrent of satisfaction. Cliopher wasn’t certain why, but that, combined with a bright sense of wakefulness, suggested the Sun-on-Earth was much improved from the previous days.

That knowledge gave Cliopher the energy to roll out of bed. He’d only managed to make a couple of brief visits to his lord each day, relying primarily on his Radiancy's emotions and the reports of his mother and sister—who’d been invited to play for or visit the Sun-on-Earth on several occasions—to ensure his lord was recovering and didn’t need him urgently.

What little time he did spend with his lord was either in the early morning or the later evening. His Radiancy hadn’t tried to bring up anything of consequence during those visits; in fact, they’d spent more than one doing little more than sipping cups of tea together. Cliopher took every enjoyment that he could from the gift of his Radiancy’s ease, building it into a bulwark against the weight of expectation and demand waiting for when he left the Imperial Apartments.

Cliopher wondered how his lord had managed to do so much, for so long. In less than a week, he knew exactly why his lord had had a heart attack, could only be amazed it hadn’t happened sooner.

He made a note to evaluate the hours his lord worked. If the new government they wanted to put into place so his lord could retire was to succeed, they couldn’t overburden the next Lord or Lady Magus as badly as they had this one.

***

After bathing and dressing, Cliopher made his way out to the dining room, where he found his family eating a leisurely breakfast together.

“Oh, Cliopher, you’re finally awake,” his sister said, beckoning him to an empty chair. As Cliopher slid into it, Vinye filled a plate with food and set it in front of him. “Eat! I expect you didn’t have much yesterday if you were in a meeting all day.”

“What time is it?” he asked, eyes caught by the bright sunshine pouring in through the windows. It had to be late morning.

“Almost fifth bell, sir,” Shoanie said, setting a cup of coffee down within his reach. “Word came from the tower saying to let you sleep. There’s a message for you.” She indicated a folded piece of parchment next to his plate.

“Thank you, Shoanie.” Cliopher gave her an appreciative nod before reaching for the note.

My Dear Kip,

The Council of Princes is never a joy. I expect it was less so for you in my absence, so I’ve instructed your household to let you rest this morning and sent word to the Private Offices to do the same. Come to me once you have eaten. There’s much to discuss.

A.

Cliopher smiled at the highly casual nature of the missive—no seal or Sun-in-Glory in sight. He glanced up to find most of his family watching him, his cousin Quintus looking particularly amused.

“My lord wants to see me after breakfast,” he said, ignoring their odd looks in favour of reaching for an egg tart.

“You don’t need to go right away?”

He felt a stab of embarrassment at his mother’s question, knowing how frequently he’d done just that during their visit—choosing work over his family time and time again. “I’m sorry. I really had planned to take most of your visit off, but then…”

Vinye squeezed his arm. “You don't need to make excuses, Kip. Your lord has made it very clear what you do here. I only wish you’d said something years ago.”

“Yes, Kip. You never told us in any of your frequent letters that you were the head of his Radiancy’s government,” his Aunt Oura admonished. “His second in command.”

Cliopher shook his head, somewhat confused. “But you knew I was the Lord Chancellor. You were there when his Radiancy announced it.”

“But none of us knew what that meant, Kip,” Vinye said, exasperation clear in her tone. “At least not until your lord explained it to me the other day. After, I made Gaudy come and explain your job to everyone else.”

Cliopher wasn’t sure what to say to that. On the one hand, how could his family not have known? But on the other. Oh, on the other—that they’d asked, even if they hadn’t asked him. He felt an ancient tension deep in his chest loosen.

Rather than question why they had never asked before or mention all the times they’d taken anything he’d tried to say about his work in the palace and turned it around to talk of home, he offered a small, grateful smile. He could at least appreciate this moment. “Well, I’m glad you know now—and appreciate how difficult it’s been this week while his Radiancy has been recovering.”

“We do.” Vinye squeezed his arm again. “We do. And we know that’s not even considering all the rest of what’s happening between you and your lord and that broken taboo.”

He let out an audible sigh at the reminder. “I expect my lord might have more information for me today on that front. I believe he was going to be appointing new high priests yesterday.”

“He did,” Quintus said from the end of the table.  At Cliopher’s obvious surprise, his cousin added, “Gaudy told us the news last night. Apparently, your lord had him draft the announcement.”

Cliopher wasn’t sure whether to be anxious or relieved that the situation might be nearing a conclusion. In truth, he was both: relieved that the magical wound in the world would be healed and anxious as its healing would mean the beginning of his own challenges—and his Radiancy’s. He couldn’t help but be fearful of the day his lord would feel his emotions, understand how much Cliopher…

There was a word in Islander for the way he felt for his Radiancy.  He’d never found an equivalent in Shaian, had never contemplated speaking the Islander word out loud or telling his lord the truth. But recognizing that his lord would soon feel what he felt, would soon understand just how deep Cliopher's feelings went, he tried to imagine providing an explanation. Because he knew without a doubt that his lord would ask. How could he not?

And Cliopher couldn’t answer. Not easily. Not fully. Not well. His sister Vinye had come closest to understanding what he’d never been able to voice, saying that his Radiancy was Cliopher’s Aurelius Magnus.

All Cliopher knew was that he’d do anything for his lord as Elonoa’a had once done for his emperor. If the Moon came down—or the Sun, although he expected the Moon was more likely given what had happened the night of the eclipse—and stole his lord away, Cliopher would find a way to sail out of the world to find him. Even if he had to enlist the members of the Red Company to do so, find Fitzroy Angursell and convince him to help conduct an impossible rescue.

“I'm glad to hear it," he said, responding to his cousin Quintus's comment. "I expect his Radiancy will let me know the plan when I visit him then."

"Do you suppose whatever rituals need to take place will happen before we leave?" his mother asked.

His family was due to stay for another ten days. Cliopher frowned in thought. "Given it's already been over a week since the taboo was broken, I expect the new high priests will want to do whatever is needed as soon as possible. As long as his Radiancy's recovered enough, of course. I believe he'll need to do much of the magical work as it'll involve both schooled and wild magic."

"And after it's done, you won't be able to touch us?" Leona’s tone was more curious than upset.

"That's my understanding. I'll have to follow the same taboos that govern his Radiancy."

"What else is there?" Quintus asked. “There’s more than just being unable to touch, isn’t there?”

"There's one about food," Zemius answered before Cliopher could. "Everything has to be cooked, right?"

Cliopher nodded, remembering how Conju and his Radiancy had explained the restrictions to his cousin Galen back in the Vangavaye-ve. "Nothing fresh unless it's been ritually purified–which is almost impossible given how long it takes to purify foods. Maybe nuts would make it through the process, but definitely no fresh fruit or juice–"

"That'll be annoying," Vinye said. "Particularly when you come home."

He shrugged helplessly. "At least it will only be for a few years. My lord has had to live with such restrictions for most of his life. I'm simply grateful I don't have to worry about meeting people's eyes."

"Didn't you say you’d met your lord's eyes during your first meeting?"

"I did. It's a good thing that taboo was lost in the fall or I'd have been blinded. Mind you, at the time I thought I'd be executed for doing it." Cliopher smiled somewhat ruefully.

“You obviously weren’t or we wouldn’t all be here,” Leona said. “So, what happened? Did you get in trouble, Uncle Kip?”

He chuckled, remembering the desperate fear he’d felt that night, but also the immense happiness he’d felt at having served his Radiancy at least once. How far he’d come since then. "After I spent a sleepless night worrying and waiting to be escorted to my execution, I was told that my lord wanted me to remain his secretary."

Vinye laughed heartily. "Your lord told Mama and I that he liked you from the first time he met you. Now I know why. You looked at him like a person."

Cliopher winced. "That was treason," he said reflexively. "Is treason.”

His sister rolled her eyes. "You seem to say that about a lot of things concerning your lord, Kip. I am almost certain your definition of treason isn’t the common one. In fact, I think your lord might enjoy your particular definitions of treason." She gave him a pointed look.

Cliopher glanced towards the windows, unwilling to consider Vinye’s words too deeply. He reached for his plate, only to realize it was empty.

***

Cliopher had gotten used to the welcoming greetings of the guards standing duty on the Imperial Apartments, to the way they pulled open doors before he said a word and treated him as if he had almost as much right to be there as his Radiancy himself. He'd even gotten used to the way the guardians of the ivory door—whether Conju, or Lady Ylette, or one of their underlings—let him through without question as if his lord would always be glad to see him.

He had a harder time getting used to the way his lord smiled so freely each time he entered the imperial bedchamber, or tried to cut off his obeisances with a wave before Cliopher could kneel, or reached for his hand the moment Cliopher drew close enough to touch.

And Cliopher found it near impossible to become used to how his Radiancy’s emotions bubbled through him so pleasantly during each visit—delight, happiness, pleasure.

That day was no different. Cliopher entered his lord's bedchamber accompanied by nothing more than a smile and a soft, "Cliopher is here, my lord," from Ludvic–standing guard duty with Ato.

His Radiancy, propped up in bed, a book resting in his lap, brightened both inwardly and outwardly as Cliopher approached. "My dear Kip. The Princes left you alive?"

Cliopher laughed. "Yes, my lord. Although it was a close call."

"Tell me about it?"

Cliopher spent the next little while providing an overview of Prince Rufus's antics, his lord chuckling in all the right places. "You'll need to give Eldo a reward. The fact he was able to ignore his father's hints is quite impressive," his Radiancy suggested at the end of Cliopher's tale.

"Oh yes, I've already given him today off. I'll probably make him permanent secretary to the Council as well. The opportunity is simple too good to pass up."

"I'm sure Lord Eldo won't mind at all. It'll be an informative experience for him.” His Radiancy tilted his head, contemplatively. “And your family?"

"They're doing better than I expected, given how busy I've been.” Cliopher frowned. “I'm hopeful now that the Council of Princes' meeting is over, I'll be able to spend more time with them."

 "You haven't had time to see them at all, have you?" Cliopher could feel his Radiancy’s guilty concern.

 "I've seen them at most meals, my lord."

"That's not enough, Kip,” his Radiancy said, shaking his head. “Not given what they'll been dealing with the next few years. No, I've improved a lot this week.  Send me your secretaries when you go back. They can help me manage the most urgent concerns while you take the next week off. Spend time with your family. Enjoy them fully while you can."

"But what about the rituals, my lord? Will they wait that long?”

His lord reached out and took his hand, squeezed it gently "I spoke to the new high priests yesterday. They're putting everything in motion for ten days from now. The three days beforehand, we will need to go through extensive rites of purification. We'll both be in near seclusion for those days to avoid any possible interference.”

Cliopher nodded. Most rituals of schooled magic seemed to involve purification. He wasn't surprised that he wouldn't be able to get out of it entirely. "And then?"

His Radiancy grimaced, swallowed hard, tightened his grip on Cliopher’s hand. "The new high priests have said that it's important to have the final ceremony in front of the Court. They say that it needs to be very clear what is happening and how the rituals will be tying us together."

 Cliopher shuddered at the thought. "They want a full court ceremony?"

"I hadn't thought through the full ramifications of such a ritual," the Sun-on-Earth admitted. "Magic will consider us one being after it. We'll know each other at a level no one else will be able to fathom."

His Radiancy paused for the longest time. "But the high priests believe that the connection will also mean that if someone hurts one of us, they'll hurt both of us. That it would be quite likely if one of us died, so would the other.”

”Oh.”

The idea was something out of a legend, out of a Fitzroy Angursell song. He thought it might even be like what Elonoa'a had had with Aurelius Magnus. Maybe even more. Cliopher’s heart whispered that treasonous word, that word that meant so much in Islander and nothing at all in Shaian.

Cliopher longed for such a connection with…but. But. But.

"But how would that impact your quest, my lord? Surely you wouldn't want to take such a risk. Not now, not when you're so close to freedom." Cliopher asked the question, knowing full well his lord couldn't feel the same–"

His lord quirked a lip up. "I've been quite attached to you for a thousand years, my dear Kip. Surely, you've realized that? Can't you feel it?"

Cliopher's gasped, raising his eyes to meet the Sun-on-Earth's sharp, knowing gaze. Magic sparkled between them, bright, shimmering, resonating. A surging tide of his lord's emotions roared through him…desire, anticipation, l…

"I know you don't feel the same, my dear Kip," his Radiancy said softly, gently. "It's all right. This connection won't change that. It won't force you into anything you don't want–nor would I. But to put it in words you might understand, might care for: If you were my brother or my cousin, I could not love you more."

Cliopher's heart stuttered. Those words. His words, said once in a moment of desperation for his lord to understand, said as a challenge like in the Lays—to his lord, to the world, to the very gods themselves.

Tears burned in Cliopher's eyes. He wanted to pull his lord, his beloved, his… He wanted to pull him forward, to press their foreheads together–knew he couldn't go so far, not yet. He flipped their grip so he was the one holding his Radiancy's hand, then reached for his lord’s other. Pulled them both close to his chest, tucked them close to his heart.

Cliopher shut his eyes, let himself be swamped by his lord's fierce emotions, his answer to the challenge and more. He couldn't find the words, couldn't say that word, couldn't believe this was in any way real.

His lord, unable to feel the emotions churning within Cliopher, let out a soft huff. "But I should warn you, my dear Kip. The high priests pointed out that despite anything we could possibly say to the contrary, most of the court will see such a ceremony as a…"

Cliopher opened his eyes, met his lord's brilliant gaze. "As a?"

The Sun-on-Earth smiled radiantly. "As a wedding."

It took Cliopher a long time to wrap his thoughts around that revelation. Finally, finally, he managed, quite incredulously: "Your new high priests want to hold a high court ceremony because they think people will see it as us getting married?”

The Sun-on-Earth smirked. Smirked. If anyone else did such a thing, it would surely be treason. "They debated the court's potential response for a surprisingly long while. Decided that no one would believe I was doing this because of the broken taboo–that with anyone but you, I'd have let them be executed."

The Lord of Rising Stars shuddered, sending a bolt of loathing running up Cliopher's back. "I would never, of course–" He paused for a long moment, clearly realizing what he'd shared with Cliopher. There was a wash of apology, quickly replaced by tenderness, affection, and something more.

His lord waited patiently for Cliopher to recover, then tugged him closer so they were eye-to-eye, the magic dancing between them, resonating through them. He smiled then, very softly. "But they are right about one thing, my dear Kip.”

“What’s that?” Cliopher whispered, suddenly terrified, emotion growing in his chest, growing, and growing, and growing.

“They know how much I love you.”

***

Cliopher wasn't certain how long the silence lasted, frozen by his Radiancy's words—so honest, so certain, so sure. While his own emotions churned wildly, all he felt from his lord was a fierce sense of certainty, of devotion, of love. Love. His Radiancy had willingly named that searing emotion, so he could too. He could too. Oh, how he wanted…

"You want to get married?" He asked, focusing on the least complex question running though his mind. "To me?"

His lord smiled in charming bemusement. "Only for near a thousand years, my dear Kip. But I don't think you're ready for that conversation.” He let out a huff of frustration. “I’m not ready for that conversation. It’s not the right time, and it’s definitely not the right place. Perhaps…perhaps one day, somewhere far from the Palace of Stars.”

Cliopher could feel the truth rippling through him: his lord’s concerns, his hopes, his wobbly fears. His need for time and space and distance—not from Cliopher, but from being the Lord Emperor.

Cliopher understood. His lord—who understood Cliopher better than anyone, who was his dearest friend, his beloved, his everything—saw what Cliopher couldn’t say, couldn’t express, couldn’t even whisper, and nodded. Then said, oh so mildly: “But according to the high priests, we can’t hide the bond we’re about to forge. Not when your life will change so dramatically, my dear Kip. Not when you’ll have the very magic of Zunidh recognizing us as one. The high priests believe that no matter what we call it, however we choose to explain it, almost no one at Court will see it as anything less than a marriage—and that anyone with even a spark of magic will see it as much, much more.”

His Radiancy sighed audibly. “I wish we could keep this bond private, as a gift to be shared and celebrated only between us, but. But.”

Cliopher knew the rest. They both did. But his lord was the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Last Emperor of Astandalas. “I’m making you explain how this high court ceremony is not a wedding to my family."

Chapter Text

The conversation slipped to less weightier topics after that, including what Cliopher would do with his family now that his Radiancy was forcibly clearing his schedule. The easy conversation lasted until the guards changed—with Elish and Oginu replacing Commander Omo and Ato as his Radiancy’s innermost guards.

Before Ludvic could salute himself out of the bedchamber, his Radiancy beckoned him closer. “Ludvic, please stay. We have matters to discuss.”

“Of course, my lord.” As Ludvic approached his Radiancy’s bed, he gave Cliopher an appraising look. Cliopher couldn’t help but wonder what his friend was thinking. He would have heard their entire conversation about the need for a high court ceremony, even if he was too professional to bring up matters discussed while he was on duty.

Unless, of course, his Radiancy brought them up first.  “You will have heard what I told Cliopher about the high priests and their beliefs with respect to the bond Cliopher and I intend to forge,” his lord said candidly. “I expect you have concerns.”

“Several, my lord,” Ludvic agreed. “And ten days is not much time to evaluate the related risks and formulate a plan of action. Particularly given there are no accurate depictions of the ramifications of such a bond.”

The Commander of the Imperial Guard shook his head at Cliopher’s evident surprise. “His Radiancy’s safety is my highest priority, Cliopher. As soon as I learned about the potential for a bond, I set junior guards to find out what they could of such things. As his Radiancy said initially, there isn’t much. We know they existed, but not much more than that.”

“What are your topmost concerns, Commander Omo?” the Sun-on-Earth asked.

“Continuity of government is the most critical, my lord," Ludvic said immediately. “There’s no certainty that either of you will be fit for duty in the days after the ceremony. It may take time, substantial time, for you to acclimatize to the bond. Given who you are—who you both are—I am concerned about how long that time might be and whether someone might try and use it to cause disruption.” 

“You believe it will be that much more than I’m feeling now?” Cliopher could already feel so much from his lord that the idea of the bond strengthening further was difficult to envision.

Ludvic shook his head. "I have no idea, Cliopher. No one does, so there's no way to be certain. But we need to be prepared for the possibility.”

Cliopher couldn’t argue with that. But what would the equivalent to setting up the emergency stockpiles be for if both the Last Emperor and the Lord Chancellor were incapacitated? He thought back to the plans made in advance of his Radiancy’s trip to the Vangavaye-ve. “If the high priests are right about the…importance the Court will place on this ceremony, perhaps you could announce a—”

Cliopher paused, a suggestion stuck behind his lips. It was a good suggestion he knew, but it would only work to enhance the profile of the ceremony—something he most adamantly did not want. He released an audible sigh. It was still a good option, a very good option, probably the best option given the situation. “You could announce a…a holiday.”

There was silence as both his Radiancy and Ludvic considered his words, realized exactly what he was suggesting.

A moment later, his Radiancy grinned. "Oh, my dear Kip. You should see your face.” His lord's amusement was plain in his voice and in the susurrus of emotions running through Cliopher. “How difficult was that for you to suggest? Honestly now.”

“I will always provide my best suggestions for a given situation, my lord,” he said, schooling his face to perfect seriousness, a rock standing fast under the pressure of a great wave. When his lord lifted a single eyebrow in question, Cliopher broke, letting out a somewhat pained laugh. “I will admit that this is quite likely my least favourite of all the recommendations I have ever provided you with.”

His Radiancy’s gentle amusement softened to appreciative understanding. “Alas, I must admit that like most of your proposals, my Lord Mdang, I believe this is a perfectly suitable recommendation given the situation and possible risk. What do you think, Commander Omo? A week’s holiday to celebrate the magical bonding of the Last Emperor of Astandalas and the Lord Chancellor of Zunidh?”

Ludvic offered Cliopher a commiserative look at their lord's obvious good humour, before nodding firmly to his Radiancy. “That would do nicely, I believe, my lord. A celebratory holiday, during which any urgent matters can be handled by Cliopher’s second.”

“Excellent. We will have an announcement made up. Don’t even consider suggesting that you write it, my dear Kip. You are to take this week to spend with your family, remember?”

Cliopher grimaced. “It doesn’t seem sensible to take the next ten days off, my lord. Not if there’s going to be a week of holiday after.”

“Your family is more important, right now, Kip. Taking the time isn’t a request.” The Sun-on-Earth waited until Cliopher nodded in acquiescence. “And besides, a number of your responsibilities will need to be delegated after the ceremony. This will give you a chance to assess who within your department is capable and ready for promotion.” 

Cliopher’s mouth fell open. “Delegated, my lord? May I ask why?"

His Radiancy met Cliopher's eyes, sending another symphony of magic resonating between them, shimmering with notes of recognition and rightness. But underneath the brighter connection, a thread of anxiety trembled. His lord pressed his lips into a flat line, reached out with a hand, stopped, then let it drop between them. He opened his mouth, closed it. Finally, he turned his eyes to Commander Omo.

Cliopher's friend looked at their lord, then at Cliopher, then said quietly, softly, so gently. "Cliopher, you can't be the Hands of the Emperor when you are under the same restrictions he is."

***

Cliopher hadn't thought about that. He'd thought about not being able to touch or to eat certain foods. He'd thought about what it would mean if he went home to visit his family. He'd made a note to ask Conju what it would mean to his household–how he could protect them.

He had not taken the need to adhere to the taboos to the next logical conclusion–the fact he wouldn't be able to do large parts of his job—what made him who he was, what made him valuable to his lord.

Being the Hands of the Emperor was only the smallest part of it, if the part he loved best. At Ludvic's words, Cliopher's thoughts jumped to other things it would be difficult, if not impossible, for him to do after the ceremony.

He would not easily be able to travel, not without assiduous planning. And if any threat to him could truly take out his lord, the Imperial Guard would not want him sent anywhere that was high risk. His days of visiting Nijan several times a year to calm the waters were probably over. If he did go, he'd likely need a squad of guards.

Even the simple, day-to-day interactions within the Private Offices of the Lords of State would be made more difficult following the ceremony. The Private Offices were constantly full of people bustling about, knocking elbows as they hurried to get this or that task done. Cliopher would need to be incredibly careful each time he visited. He hadn't had an office there since he'd been named Lord Chancellor, but he'd often gone there once or twice a day for meetings, or to chat with Kiri, or to find one document or another. He'd have to learn to delegate a lot more–not only to Kiri and others, but also to his secretaries and to the pages.

And he hadn't told any of them yet. Well, Gaudy knew some of it, but not everything. They'd all need to be told. The question was how would they receive it? The entire office had been highly supportive of his being appointed Lord Chancellor–but this…he wasn't even sure how to explain what this was, or what it meant, or what it would mean for the plans to restructure the government.

As each new realization led to another, and another, and another, Cliopher's heart picked up its pace, thumping loudly in his ears. Ten days: three of them in seclusion, taken up by purification ceremonies. How had he not thought about it? How had he not already formulated a plan? He always had a plan. And his Radiancy wanted him to take time to spend time with his family? Now–with everything that needed to be done? His chest tightened under the growing strain of anxiety.

"Breathe, Cliopher," came Ludvic's soft voice. "Breathe."

Cliopher tried. He tried. "Kip," came that voice. His voice. And with it, an intensifying concern, worry, fear. Hands came down on his shoulders, squeezed tightly, worriedly. "Look at me, my dear Kip. Look at me."

Cliopher raised his eyes, met those of his beloved lord, felt the resonant magic singing. That magic, that connection soothed him like nothing else could. He took a gasping breath. Immediately shuddered. Closed his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, my lord. I should have known. Of course, I should have. I don't…I haven't…I don't have a plan for this."

"Cliopher Mdang. Calm down." Cliopher's eyes shot open at his lord's most demanding instruction. When he saw Cliopher had calmed, his Radiancy gave him the tiniest of smiles. "You can't be perfect at everything, Lord Mdang. Even if you wish you could be."

"But…"

"Cliopher. Kip. It's much easier to make a plan when the plan doesn't involve you. Tell your people and let them develop the plan. They'll need to enact it after all."

"But…"

"You had too much work on your plate as it is. I was going to suggest you appoint a new Secretary in Chief before I had my heart attack. This just forces a timeline to it. I am sure you have someone who is ready. I know you."

"Well, of course, my lord," he admitted. "Saya Kalikiri is equipped to do it–as she does when I go on holiday–but she…prefers not to. I think her family is very, er, devout to the Imperial cult."

His Radiancy grimaced. "That might not do at all long-term, depending on how she takes what's happening to you. I doubt you'd appreciate someone who thinks you've gained some kind of godhood from being bound to me."

Cliopher shuddered. "I would hope everyone will know better than to think that, my lord. Kiri and I have worked together so long, I expect she would not change her opinion of me. That said, I believe her second, Aioru, would be a better choice long-term–and I expect Kiri will readily agree with me. He's young. Full of ideas. Given the opportunity, he would likely be an excellent choice to support your heir in time."

"See, that was easy enough, wasn't it?" his lord said, squeezing Cliopher's shoulders gently. "You can speak to them this afternoon."

"Yes, my lord. But if I can't do my job…"

"My dear Kip, I am sure you will more than have your hands full restructuring the entire government of Zunidh. And, given what people will think of our connection, I doubt they'll gainsay my sharing other responsibilities with you. You will need practice in advance of my quest after all."

Cliopher raised an eyebrow. "My lord?"

"You surely knew I would appoint you my Viceroy while I'm away?" His Radiancy’s words were incredulous.

"I hadn't thought about it, my lord.”

The Sun-on-Earth sighed quite dramatically. "You are completely ridiculous, my dear Kip." Cliopher's cheeks warmed with embarrassment at the utter fondness he felt.

His Radiancy offered a mischievous grin. "After we form this connection fully, I've told you we will be one and the same in the eyes of magic. That doesn't mean just the taboos and restrictions. It means everything. You'll have my authority, magically at least, immediately. While you have no direct magic, the connection will see that any oaths sworn to me also apply to you. I will need to grant you official authority, of course–not that I would expect anyone to argue the point once we are so bound. I doubt even the Prince of Amboloyo would be that imprud—"

"My lord!" Cliopher interrupted, distraught.

The Sun-on-Earth’s emotions offered a stark counterpoint to Cliopher's own: happiness, satisfaction, joy.

"You're…you’re delighted by this," Cliopher accused, unaccountably shocked, stunned, shaken.

His lord stopped, froze to a statue-like stillness. "I wouldn't…I wouldn’t confirm the situation without your agreement," he said softly—tone perfectly calm, perfectly serene.

Cliopher clung to that promise like a raft in a storm, unable to process the alternative. The idea of it, the possibility of it, was too, too big.

They stood there in silence. Stood. Cliopher realized his lord had gotten out of his bed to come to him, was standing even now with his hands firmly on Cliopher's shoulders, a rock holding him fast.

His lord let out a quiet, pained sigh. "It's all right, my dear Kip. I know it's too much. I know it." There was sadness there, even hurt, but Cliopher had trouble processing it. Could barely think at all.

"Put it aside for the moment,” his lord instructed when Cliopher didn’t say anything. “Put it aside and focus on the next step. Speak to Saya Kalikiri. Speak to the others. Then take the time to enjoy your family. There will be time to consider the rest later."

His Radiancy squeezed his shoulders one last time before letting go and stepping back. "Ludvic?" There was an almost plaintive note in his voice.

"I've got him, my lord," Commander Omo said quietly, weaving a supportive hand under one of Cliopher's arms and tugging gently. "Come on, Cliopher."

For once, Cliopher didn't even think of the required obeisances as Ludvic guided him from the room.

***

Ludvic didn’t lead Cliopher back to his apartments, he led him outside. Cliopher should have noticed all of the stairs, but he was so caught up in the maelstrom of thoughts churning from his visit to his Radiancy that he only noticed where they were going when Ludvic opened a door into bright sunlight.

“Oh,” Cliopher said, quickly shading his eyes with a hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside. Not since his lord’s heart attack he was certain. No, there’d been the few moments outside waiting for the sky ship bringing his family—although that had been at night and he’d been too tired to appreciate it. “I thought we were going to my apartments—or the Private Offices. I expect I should go to see Kiri first. Get that over with.”

“Right now, we’re going to get lunch,” Ludvic told him, grabbing Cliopher’s arm firmly before he could escape back into the palace. “There will be time for all that after. Right now, you need to be away and you need to eat. I’m going to help you do both. Now, come on.”

Too emotionally troubled to argue, Cliopher let Ludvic take the lead. His friend obviously had a plan as he didn’t stop to consider directions, simply navigated Cliopher along a gravel path through the gardens. They passed by banana trees, palms, even coffee bushes. All the while, Ludvic didn’t say a word, letting Cliopher stew in his own thoughts—or rather, avoid stewing. Cliopher worked to name what he could of the plants and trees along their path, watched for birds, and evaded the looks of anyone they happened by. They weren’t at all inconspicuous given Ludvic was still in his dress uniform after guarding his Radiancy—although where he'd left his spear, Cliopher had no idea—while Cliopher was in multiple layers of the finest silk. But if anyone tried to approach, Ludvic motioned them off.

They passed through an archway into a wilder garden, and then the path transformed into a rough staircase or, more accurately, into a series of rough staircases leading down, and down, and down. Cliopher was definitely not dressed for such a sojourn, but he was more than happy to follow along. The straightforward task of navigating the awkward steps was almost a relief after the revelations of the morning. 

At one landing, Cliopher stopped to catch his breath. Ludvic didn’t say a word, simply gave him the space to be in his own head, offering a stalwart presence at his back. As Cliopher stared out at the beauty of Solaara in the sunshine, he couldn’t help but think of the fourteen years his Radiancy had spent as the hundredth Emperor of Astandalas. For all that time, his lord had been alone, not even the sun allowed to keep the Sun-on-Earth company.

With no sun, no moon, no stars—no one to look him in the eye, touch him, or treat him as a person—his Radiancy, his…his Tor, had survived until the Fall had broken the Empire of Astandalas and split the five worlds it had bound apart. And even then, even then, when freedom beckoned after a full century of sleep, his…his beloved had accepted the mantle of Lord of Zunidh when it had been offered to him in desperation.

Cliopher knew he didn’t know the whole story, that there were parts of it his Radiancy had never spoken of—might never speak of. Next to all his lord had survived, how could Cliopher be so upset about the impact of much smaller requirements for a much shorter period of time? It wasn’t even the major taboos that had knocked him sideways; it had been the idea of delegating work, even when he’d be delegating it to people he knew would thrive from the challenge.

It was ridiculous, he knew that. Cliopher let out a sharp breath. He also knew that neither the taboos, nor the idea of delegation was what was truly unsettling him.

Perhaps it was the idea of a full court ceremony. One where he’d be on display: a key participant. One that he’d been assured the Court would see as a wedding—or as close to one as a ceremony that most assuredly wasn’t a wedding could be. No, that wasn’t it either.

Cliopher knew what it was. He also knew he was avoiding thinking of it. But he had to. In ten days, they’d be fully bound together. His lord would be able to feel his emotions; he’d know everything that Cliopher was so astutely hiding. Even Cliopher didn’t know everything he was hiding. He was far to good at hiding it.

He considered the brilliant blue sky, the puffy white clouds, the shimmers of sunlight playing off roof tiles, the dark fingers of shade cast by trees.

His Radiancy had said he loved Cliopher. No, his lord hadn’t quite said that. First, he’d said how attached he was to Kip. Then, he’d said that others knew how much he loved him. But those was the same thing, weren’t they? Cliopher thought they must be.

He had never known his lord to tell a lie. He doubted his Radiancy would start now, with this. But how could his Radiancy, the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Lord of Five Thousand Lands and Ten Thousand Titles, and the Hundredth and Last Emperor of Astandalas love Cliopher Mdang, Kip Mdang, or as many in the Vangavaye-ve called him: The One Who Left? The one who’d always dreamed of having someone who was the other half of his shell, his outrigger, his other shoe—and now, faced with the impossible possibility that the one he'd always loved might return that affection, was desperately, terribly, afraid.

Fanoa, he forced himself to think. An islander word. He’d never found an equivalent meaning in Shaian. To him, the word meant beloved–like the great love, the great friendship, that Elonoa'a had been said to share with the emperor Aurelius Magnus. It meant if his Radiancy was kidnapped by the Sun or the Moon, Cliopher would chase after him, would sail out of the world for him. And he would. He would.

His lord had said he’d wanted to marry Kip, had wanted to marry him for nearly a thousand years. Was that his own meaning of beloved? Of fanoa?

The idea was startling, terrifying, exhilarating. Cliopher had asked Ghilly to marry him once—out of a sense of expectation more than desire. She’d been right to say no. Toucan was far better for her than Kip ever would have been.

He’d said he’d marry Jullanar of the Sea once as well. Of course, when he’d made that promise all he’d thought was that she sounded magnificent—almost as magnificent as Fitzroy Angursell. But he couldn’t dream of marrying him, after all. Or, perhaps, he could have—but he certainly wouldn’t have. Not then. Jullanar of the Sea was a far more approachable legend.

Cliopher sighed. He'd never expected his lord to love him back. What was he supposed to do with that?

***

They made it down the multitude of stairs, Ludvic ever so patient. Cliopher would have liked to blame his slow speed on his clothing, which was not at all right for hiking, but the truth was that he hadn't spent enough time exercising lately, even before his Radiancy's heart attack.

When they came out into the Levels—one of the poorest areas of the city before the Stipend helped turn things around and revived people's hopes and aspirations—Ludvic guided him easy through narrow alleys, down unmarked paths, and through courtyards crowded with people. Cliopher had no idea where they were but Ludvic obviously did; his friend was just as obviously well-known there given he exchanged greetings with many that they passed, even as he kept Cliopher moving forward toward whatever destination he had in mind.

Finally, Ludvic ushered Kip into a yard, into a house, no—into a small bar. He gestured for Kip to take a seat at a well-worn table in a dark alcove, then went through a curtained doorway, coming back a few moments later with two green bottles in one hand and a basket of some sort of fried bread in the other.

"Where are we?" Cliopher asked, curious about a place Ludvic seemed so at home in.

"Wait," Ludvic said, then slid a beaded curtain across the doorway to their alcove. Sharp tingles flashed through Cliopher’s marked skin, different than the resonance he felt when his Radiancy looked him in the eye, but still noticeably magic. Ludvic noticed Cliopher’s consternation. "The curtains are woven with a magic not unlike his Radiancy's wall of silence.”

"And you thought we needed that?" Cliopher asked. "That I needed that?"

His friend shrugged. "I've been meaning to take you here for a while, and you looked like you needed to get away. I thought today was as good as any." Left unsaid, given how crowded their passage through the Levels had been, it wasn’t likely Cliopher would make it back here—at least not before his Radiancy left on his quest.

Cliopher listened as Ludvic explained how he owned the bar. As amazed as he was by that fact, Cliopher had a hard time asking too many questions about it. He’d want to eventually, he knew, but his mind was cluttered enough as it was.

Ludvic pushed one of the bottles at Cliopher before taking a long sip of his own. Cliopher took a more tentative sip—finding it cool and light, with a refreshing crispness after his unplanned hike. They sat peaceably for a while, Ludvic offering quiet, companionable silence. It was something Cliopher’s Buru Tovo would do: make space, look, listen.

"He said he loved me," Cliopher said into that silence, so quietly, so low he wasn't sure if Ludvic would hear.

"He did," Ludvic agreed. "Was that truly surprising to you, Cliopher? You've loved him as long."

"Yes, but—"

"Don't tell me you don't think you deserve him." Ludvic snorted.

Cliopher bit out a pained laugh. “It's not that." At his friend's admonishing look, he clarified: "It's not all like that."

He paused, took another sip of his beer, then stared at the bottle. "I don't know what to do with it.”

Ludvic took a bite of fried bread, studying Cliopher as he chewed. "I know you're not new to relationships, Cliopher. Rhodin and I had to arrest one of your partners, remember? And, there was that painter…"

"But those were different."

"Because they were women?" Ludvic’s eyebrows rose curiously.

"Of course not. I've never really cared about that one way or another." Cliopher took another swig from his bottle. "Because I knew they wouldn't last."

His friend hummed in acknowledgement. "They didn’t matter because you didn’t care about them. Not like you care about Him.”

Cliopher winced at the harsh assessment. "I did tell them it wasn't like that for me. I enjoyed their company. They asked and I wasn't, well, I wasn't offended. That was enough for them. Or it was for Suzen. The spy–I know now what she wanted."

Ludvic was quiet, so quiet. He was who he was for a reason, however; the Commander of the Guard could read people better than most. "You're afraid of loving him."

Cliopher let out a strained breath. "How can I be afraid of something I've done for a thousand years?"

His friend shrugged. "That's a question you need to ask yourself."

Cliopher studied his hands, wrapped anxiously around the bottle. He set the bottle down and took a piece of fried bread simply to delay while he tried to think. He barely tasted it. "If he loves me back, I can hurt him. I can get it wrong," he said finally. He shivered despite the heat of the room. "I never seem to want what other people do. Not enough. Not the same way. I know I'm not enough for him. I can't be."

Ludvic reached across the table to pat Cliopher’s arm. "You're only not enough Cliopher if you're not willing to try. You did hear him say he knew you weren't ready for the conversation, didn’t you? His Radiancy knows you don't think about relationships the same way. He might not know all the details, but he loves you anyway."

His friend finished off his beer, then gave Cliopher a look that spoke volumes. "All you really need to do is let him love you. Let yourself love him. You're getting caught up in the details. Love isn't like that. It isn't as easy as writing an eight-hundred-page report. It's complicated. It's messy. It's sometimes incomprehensible. You'll both get things right. You'll both get things wrong. But if you're committed, you’ll find a way."

Ludvic’s lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. "And you're the most committed person I know, Cliopher. You’re the one willing to accept the taboos for him."

"It’s the only way," Cliopher said reflexively.

"Is it? Or is it the only way you don’t have to…let go?" Ludvic didn't wait for an answer. "You're willing to forge a bond that will let him feel you as well as you feel him."

"Yes, and I'm afraid of that," Cliopher admitted. "Desperately terrified."

"But you're still doing it. You’re still giving him a key to your soul. You're still agreeing to be bound—forever—to him. Would you do that for anyone else?" When Cliopher shook his head, Ludvic nodded. "Then why him?"

"Because. Because I trust him." The truth came easily to Cliopher’s lips.

Ludvic’s smile grew a bit wider. "Then trust him fully, Cliopher. You can be afraid. You can be unsure. You can not know what it all means, or what it all means for you. But you can’t figure it out on your own because it's not just about you. It's about both of you, together."

When Cliopher didn't say anything right away, Ludvic slid out of the booth, saying, "I'll get our lunch. Be right back."

Left alone for the moment, Cliopher focused on what Ludvic had said. It wasn't just about him.

If he was afraid, wouldn’t his Radiancy be too? His lord, his Tor, had been alone, so alone, for nearly a thousand years. He hadn't been able to touch for all that time—that insane, impossible to comprehend amount of time—and now, suddenly, he could touch Cliopher. That had to be strange. Disconcerting. Terrifying.

Even though they could, they hadn't touched–not a lot. Not casually beyond their growing propensity to hold hands. The times where the touches exchanged had been greater had mostly been prompted by worry, by fear, or by desperate concern. In those moments—just after his Radiancy’s heart attack, after Cliopher’s near-execution—it had been different: as if the boundaries between them had fallen completely. The one time they'd both simply chosen to do more, they'd done so because Dora had bullied them into it. He smiled at the memory. Remembered how good it felt. Remembered how good it had felt to him.

Was his lord afraid of touch? No, Cliopher realized. Tor was afraid of that touch being taken away.

Cliopher shut his eyes, feeling for his lord. His Radiancy was calm, almost too calm. Cliopher had hurt him earlier. He wasn't quite sure how, but he knew it. He didn't think it was the wedding discussion. His lord had managed that well enough, saying neither of them was ready for the conversation.

Then what? Surely, it couldn't have been the fact that Cliopher didn't want more power, didn't want such untethered control and authority? His lord knew that already. Cliopher had only accepted the role of Lord Chancellor because it meant he could reshape the government so it didn't give anyone the unlimited power that the Emperors of Astandalas had once had—that his Radiancy still had.

That his Radiancy now wanted to share with Cliopher. Because he could. Because it was the only way he could show how much he trusted Cliopher, how much he loved him. Because if Cliopher shared in his power, his Radiancy wouldn't have power over him.

Fanoa. Two sides of the same shell. Two equal but not identical halves.

Cliopher swallowed the rest of his beer, hands shaking.

When Ludvic came back with a tray of food, followed by a woman holding two more beers, Cliopher smiled. "Thank you, Ludvic," he said, knowing his friend would understand that the thanks applied to more than just the food.

***

The walk back up to the palace was much more strenuous than the walk down, although mentally, it was a thousand times easier.

They went slowly, in part because Cliopher didn't want to be a sweaty mess when they got back–and in part because he really didn't have a choice. "I definitely need to make more time for exercise," he admitted during one break.

"Yes," Ludvic agreed, looking like he could run up and down the stairs all day. "His Radiancy has already had a heart attack, Cliopher. You don't need to have one too."

Cliopher couldn't argue with the slight admonishment. He would have to schedule time to practice the Mdang dances more often. He wrapped a hand around his efela-ko. What would the people back home think of him now? What would his Buru Tovo? If he ever asked Cliopher the questions, would he believe his answers?

No. He couldn't ask that question right now. It was too much on top of everything else. Maybe one day he'd be able to show his family and friends that he hadn't forgotten where he came from. Show them how much the Lays were fundamental to his life, to the work he was doing–the foundation for the future, the new fire he'd promised the Efelauni that he'd bring home. One day.

But if he couldn't ask that question right now, at least he could commit to dancing more.

***

When they returned to the palace, Cliopher stopped briefly at his own apartments. He'd planned to go straight to the Private Offices, but Ludvic had insisted he pick up his guards—who'd been sent back there by Ludvic to wait for their return. The commander insisted on a proper handoff of guard responsibility, despite having taken advantage of his position to practically kidnap Cliopher for lunch. Not that Cliopher could complain. He'd desperately needed the fresh air, the friendly ear, and the time to think.

His family was out at the menagerie according to Franzel, so it was easy to slip in, change–since he had the opportunity–collect his guards, and head back out again. By the time he made it down to the Private Offices, it was late-afternoon, but there was still plenty of time to do what he had to do.

He found Kiri in her office, the office that had been his for many years, reading through a stack of files. "Kiri, can we speak?"

"Lord Mdang! Of course. Please come in. I was just reviewing the recent Auditor’s Report of the Ministry of Agriculture."

Cliopher wanted to ask how the audit had gone; he would have asked in any other circumstance. But he held the question back, gestured for his two guards to wait outside, then shut the door. Taking the seat across from her, he decided to get straight to the point. "I am going to be resigning as Secretary in Chief of the Private Offices. I need a replacement."

Kiri's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. "Is everything all right, Lord Mdang? I thought…I thought the Glorious One had found a solution?"

"It's not that," Cliopher said. "It's not. And his Radiancy has. We have. It's rather…that the solution comes with its own complications."

"What kind of complications?" Kiri asked, studying him closely.

Cliopher drew in an audible breath. "Only a few know this–the new high priests and key members of the guard and his Radiancy's household–but as a result of what happened when his Radiancy had his heart attack, I am able to feel what he is feeling."

"You can what?"

Cliopher forced himself to relax, to lean back slightly. He gave Kiri an easy nod, as if the truth was nothing but normal despite it being so very far from it. "I can feel what he's feeling. Right now, he's quite calm, but if he's upset, or tired, I can sense it. His Radiancy and the new high priests believe it's wild magic at work. Some twist of magic interacting through the marks I received from His touch."

Kiri frowned, likely picking apart his words. Cliopher waited patiently until she said, "That's—that’s not all, is it?" She gave him a look she'd perfected over their many years of working together. "If it was, you'd either have told me sooner or not at all."

He couldn't help but smile, just a little, at how well she knew him. "No, it isn't, but you needed to know what happened first to understand why we're doing what we're doing next."

When Kiri gestured wordlessly for him to continue, Cliopher paused, trying to figure out the least impressive way to explain the solution. A deluge of facts, he decided. "To ameliorate the magical problems created by the broken taboo, his Radiancy and I will be completing the wild magic bond that the broken taboo initiated. At the same time, there will be a schooled magic ritual to adjust the tapestry of schooled magic to align with the bond. The combination of the two will heal the magical disruption created by the broken taboo, while connecting us in the eyes of both wild and schooled magic."

He watched Kiri carefully as she digested his explanation, swallowed visibly but not quite audibly, then said, "You're going to forge a magical bond with the Sun-on-Earth to heal the magical disruption?" Her tone was surprised and heavily laced with concern, but in no way awed.

Cliopher wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but knew he couldn’t. Instead, he nodded in agreement. "Technically the bond is already partly formed. We're just going to complete it."

"And once it’s complete, you'll still be able to feel him, but he'll also feel you?"

"Yes," he acknowledged. "There could be other side effects as well, but no one's sure what they might be. While there's a record that such bonds existed before the Empire of Astandalas effectively became an impossible place for Wild Mages, no historian has documented what exactly such a bond entails."

Kiri took a shuddering breath. “You said that Commander Omo knows about this, Lord Mdang? He has to be incredibly concerned about the potential security issues. If someone wanted to hurt the Glorious One, all they would need to—"

"Oh, yes, Commander Omo is well aware,” Cliopher interjected. “And I am sure he’s having a—well, I probably shouldn’t say heart attack right now, should I? But yes, I am certain he is having a number of conniptions. The high priests were apparently very clear with his Radiancy about what this bond could entail. They strongly believe that if one of us is killed, the other will most likely die too.”

"And this was the best solution anyone could come up with?"

"Given the interplay of wild magic, yes. My lord vehemently refused to let me give my life. This was considered the next best option.”

"Well, of course he wouldn't let you die, Lord Mdang," Kiri said, letting out a sharp bark of laugher, as if it was the most ridiculous option imaginable rather than the most practical one given the situation.

Before Cliopher could say anything further, she tapped her fingertips on her desk. "So. You need to complete a magical bond with the Sun-on-Earth—one so legendary that no one exactly knows what the bond will do to you. Most likely, once the bond is complete, if one of you dies, you both will. Wild magic and schooled magic will see you as the same, treat you as the same—"

Cliopher recognized the moment Kiri finished adding up the numbers: her eyes widened, her mouth gaped, her breath stuttered. "Oh, my dear lord, you're going to become subject to the taboos." It was a statement, not a question. Her words were almost inaudible, as if she was hoping she was wrong but knew very well that she wasn't.

"Now you see why I must step down," Cliopher said quietly, knowing there was no need to dwell on the point. "The Imperial Bureaucratic Service is meant to be a pillar of government. The head of it should be relatively independent, if accountable to the Sun-on-Earth. I can't be seen as remotely independent if his Radiancy and I are so intertwined that anyone looking at us with magic won't be able to tell us apart."

"That's—that's—a difficult concept to wrap my mind around." Kiri rubbed her temples, then let out another audible breath. "At least you'll have more time to focus on the government reconstruction project." She glanced at him, anxiously. "You are still going to be leading that, I hope?"

Cliopher gave a small hum of agreement. "I promise you won’t have to worry about taking that over. We’ve already been quite transparent that the project will culminate with the Last Emperor’s retirement and the appointment of the new Lady or Lord of Zunidh. We'll simply need to make it clear that I will be retiring at the same time as his Radiancy."

Kiri tapped her desk decisively. "We will manage this, Lord Mdang. Everyone in the Private Offices will do our best to make the transition smooth, and to give you the support you're most assuredly going to need in the days to come. Now, when exactly is this bonding supposed to take place?"

Cliopher winced. "In ten days.” At Kiri's incredulous look, he added, "And my lord wants me to take this week to spend with my family. Given the situation, that is."

"And well you should, Lord Mdang," Kiri said immediately. “I am sure your family must be quite concerned about everything, particularly—” She didn’t finish the thought, but they both understood.

There was silence between them for a long moment, then Kiri pushed several folders noisily to the side of her desk and opened a notebook. "All right then, Lord Mdang. Recognizing the…complications about to rain down on you—and the Private Offices—we'd better get started.  What do you need from me?"

***

Cliopher confirmed that Kiri wasn't interested in becoming the Secretary in Chief, although she was more than happy to take on the role until Aioru was ready for the promotion. Ten days was not enough sufficient time to manage such a major transition, so Kiri would take responsibility for training Aioru over the next few months.

Speaking with Aioru was much easier for having told Kiri first. Cliopher was glad to see Kiri had taken the news without any hint of awe, considering it more as a problem to be managed—exactly what Cliopher had been hoping for. She took the lead on explaining the situation to Aioru.

While he was nearly as shocked as Kiri had been at Cliopher’s intent to resign, Aioru was also enthusiastic to learn about his own forthcoming promotion. "Lord Mdang, thank you. Thank you," he said excitedly. "I would be honoured to be able to expand on all your great work within the Private Offices–and to help in any possible way with the reformation project."

Cliopher couldn't help but grin at Aioru's enthusiasm. While he was incredibly young for such a position, he wasn't that much younger than Cliopher had been when he'd been first given the role by his Radiancy. "In time, I wouldn't be surprised to see you as Chancellor, Aioru. I have complete faith in your competence and abilities."

After so many years in the position, Cliopher knew it would be strange to let go, but he was also confident that Aioru would keep the fire he had lit in the Private Offices going strong in the years to come. And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be working with the Private Offices significantly while working to redesign the government; it was simply that he would no longer be responsible for their day-to-day activities.

Cliopher left the Private Offices well-assured that Kiri and Aioru had the matter of transition well in hand, would spread the word of the upcoming ceremony and Cliopher’s resignation, and would ensure the wheels of government continued to run smoothly—even should Cliopher require a significant adjustment period following the ceremony.  Neither Kiri, nor Aioru had the effrontery to suggest that the Glorious and Serene One might be so human as to also need time to adjust, but Cliopher knew they’d be prepared for such an event regardless.

***

After returning to his apartments, Cliopher pulled Zaoul, Tully, and his nephew from their work to give them the news of the upcoming transition. They took it with grace, possibly because he finished his monologue with the assurance that their work since joining him had been exceptional and that he was glad to have them as his secretaries even as his role evolved to focus more on restructuring the government.

Once that discussion was over, Cliopher remembered his Radiancy's command regarding the next week. "Our lord has bid me to take the time prior to the beginning of the purification rites off to spend with my family, given the complexities that will come after the ceremony is completed," he told them. "He asked me to send you up to the Imperial Apartments. His Radiancy is quite committed to getting back to work so that I don't have to."

"But isn't his Radiancy still recovering?" Tully asked, a hint of nervousness in her words.

"Yes, he is." Cliopher gave her an appreciative glance. "And that's why I want you to make certain that anything that can possibly go to anyone else in the palace does so. Don't keep anything from his Radiancy that is critical, but do not waste his time on anything that isn't urgent or a top priority. If you're uncertain, ask Kiri."

"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.

Cliopher smiled at them. "I am sure you will all perform excellently. That said, I am here. Should anything need my attention before the purification ceremonies start, I can take a look first thing in the morning or in the evening. I'd rather spent a bell each day keeping on top of things than being surprised later.” He shook his head ruefully. "His Radiancy will suggest you not bother me. But I would not consider it a bother. I would be more concerned if I thought you wouldn't bring a matter to me in need."

"Yes, sir,” Zaoul acknowledged, while Tully and Gaudy nodded.

Cliopher shifted in his chair so he could look directly at his nephew. "Gaudy, I expect you'll be juggling between work and our family a lot more over the next week than you've needed to over this past one."

"You can count on me, sir." His nephew grinned. "I've had lots of time with the family, Uncle Kip. They'll understand. They'll be so happy to get some time with you. I think they're all a bit worried, not that they'll tell you that."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Cliopher said. "I'll want you back managing everyone for the days leading into the ceremony when neither I, nor his Radiancy, will be available—and the day of the ceremony itself. You'll need to keep them from worrying too much."

Cliopher frowned, considering the possibilities. "It might be quite hard,” he admitted. “We don't know enough about the ceremony to understand how it will affect us—his Radiancy and I—I mean. That uncertainty is why his Radiancy is announcing a week of holiday. But our family is due to return home the next day. While I will do everything in my power to see them off, if I'm still recovering, please ensure they know that I'll write them soonest."

He paused for a moment before voicing one last thought: "You’ll need to remember the taboos will be in place if I am able to see them off. I don’t trust Mama or your mother will remember."

Gaudy's eyes widened in understanding. Their family wasn’t at all conditioned to palace etiquette and they were, well, who they were. Mdangs were quite well known for acting without thinking. "I'll make certain there are no issues, Uncle Kip. Sir. You can trust me."

"I do.”

***

After his secretaries left to report to his Radiancy, Cliopher took a little over a bell to go through everything on his desk. That morning, he hadn’t planned to take the rest of the week for himself—much less a nebulous amount of time afterwards—so he wanted to clear away or reassign everything he could.

Once he wrote a final note on a summary about a proposed change to an intermundial tax treaty, he tucked his pens and inks away in his writing kit and tidied his desk. Just as Cliopher was contemplating whether to track down his family and tell them of his Radiancy’s instructions to spend time with them or take a bath and wait for them to return on their own, Franzel bustled in with a tray, followed closely behind by Conju.

“Cliopher,” Conju said, a note of admonishment clear in his voice. “My understanding is that his Radiancy told you to take the rest of the week off.”

“I took that to mean after today,” Cliopher said. “I couldn’t leave my desk full. What if there was something important waiting?"

Conju laughed. “Was there?”                   

“Nothing serious, but now it’s all been taken care of or passed on to someone else, so I can take the leave to spend time with my family without worry.  Well–with less worry." Cliopher frowned for a moment, before adding, “And you can tell his Radiancy that I spoke to both Kiri and Aioru and my secretaries about resigning as the Secretary in Chief. The conversations went well and I’m sure there will be no issues.”

"And how was that?” Conju gave him a thoughtful, considering look.

“Not as hard as I thought it would be." Cliopher tried not to let his sigh get too out of hand. "But ask me again in a few weeks. It’s going to be passing odd not having to worry about the day-to-day issues of the Private Offices. It’s been so much a part of my life for—well, however long it’s been.”

“I expect you’ll have more than enough to concern yourself with that you will barely notice,” Conju said. “Now here, have a cup of tea.”

While Conju and Cliopher had been talking, Franzel had set out three cups of tea and a plate of fruit slices. Cliopher looked back and forth between them. “Should I be concerned?” he asked, gesturing for them to sit.

Once they were settled in comfortable chairs on the opposite side of his desk, Cliopher took a sip of his tea. It was herbal, with a faint hint of ginger and lemon. Soothing and calming—that didn’t bode well for the prospective conversation.

"I was actually going to arrange to speak with you," Cliopher told Conju. "But looking at you both now, I expect one of you is a few steps ahead of me planning wise. I suspect you want to discuss the taboos?"

"Yes, sir," Franzel said. "Lord Conju and I spoke quite candidly this morning about managing the taboos here like they are in the Imperial Apartments."

Well, that answered the question of where Conju had been when Cliopher had been talking to his Radiancy and Ludvic. He nodded. "I can't expect it will be easy."

"No," Conju agreed. "Not easy at all. In the Imperial Apartments, there are numerous layers of protections and safeguards in place to ensure space, distance, and separation. There's nothing that lends itself to the breaking of a taboo, even by accident."

No doubt the protocols to manage the taboos within the Tower had been honed perfectly over the many years they’d been in place, even if some would have been relaxed since the Fall. After Cliopher nodded in understanding, Conju continued. "While your household was formed from junior attendants in the Tower, none have served his Radiancy directly.”

Franzel nodded in confirmation. "When the Glorious One visited you here, Sir, you may not have noticed, but Conju has almost always come with him to provide any refreshments required and to ensure the proper care for anything his Radiancy has used.”

His Radiancy had made more than a few surprise visits since Cliopher had moved into the Lord of Zunidh's apartments. Thinking back over them, Cliopher realized that Franzel was right. The memory that stuck out the most was when his Radiancy and Conju had brought sparkling wine to celebrate Gaudy's passing of the exams. There had been another time or two as well. "I can see that now," Cliopher said, tipping his head to Conju. "You're quite adept at making it all seem natural."

"That is my job, Cliopher," Conju said, but Cliopher could hear the hint of pleasure in his voice.

"So, what does that mean for me? It sounds like you're suggesting that everyone here will need additional training before they'll be safe. I would not want to put anyone into an unfortunate situation." Cliopher sincerely doubted that whatever had occurred between him and the Sun-on-Earth when the great taboo had been broken could be repeated. He also had no idea whether additional taboos being broken so close together could amplify the magical disruption–even after the first disturbance was healed.

The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for anyone getting hurt. "Perhaps," he suggested, "I could primarily care for myself until everyone feels confident being around me. It's only since moving here that I have had attendants at all. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

Conju chuckled. "Oh, Cliopher, you have no idea. I did warn Franzel you wouldn't." At Cliopher's look of consternation, his friend added, "It's not only the taboos directly that you need to consider. It's everything else that happens around them. The purifications undertaken in the Tower are quite extensive. We have several junior members of the Ouranatha whose sole focus is to ensure that anything that needs to be purified for his Radiancy's use, is. You might recall, our lord had to do several purifications himself while we were on vacation—such as with your cousin’s snorkel mask.”

Cliopher was almost certain he wasn't going to faint. "You mean to tell me that everything here will need to be purified?" The snorkel mask had taken his lord several hours. How long would it take to purify everything in the Lord of Zunidh's apartments? It was a striking task to consider; he'd been living in the apartments for a while now and still didn't even know how many rooms there actually were.

"Perhaps not everything, but it would be far safer to have the Ouranatha do a complete review and undertake whatever rituals and purifications they feel are required. The Imperial Apartments are cleansed quite regularly. No one is sure whether it is absolutely necessary anymore, but no one wants to be responsible for changing things if it is."

Cliopher glanced around his office, trying to imagine the amount of work–and the budget–that would be required. He rubbed the back of his head, then realized Conju and Franzel wouldn't be there if they hadn’t considered the situation fully. "Dare I hope you have a suggestion for how to proceed?"

Conju's genuine smile gave Cliopher enough of a sense of relief that he took a sip of his tea. That, of course, was when his friend said, "There's actually a very straightforward answer, Cliopher. You'll need to relocate to the Imperial Apartments."

Cliopher choked, barely avoiding spitting tea everywhere. "What?"

"It's already been decided that you will need to stay in the Imperial Apartments for the three days of the purification rituals. There's simply no other location that would suit the high priests' requirements or that could be prepared to meet their requirements so quickly," Conju said factually. "There's no reason you can't stay in the room being prepared for you there until these apartments are fully purified. That would also give us the time to provide all of your attendants with the additional training they will need to ensure everything we do in the Tower is mirrored here."

Cliopher set his head in his hands, unable to think of a single thing to say.

"It is also a good move considering that no one knows how the bond will affect you and his Radiancy," his friend said kindly. “It may be easier on you both if you remain close together, at least for the first few weeks."

"That’s wi—” Cliopher began, then paused as doubts pushed their way in. “But what would people think? People finding out about the bond and the fact I will be subject to the taboos is going to be troublesome enough. Seeing the ceremony, knowing I'm staying in the Imperial Apartments…I'll never get people to understand that we're doing this because it's what is necessary. They'll take it far too seriously. They'll think–" Cliopher seized his teacup with both hands, gulping down the last few mouthfuls hoping they'd miraculously calm his sudden panic. His hands trembled hard as he sat the cup back down.

A light hand came down on his shoulder. Another drew soft, gentle circles on his back. The motion should have been soothing. Instead, Conju's show of earnest care only reminded Cliopher that in a very short while such avenues of comfort would be beyond him. And that made him think of how long his Radiancy had had to go without such support. He felt tears leak from his eyes and moved to brush them away with an edge of his robes.

"Cliopher!" Conju gave a very gentle, amused huff. "Here."

Cliopher found a handkerchief thrust into his hand. He quickly wiped at his eyes, before looking up, somewhat chagrined. “I'm sorry," he said to them both. Across from him, Franzel looked dreadfully concerned. Cliopher flushed with embarrassment. "My apologies, Franzel. I am fine. Give me a moment."

"Lord Mdang," his majordomo said softly, voice full of consideration even as Conju continued to rub calming circles on Cliopher's back. "I would be concerned if you weren't emotional given everything that has happened—is happening."

At home, such a show of emotion was not a weakness; it was a strength. But after so long in the Palace of Stars, it was difficult to see it as anything else. Cliopher gave Franzel a silent nod of appreciation. "I have been forced to consider many things today that I've avoided thinking about," he admitted, unable to make his words anything more than barely audible. “I admit, I am somewhat overcome.”

“My profound apologies Cliopher,” Conju said, words tinged with realization and guilt. “I should have asked how you were doing before bringing this matter up. I know none of this has been easy for you.”

Cliopher wiped a fresh round of tears away and turned to meet his friend's eyes. Conju's expression was soft, understanding, gentle. He couldn't recall the last time anyone had looked at him with such care—not even when he'd returned home so broken after the Fall. And now, here, he'd received such compassion a multitude of times over the course of the day. From Conju. From Ludvic. From Franzel.

And from his best beloved. His fanoa in his thoughts, even if he had difficulties articulating the word. His Radiancy had been so greatly concerned for him that morning. So concerned, yet also so very sad and hurt when Cliopher had, without realizing it, rejected what Tor likely saw as the only opportunity he had to draw the one that he loved—to draw Cliopher—entirely across the line separating them.

Why did he even care what anyone else might think about the situation? Cliopher knew from experience that rumours would get far more attention than fact in the palace—and even in the world beyond.

If there were going to be ridiculous stories about them regardless, then the only person Cliopher needed to care about was Tor because he deserved so much more care than he’d ever had, so much more comfort, so much more love. If Cliopher could give him that—and oh, how he wanted to give Tor that—then he should take every opportunity to do so.

“It’s a wise suggestion,” Cliopher said, nodding firmly to Conju, before managing a hint of a smile for Franzel. “We don’t know how the ceremony will go. How much we’ll be affected afterwards. Even if my own sense of his Radiancy does not grow any further, he will need to adjust to being able to feel what I feel. I can only think that remaining close to one another would help in such a situation. That, combined with the other issues that need to be addressed makes it the only acceptable choice.”

“Are you certain, Cliopher?” Conju asked. “Perhaps we could give the matter more thought.”

“I know it’s the best option, or you wouldn’t have presented it to me, Conju,” Cliopher said decisively. “The reality of the situation is that I will need to become accustomed to being seen differently, to being treated differently, once the ceremony has taken place—and that, truly, it will be safer for most everyone if that’s the case.”

Cliopher paused, trying to gather as much confidence as he could; he wanted to believe his own words. “Given that truth, I need to start thinking about what’s best for Tor and I—and making decisions accordingly. This is one of them.”

It was only afterwards, once Conju and Franzel had left to begin making the appropriate arrangements, that Cliopher realized exactly what he’d said.

Chapter Text

Cliopher’s family was overjoyed when he gave them the news of his week of holidays courtesy of his Radiancy that night at dinner, less so at the reminder that the week would be the last time they’d be able to touch him for what would likely be several years. Once their week together was over, Cliopher would need to move to the Imperial Apartments for the purification rituals, which meant that he wouldn’t see his family again until the ceremony itself—scheduled for the day before their return to the Vangavaye-ve.

"His Radiancy wanted to ensure you could all attend, although I expect you'll find it quite boring. Court ceremonies can last for hours," he told them casually. "If you don't…"

"Oh Cliopher, of course we're going to attend. Gaudy already gave us an invitation directly from your lord," Vinye said, rolling her eyes at him fondly. "As if we would say no to him. Although, what are we going to wear? Is what we wore to our first visit with your lord good enough?"

Cliopher's eyes widened. Before he could think of an appropriate response, Franzel stepped close to the table. "His Radiancy has asked Feonie to ensure that all of you have outfits suitable to the occasion," his majordomo said, giving them all a ready smile. "Lord Mdang's costume will be made by his Radiancy's costumier."

Before Cliopher could object, Franzel turned his way and offered a brief bow. "His Radiancy apologizes for not consulting you on the matter, but he appreciates that you are generally uninterested in such things. He said to assure you that this is no slight to Feonie, but rather a gift from Lady Ylette—who asked to design both of your costumes for the day. As it frees Feonie to dress your family, his Radiancy was quite certain you'd accept."

As Cliopher had no idea how he'd have arranged for seven court costumes, or six and a child's court attire, in such a short timespan, he could only be grateful that someone who cared more for clothing than he did had seen the challenge and sought to rectify it. "I will need to thank Lady Ylette when I see her next.”

***

The first day of his unexpected holiday went by without much trouble. Not long after the third bell, Dora dragged them all to the menagerie so Cliopher could see the tiny baby rhinoceros and the other creatures she’d fallen in love with. After promising his young cousin she could visit the menagerie at least one more time before the family went home, Cliopher took them for a walk around the palace gardens and then for supper at a restaurant Rhodin recommended.

Conju joined them for the walk and for supper, although his friend refused to speak of anything to do with the upcoming ceremony. "His Radiancy has the matter well in hand, Cliopher. He specifically told me not to allow you to get caught up in worrying about it when you’re supposed to be enjoying time with your family. He did say that your nephew will bring you the draft of the announcement to review this evening because—and I quote, “If my dear Kip doesn’t see it, he’ll find forty-two things wrong with it after the fact.”

"I wouldn't–" Cliopher started to argue, before cutting himself off. Even he had to admit that he probably would. There was a reason he wrote the vast majority of his Radiancy's announcements—including all of the sensitive ones. He gave Conju a rueful look. "Right, nevermind." All of his family members within earshot laughed.

***

After an extraordinary dinner and several glasses of quite excellent wine, Cliopher was in a pleasant mood when they arrived back at his apartments. As promised, Gaudy was waiting, draft announcement in hand. Once his nephew exchanged the requisite greetings with his mother, grandmother, and the rest of the family, Cliopher took him off to the study so he could read what his lord and nephew had drafted. It was both better and worse than he was expecting.

An announcement from the Throne of Glory

Pursuant to the recent occasion of Our heart attack and the timely intervention of our most beloved Lord Chancellor, and the resulting magic incident involving a combination of both schooled and wild magic.

During the incident, We formed part of a Wild Magic Bond with our dearest Lord Chancellor, which has caused him to exhibit traits not seen since before the founding of the Empire of Astandalas.

After due investigation and consideration, We determined that the most agreeable solution to address the array of magical ramifications of the incident is to complete the Wild Magic Bond between Ourselves and our dear Cliopher Lord Mdang and adjust the tapestry of Schooled Magic accordingly.

Such a move will not be without great impact. In addition to the life-changing effects of the Wild Magic Bond on both of Us, this action will render our most beloved Cliopher Lord Mdang subject to the Imperial Taboos still applicable to Ourselves after the Fall of Astandalas.

We expect everyone will recognize Our beloved Lord Chancellor's long-time dedication to Ourselves, Our people, and this world of Ours. We trust him implicitly and will look forward with joy to Our ability to work truly hand-in-hand with him over the next few years to arrange Our world's government such that we can retire upon the occasion of Our Jubilee and the appointment of a new Lady or Lord of Zunidh.

Recognizing the entire world has benefited from Our most beloved's many actions on Our behalf over the years and will no doubt continue to do so despite the new circumstances to which he must become accustomed, Our wish is to provide an opportunity for Our world to celebrate and honour Our bond as We do Ourselves.

To this end, the bonding ceremony and final Schooled Magic ritual will take place in Our Court in eight days time. Following the ceremony, there will be a one-week public holiday to celebrate the bonding of the Last Emperor of Astandalas to the current Lord Chancellor of Zunidh, Cliopher Lord Mdang.

By the sign and seal of His Serene and Radiant Holiness, Artorin Damara, the Sun-on-Earth, Lord of Rising Stars, Last Emperor of Astandalas, and Lord of Zunidh.

"This is…something," Cliopher said mildly after reading the draft proclamation several times and making a handful of wording changes to provide both more and less clarity. "Although I am quite certain there is no need for the copious repetition of adjectives paired with my name. Let me guess that those were not your additions?"

"His Radiancy was most insistent,” his nephew said. “You should have seen how he marked up the original draft. At least I was able to get him to change the descriptor several times. See, he also uses the words 'dearest' and 'dear' in addition to 'beloved.'" Gaudy's face was a study in poorly hidden amusement.

"I'm not sure that's any better, Gaudy," Cliopher said, cheeks warm—and not from the wine at dinner. "I believe the idea was to make it sound less like a wedding."

"To be fair, sir—Uncle Kip—I think that even without all the adjectives, most anyone who reads this will still see it as a wedding announcement. The word ‘bonding’ alone has way too many connotations. Zaoul, Tully, and I spent an entire bell trying to come up with a better…any other word for it. We even asked Lord Eldo,” Gaudy said plaintively. “He just laughed somewhat hysterically and said that it wouldn’t matter what we called it because the fact you’ll be subject to the taboos says it all.”

Cliopher could only sigh, knowing Lord Eldo’s opinion was likely not incorrect. "Please do me the favour of asking Kiri and Aioru to wait to release this until after we've left for the Liaau tomorrow. That will at least give me a day before I have to deal with everyone in the palace knowing about all this.” He shuddered at the thought.

Gaudy nodded in acquiescence. "His Radiancy did order the Private Offices to start reviewing and responding to any of your correspondence that doesn't come from family or known correspondents, effective immediately. That should help limit how much you have to put up with—at least somewhat. He also told Zaoul, Tully, and I to tell anyone who asks that you won't be accepting audiences until after the public holiday."

Cliopher decided it wasn't the time to argue that reviewing and responding to his personal mail was most assuredly not in the job description of those working in the Private Offices. For now, he would simply accept that any correspondence related to the ceremony could reasonably be classified as a topic of public interest and leave them to it.

All that left was anyone who might accost him directly about the situation while he was going about in the Palace of Stars or down in the city over the next few days. He wondered if having guards might curtail that to some degree. Somehow, he doubted it.

***

The second day of his holiday was also wonderfully pleasant and, dare he say it, peaceful. After breakfast, Captain Diogen and a park warden from the Liaau arrived to escort Cliopher and his visitors on a visit to the park on the edge of the Grey Mountains. He'd always enjoyed hiking in the Liaau so it had been high on his itinerary of things for his family to do on their visit. He couldn’t help but be grateful for his lord’s intervention as he’d never have been able to carve out the time to go with them otherwise.

The timing was unexpectedly perfect, with both the flame-of-the-forest trees and the goldrain trees in brilliant bloom—making for a picturesque hike to the waterfalls. The warden, Sagora Adonde, had happily taken them on a number of trails Cliopher hadn't visited before, including one that brought them very close to the edge of the tallest of the falls. His family was suitably impressed—as was he.

They didn't make it back to the palace until quite late, taking their dinner with the wardens living in the park for the season. By the time the sky ship docked, the hallways were quite empty, making for a relatively easy journey back to his apartments. The only people they passed were too focused on their own destinations to notice the Lord Chancellor hiding in the midst of his family. Not that he would admit to the hiding part.

Franzel was waiting to welcome them back, serving up hot tea and chocolate, along with cake, fruit, and other nibblies before everyone dispersed to their beds. Once everyone had left the dining room, Cliopher asked his majordomo how the announcement had gone.

"It was nothing too unexpected, Sir," Franzel said. "That is to say, it caused an incredibly intense stir. We had numerous people calling by to speak with you but your secretaries handled them excellently. The only significant issue was that Feonie was cornered by several people late this morning while bringing fabrics back from down in the city. Thankfully, she wasn't hurt, but she was quite shocked by the entire situation. Commander Omo has since assigned Ato and a handful of junior guards to escort Feonie and any others from the Household or from the Tower who need to go into the city for any reason. The commander told me to assure you that such an event will not happen again."

"Is Feonie well? If she needs time—" Cliopher was stricken by the thought that one of his household had been pressured for information. He hadn’t considered that possibility, hadn’t prepared for it—and he should have. He took a sharp, anxious breath, making a note to speak to Ludvic first thing in the morning to see if there was anything else he should be doing to keep his people safe.

"Feonie says that she is fine, sir. I'll keep an eye on her to make sure, however." Franzel gave him a reassuring look. “She’s also made a number of friends among the guards so I am sure they’ll watch out for her as well.”

***

On the third day of his vacation, Cliopher realized that having to manage the taboos might actually be farther down the list of deeply upsetting impacts related to the upcoming ceremony than he thought.

It started after his helpful conversation with Ludvic, when he and his family headed out just after second bell to catch a boat down the river. He'd almost forgotten the previous day's announcement in the rush to get everyone out the door—and was so caught up worrying that they’d be late to the boat—that he didn't particularly notice the amount of attention they were getting. That he was getting.

At least not until he started having people genuflect to him. The first time it happened, Cliopher was taken completely by surprise. They had just paused at the bottom of a flight of stairs when a gentleman in the colours of the Prince of Southern Dair caught sight of him and dropped down into an obeisance that even his own prince wasn't due. After staring at the man for several moments too long, Cliopher realized what he had to be waiting for. Luckily, Cliopher had spent a thousand years performing various obeisances to his Radiancy and was able to twist his hand into the proper signal to rise with only a little hesitation. Cliopher was ready for the man to ask for something—why else would he perform such an unnecessary act—but the man simply nodded and continued on his way.

“What was that about, Kip?” Vinye asked quietly, somewhat bemused.

Cliopher shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. I’m not due such acknowledgements.”

As if to argue his words, their party was stopped three more times for almost identical circumstances. When they finally made it outside, Cliopher released a very long sigh. “Sorry about the interuptions,” he apologized. “I have no idea what rumour could have sparked that reaction from people.”

“Perhaps they were responding to the announcement?” his cousin Zemius offered.

“I read it before it was released,” Cliopher told him. “There was nothing in it that would suggest my status would change. Nothing.”

He’d honestly been glad that the announcement had been so agnostic on the matter. He knew his lord wanted to make Cliopher his near-equal—fanoa, his internal voice corrected, not that Tor would understand the meaning of the word—but his Radiancy had avoided any hint of such a thing. Cliopher frowned, remembering how much he’d upset Tor with his instant rejection, but it wasn’t like they could truly be equals. He couldn’t…they couldn’t…no one would….

He pushed the thought away, shutting his eyes and focusing directly on his lord instead. His Radiancy was quite calm this morning, only hints of uncertainty and concern hovering beneath the surface. Deciding that if his lord wasn’t anxious, then he shouldn’t be either, Cliopher opened his eyes and smiled at his family. “There will be enough time to worry over rumours later. Let’s just focus on having a wonderful day.”

His mother and Vinye exchange obviously concerned looks; Cliopher pretended not to see.

***

It didn’t take long to realize how far news of the announcement had spread even in less than a day. While Cliopher was relieved to find that few recognized him in more casual dress outside of the palace, the captain of the riverboat knew exactly who he was. Captain Ekani was profusely welcoming, insisting that Cliopher and his family take one of the private cabins with an enclosed balcony for their use. He even went so far as to invite Dora to the bridge for half a bell. His young cousin spent the rest of the ride proclaiming her desire to learn everything there was to know about ships.

Cliopher, who'd sailed across the Wide Seas in a boat of his own hand’s shaping—much as he’d never been asked to share the story of it—admired her commitment. Before his family left, he would have to suggest that his Aunt Oura ask Buru Tovo to teach Dora a few things. Whether Dora might want to sit at his feet when she was older, he didn’t know—but why not light the flame now and see if it would catch?

As he stood against the rail watching the countryside pass by, Cliopher couldn't help thinking of what his retirement might look like now that he and his Radiancy would be forever interconnected. Would his lord want to come to the Vangavaye-ve with him? Would he want to live elsewhere? Cliopher couldn't imagine living far from Tor, and yet, if his lord chose to go elsewhere…

Cliopher’s hand went to his efela-ko, rubbing the piece of chipped obsidian absentmindedly. He knew that no one at home expected him to ever return for good, but he did. He did.

***

Cliopher had never visited the River-Horse before but it was as magnificent as promised, with views of the Fens that were inspiring. Their arrival at the restaurant reminded him a bit of the time he’d met his Radiancy for lunch at Potlatch in Gorjo City, only to find his cousins Enya and Galen working there.  At that time, his cousins had given his lord unparalleled respect and welcome, much as they had had no idea that he was the Sun-on-Earth and Last Emperor of Astandalas. At the River-Horse, Cliopher and his family were as profusely welcomed. The head chef came out, bowing low to Cliopher and promising them all an unforgettable meal.

And it most certainly was. Cliopher vaguely noticed that the meal had a significant number of salads, fresh vegetables, and fruits—all of which were remarkable–but did not make any special connection to the fact until his cousin Quintus pressed his shoulder against his and whispered, "The chef must be disconsolate about that taboo against fresh food. He's obviously committed to ensuring you have an opportunity to enjoy it to the highest degree possible while you can."

"Oh.” Cliopher managed, reconsidering the supper spread and realizing his cousin was likely on to something. Even one of the fish had been served raw—not normally a delicacy for the area, but still remarkably tasty. He smiled, slightly embarrassed. "He truly didn't need to go to so much effort."

"It's eye opening, though.” Quintus gave him an assessing look. "He truly wants to give you an experience you'll never forget. The rest of us are simply benefiting from it. Not that you'll hear me complain."

Cliopher stared down at his now empty plate, feeling his cheeks heat. "It's entirely unnecessary."

Quintus bumped his shoulder companionably. "You don't see it at all, do you?"

"See what?"

"How much people respect you, here. How much they are in awe of you. How much they don't want you to regret what you're doing."

Cliopher shook his head, utterly confused. "Why on Zunidh would I regret it?" He shut his eyes. Even here he could sense his lord. His Radiancy seemed pre-occupied, concerned, anxious—but not in the upset kind of way.

"He's well?" Quintus asked matter-of-factly once Cliopher had opened his eyes again.

Cliopher couldn’t help but smile. "A bit anxious. I really shouldn't have taken this week off. He's probably working too hard. He's still recovering." At his cousin’s grin, Cliopher raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Quintus answered, still grinning. "I can honestly say I wish I was staying longer. I'll have to start writing to Gaudy. I doubt you'll tell any of us the truth of what's happening."

"I'd never lie," Cliopher said, giving his cousin a pointed look.

"Well, of course you wouldn’t, Kip," Quintus readily agreed. "But you're also quite unreliable when it comes to telling the truth."

Cliopher huffed, but before he could say more, the chef arrived with dessert.

***

Later that evening, tucked away in his own bed, Cliopher was caught in a terrifying dream of being chased across the sky by an unrelenting awfulness when a hand shook his shoulder and a voice called, "Cliopher"—shocking him awake so badly he almost fell off his bed. Fortunately, someone grabbed his arm and kept him from taking a tumble.

As Cliopher sat up, his eyes quickly found who'd both startled him awake and saved him from falling: Rhodin, crouched by his head, garbed in his dress uniform. "What's wrong?" Without waiting for an answer, Cliopher immediately sought out his Radiancy. His lord's emotions were thick with sleep but anxious, afraid—no, petrified.

Letting out a sharp breath, he quickly rolled out of bed. Even as he did, Rhodin shoved his dressing gown at him. "Put that on. I don't want you to get cold. His Radiancy wouldn't be impressed with me."

"What?" Cliopher mumbled, blinking the sleep from his head so he could focus. He slid into the robe without thinking.

"His Radiancy is having a horrific nightmare and won't wake for us. He needs you."

Oh. That explained the chaotic but sleep-laden fear Cliopher was sensing. He shuddered in sympathy. “Give me a moment to get dressed. I can't go through the halls in my sleep robe," he said, heading towards his dressing room.

Rhodin caught his arm before Cliopher could make it two steps. "Don't worry about that. We're going a different way." His friend tugged him out the door and through the rooms leading to his study. Once there, the spymaster did something with the wall sconces until one of the stone walls pivoted to reveal a dark space beyond. "Here we are. Let’s go."

Cliopher peered into the black gap, wondering if he was still dreaming. "Trust me, Cliopher," Rhodin said quietly, steadily, calmly. "It'll be much faster this way."

He did trust Rhodin, so Cliopher ducked through the wall, coming out in a cool passageway. He couldn’t see anything beyond the patch of dim light coming in from his study, but there was smooth, cool stone beneath his bare feet. "I had no idea the palace had secret passages," he whispered, trying to ignore the shiver of dread–his own or his Radiancy's he wasn't sure.

"No one does," Rhodin told him, far too happily for the middle of the night. "Well, besides me, Ludvic, and his Radiancy. I'll tell you the story another time."

The spymaster held out a hand. Slowly, a ball of light coalesced in the space above his palm. Cliopher stared at it, amazed. "I've been practicing," Rhodin said, his small smile illuminated by the brightening light. “I’ve been getting pointers from my correspondent. You know the one—the Imposter?”

It took Cliopher a moment, but then he remembered that Rhodin had recently taken quite the delight in striking up a friendship with an imposter pretending to be Sardeet Avaramapul of the Red Company. “Oh yes, I didn’t realize you were still writing each other.”

“Oh yes! Nearly every month. I’m not quite as good a correspondent as you are, of course, but she doesn’t complain. One day, I’ll have to tell you all about the conversations we’ve had—what we’ve learned together. But not right now. His Radiancy needs you. Come on. I'll lead the way."

Cliopher followed Rhodin through an incomprehensible array of barren passageways, then up a tightly spiraled staircase. Eventually Rhodin stopped in front of a stone wall where someone had sketched a radiant sun. Cliopher hoped the passages were as well hidden as Rhodin proclaimed because anyone coming through them would guess exactly what the radiant sun indicated.  

Rhodin confirmed his assumption a moment later when he pressed on a worn patch near the drawing and a stone door opened. "Quiet here, Cliopher,” his friend whispered. “These passages snake through the Imperial Apartments. We don't want to disturb anyone or give the other guards apoplexy."

As Rhodin led the way into a narrow vestibule, then down an even narrower passage, Cliopher couldn’t help but wonder if these secret passages were how the Red Company had gotten into That Party. He smiled at the thought, even as Rhodin did something and part of the wall folded outward–revealing a small, empty room.

"Where are we?" He wondered, not recognizing it.

"The old privy room off his Radiancy's bedchamber—from before they added the baths."

Cliopher’s mouth dropped open. "There's a secret passage straight into his Radiancy's bedchamber and no one knows about it?" He couldn’t hide his concern, shock, upset.

"I told you, Ludvic and I know. And his Radiancy, of course. And now you. It's better kept a secret, don't you think? Don't be concerned. The guards have a good view should anyone ever find it by accident."

"And just who's guarding his Radiancy right now?" Cliopher demanded, forgetting that he was trying to be quiet. Rather than answer, the guard slid an unobtrusive panel aside and pulled Cliopher into his Radiancy’s bedchamber. A quick glance around the dimly lit room had Cliopher answering his own question: Ludvic was standing alone in front of the door.  "You left him alone?"

The spymaster’s eyes widened remarkably at Cliopher’s sharp accusation. "We took precautions first,” Rhodin said softly, reassuringly. “Ludvic stationed Varro and Zerafin right outside and then I sealed the door from within with magic. His Radiancy was never in physical danger. Metaphysical though—"

Before Rhodin could finish, Cliopher turned to Ludvic. The commander's face was pinched with frantic concern and wariness. "Just listen, Cliopher,” Ludvic said, gesturing towards the bed. "You need to do something. It's never been this bad before. Please.”

At the pure anguish in his friend’s voice, Cliopher turned his attention fully to his Radiancy. The tangle of his lord's emotions was clouded by the heavy press of sleep, but as Cliopher focused, a miasma of anxiety, fear, and desperation leaked through. Then, he heard Tor's voice, far too loud in his ears, almost a shout: "No, no, no. Don't. I can't. Not here. I don't want–No!"

His lord’s despairing plea ripped through Cliopher sharper than even the edge of his sleep-clouded emotions. Without thinking, Cliopher rushed across the room and threw open the bed curtains. Huddled near the centre of the bed, his dear Tor, the one he dared wish to call his fanoa, was curled almost into a ball, shaking, eyes pinched shut, face screwed up in torment, arms rigid with fear.  

Cliopher's heart thudded hard in his chest. Before he could second guess himself, he scurried onto the bed. "My lord," he called, softly but forcefully. When that didn’t work, he scooted closer, demanding: "Tor. Wake up!"

Even such a treasonous command received no response, as if his Tor had been taken by a nightmare as once his ancestor had been taken by the Sun. Drawing in a short, choppy breath, Cliopher wrapped his hands gently around Tor’s and carefully peeled them open. His lord’s beautiful fingers were hot, too hot. Cliopher tugged Tor towards him, gently, protectively, tenderly—until he had the curl of the Sun-on-Earth trembling in his lap, head pressed tight against his chest. "Tor, wake up," he repeated. "It's only a dream. I'm here. Wake up."

He gasped as Tor woke in a fearsome panic. "All is well. All is well. I have you," Cliopher said gently as they both shuddered against a kurakura of emotions. Cliopher kept his embrace light in case his lord wanted, needed to pull free. But Tor didn’t want that at all—instead, he wrapped one arm fiercely around Cliopher's chest and burrowed the other between the folds of Cliopher's dressing gown. Cliopher had barely a moment of warning, before his lord's too hot hand came down flat on his bare chest, above his heart. Tor’s magic poured through him bright and hot, a sparkling tidal wave resonating with a desperate, clinging need.

Cliopher tightened his embrace, holding fast against the breaking emotions, the breaking magic. He hummed softly, soothingly, focusing on being the rock his lord, his Tor, the one he thought of as his fanoa, needed.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the storm of Tor's nightmares and his chaotic emotions eased, shifting first to exhaustion, then to relief, and then finally to a very soft amusement. "You're humming Aurora to calm the Last Emperor of Astandalas?" Tor asked, his voice weak, thready, almost inaudible.

Cliopher flashed hot with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, my lord. I wasn't—I wasn’t thinking. I thought it would be…would be soothing. I didn’t realize it was Aur—"

"You find Aurora soothing. Of course, you do, my dear Kip. Of course, you do." Fondness, perhaps even a kind of love, trembled through the link, fragile, uncertain, full.  His lord wriggled closer, pressed his head even more tightly against Cliopher’s chest. "Please then, continue."

***

Cliopher woke at the dawn bell to find his Radiancy already awake, sitting up, and watching him quietly. Feeling his lord’s fondness, he couldn’t help but offer a sleepy smile. “You seem better this morning, my lord. You didn’t have another nightmare?”

“I slept perfectly well after you arrived, my dear Kip. You certainly chased the nightmares away.”

Cliopher considered his Radiancy’s response, decided it was an invitation. “What was it my lord? It seemed dreadful. Rhodin said the guards couldn’t wake you.” There was a long pause, but Cliopher waited. Listen first, ask questions later.

"Old memories,” his lord, his Tor, said finally, softly, shuddering a little. “Of the time I became emperor.”

Cliopher sensed the rising horror and scooted closer, wrapping an arm treasonously around his lord’s back. Tor let out an appreciative sigh, leaning into the half-embrace. "I've never told you this. Never told anyone. But during my time as the Marwn, I escaped the tower I'd been relegated to and I found a number of adventures."

Cliopher's eyebrows rose. "You won yourself free?" he asked, surprised but heartened. He’d always thought that Tor had never known anything but life as the secluded Marwn or as the untouchable Emperor.

"I did. For fourteen years, I travelled the world, made good friends, had a number of adventures." Tor's emotions echoed with deep joy and love, before twisting sharply downwards. "Then one day, as I was riding through a forest, the Empire's magic came for me."

Cliopher, feeling the desolation of that memory, rubbed his –Tor's– arm gently. His lord took a sputtering breath. "I couldn't outrun it. I tried. Gods, I tried. It chased me across the sky, across several worlds, until it finally caught me back at the edge of the world on Colhélhé. The Empire's wizards showed up soon after, shut my magic away, tore my will apart, and pinned me to the heart of Astandalas." Tor’s words were heavy with pain, his emotions radiating it. "It was a nightmare beyond belief. And yet, it was only too real."

Cliopher squeezed Tor as close as he could with one arm, using his other to grab one of Tor’s shaking hands. "I don't know how you didn't walk away after the Fall, how you had the strength to accept the crown of Zunidh."

"Don't you?" His lord quirked a lip into the tiniest of smiles, one not echoed by his turbulent emotions. "I've had this nightmare many times before, many times. But this time it was different. This time I knew it was you that was running and all I wanted was for you to be free. I didn't want you to be caged."

Cliopher let go of Tor for a moment so he could push himself up to a seated position, then tugged Tor until they were facing each other. Taking a soft breath, he ran his fingertips ever so softly down the sides of his Tor's face. "My lord. My Tor. You aren't caging me. You're letting me in so I can help you break out."

Cliopher dropped his hands to his lord's shoulders and squeezed as softly, as gently, as reassuringly as Tor had squeezed him just a few days ago, grounding him, soothing him.

"But you're doing for me what I did for Lady Jivane," Tor said, his worry deep and anxious.

"I'm not," Cliopher denied, quietly but forcefully. "If anything about this situation is similar to that one, it's only that I am choosing to stay. But I'm not doing it for Zunidh. I'm doing it for you. Because there's no way I could leave and shut the door behind me. Not knowing what I know. Not feeling what I feel."

Cliopher shrugged, helplessly. " I can't pretend that I'll enjoy the requirements of the next few years. I don't like knowing I won't be able to be your Hands anymore. I don't like knowing that people will look at me differently, treat me differently—that they already are. I don't like that travelling will be difficult, eating outside the Palace will be difficult, and that if I do something wrong I could easily damage…damage the world."

Cliopher released his lord's shoulders, took his hands instead and squeezed them softly, tenderly. "But my dear Tor, I will enjoy this. I'll enjoy making sure you're not alone. I'll enjoy being able to touch you, to hug you, to comfort you. I'll enjoy being able to–" Cliopher harnessed his deepest wishes, all his courage. "—being able to be friends with you."

He smiled as gently and honestly as he could. "I've wanted to be for a long time, you know. Since before Navikiani. But it was such a treason to even think it, much less act upon it."

Tor's face lit up, his fondness welled up, so strong Cliopher could barely breathe. "I expect I'd enjoy any acts of treason if they're coming from you, my dear Kip."

Cliopher laughed at how his lord's words so echoed his sister's. "I'll have to become more inventive then."

At that moment, Conju came in from the baths. "Oh!" he said, startled, clearly surprised. "Cliopher? No one told me you were here."

Ludvic coughed loudly from the doorway, quite out of his usual character. "He’s not here."

Conju raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between the guards, Cliopher, and his Radiancy. "It certainly…"

"Rhodin brought Cliopher in through a secret passage," the Sun-on-Earth said serenely, taking the burden of explanation on himself. "No one else knows that he's here."

"Speaking of which, we should get you back, Cliopher," Rhodin said. "Before your family wakes up—or your household comes looking for you."

It would certainly cause a kerfuffle if Cliopher disappeared from his own rooms or appeared in the Imperial Apartments without anyone's knowledge. "My lord? Tor?" he asked, squeezing Tor's hands gently.

His lord's face was bright, dare Cliopher say it, almost happy. "Of course, my dear Kip. Go ahead. This is your week with your family. I'm sorry to have intruded on that."

"Never worry about that, my lord. They won't even know that I was gone. If you need me, all you need to do is let me know." Cliopher raised a hand to his heart without thinking.

Tor’s eyes softened with amusement. "Be careful making promises like that, my dear Kip," he said with a soft laugh. "I might never want you to leave."

***

Cliopher made it back to his rooms just in time to catch Shoanie bringing him a cup of chocolate. After enjoying it over a few pages of one of Aya's books, he bathed quickly, appreciating that at least he'd spent the night with his Radiancy dressed in his sleepwear this time rather than in his incredibly expensive work robes.

As he toweled dry, Cliopher caught sight of shimmering gold in his bathing room’s mirror. He stepped close, raising his hand to press against his chest, his heart, his lord's mark. This handprint was even more brilliant than the ones on his arms–searing, radiant, glowing. But then, his Radiancy's magic had been riled so high; it had crashed over him like a wave, through him with even more power than during the heart attack. Cliopher was, perhaps, fortunate this mark hadn't been the first. He wasn't sure he could have withstood such a storm of magic without having the other marks first.

Leaving that thought aside, Cliopher dressed in one of his least impressive robes, of the kind Feonie had been setting out for him during his family's visit, knowing she'd noticed they were more relaxed when he appeared more casual. Not that any of the regular inhabitants of the palace would be taken in by the simplicity, as the quality of the fabrics was exquisite. Kip suspected his cousin Quintus was not fooled either given he was the captain of a trading ship, but it wasn't as if his cousin would say anything.

And if such simplicity made his mother the least bit more comfortable, then it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

***

With the exception of his late night—or early morning depending on which direction a person counted it from–excursion, the fourth and fifth days of Cliopher's family time went by smoothly, particularly as he made every effort to get out of the palace as early as possible so as to avoid too many observers and the ridiculous degree of genuflections that people within the palace had decided he was warranted.

He had thought the first day following the announcement would be the worst for overdone acknowledgements as Lord Lior, the Master of Ceremonies and acknowledged expert on everything to do with etiquette within the Palace of Stars, would not have had time to review the matter–but it only got worse over the following days as the entire palace picked up the habit of offering him first degree genuflections.

This suggested that Lord Lior had decided that Cliopher was due the same respect as his Radiancy outside of formal prostration—which made Cliopher question the man’s sanity. Out of sheer annoyance and frustration, Cliopher went so far as to look up the etiquette himself on the fifth night, but there was no equivalent for what he was being given. Even a consort or a viceroy was only due a second-degree genuflection. He wished there was an easy way to argue the point, but decided avoidance was the only viable option. The last thing he wanted to hear was Lord Lior’s rationale.

Avoidance did work quite well, although he suspected some family members weren’t too excited about the early morning wake up calls. On the fourth day, he brought them to visit the grand market, spending the day wandering the multitude of stalls. Thankfully, no one there gave Cliopher a second glance, possibly because he'd convinced his guards–after getting approval from Commander Omo–to not wear their uniforms.  

On the fifth day, Cliopher took his family wandering in the wilder areas of the palace gardens and then to Ludvic's bar in the Levels for lunch–mostly because Ludvic had assured him that no one of note beyond themselves knew about the place and that Giya would treat Cliopher no differently than she would any of Ludvic's other friends. Cliopher had been grateful to find that exactly the case, and even more grateful to find that his family enjoyed the Azilinti food and drink as much as he had on his first visit.

***

On the sixth day of his mandated vacation, reality finally began to rear its head. The fact it took so long given the situation and the upcoming ceremony was quite impressive to Cliopher’s mind. Both his Radiancy and his secretaries had obviously done everything and anything they could to see that Cliopher’s family time remained uninterrupted as long as possible.

But with only a handful of days until the ceremony, Feonie needed time with each member of his family to check fittings and make adjustments. This, of course, led to discussions about the clothing his costumier was making—and how grand it was. Cliopher tried to assure his mother and his Aunt Oura that the family's court costumes were on the simpler end, but he didn't think it helped much.

While he decided not to ask for the budget for his family’s costumes in advance of the ceremony, the anxieties of his family did remind Cliopher to make a note to ensure that the funds came out of his personal accounts. It was entirely inappropriate for the money to come out of the Lord Chancellor’s budget after all. And, well, it wasn't as if he’d spent much of his salary over the many years of his service. Most of his day-to-day expenses were covered.

While Feonie met with his family, Lady Ylette came to visit him—also to verify measurements, although she refused to let him see the costume she was making. "His Radiancy doesn't want you concerned. Have faith that it will be suitable to the occasion. No more and no less."

That comment did nothing to make him less concerned. Nor did his lord's emotions; while Tor's anxiety remained incredibly high, Cliopher also felt sparks of wonder, optimism, and growing anticipation. At least Tor had not had any more nightmares as far as Cliopher could tell—none of the scale to require another midnight visit from Rhodin in any event.

Late in the afternoon on the sixth day—two days before the purifications were scheduled to start—the new High Priests of the Ouranatha arrived at Cliopher’s apartments to walk him through what was going to happen.

The two new high priests were incredibly courteous–likely well aware of what had happened to their predecessors. They took their time explaining that the three days would include a combination of rituals—at dawn, noon, sunset, and midnight each day, interspersed with cleansing baths and tonics. The tonics, they hastened to assure Cliopher, would not affect his perceptions. Cliopher’s relief at the news only lasted a moment, however, as the high priests went on to warn that the build-up of magic over the course of the three days likely would. What exactly that meant, Cliopher wasn't certain he wanted to know.

Once they were done with their very practical–and likely highly simplified–explanations, the two priest-wizards gave room for Cliopher to ask questions. The only one he could think of was: "When will the taboos settle?"

One of the high priests—he couldn't tell who was who as they'd chosen to wear the normal masks of the order rather than the ones denoting their positions—gave a firm nod at the question. Likely, they'd been anticipating it. "Officially, they'll settle the moment the Court ritual is complete, Lord Mdang,” one said. “Given the amount of magic His Serene and Radiant Holiness will be working through you, we are quite certain you will feel it." Cliopher couldn't read the priest's expression through the mask, but he could hear them take a sharp breath.

“Lord Chancellor, you should know that the process very likely won't be pleasant. The bindings used on the emperor to hold Astandalas together were…horrific. Necessary, one could argue, but horrific.” The priest took another loud breath. “While the Fall broke many of these bindings, the ones remaining are quite a tangle. We are working to map a way to untangle them, but the process has barely begun and won't help with this."

After the priest took yet another audible breath, Cliopher realized they were trying to remain calm, to provide Cliopher with some semblance of certainty when they apparently didn’t have any themselves. He couldn’t truly fault them; nothing like this had ever happened before. "The rituals are intended to help the tapestry of schooled magic recognize the magic within you as the Glorious One’s,” the priest continued. “If the bindings weren't tangled, the culmination of the ceremonies would immediately cause the restrictions to snap down on you. One moment of shock and it would be done."

"And now?" Cliopher asked, hesitantly, knowing full well he wouldn’t like the answer.

"It could last…significantly longer as the bindings fight to settle on you. While we can't say for certain, it could be quite painful, particularly if, at that time, you feel the magic as strongly as the Glorious One typically does."

Cliopher's heart stuttered at the thought of Tor having to feel such a thing through him, of having to feel the bindings closing as if it were happening to him—again. He shuddered at the thought of adding to his lord's nightmares. "Is there a way…Is there any way…Can this be done before Tor seals the Wild Magic Bond?"

Cliopher realized what he’d said right after he said it, his face immediately flushing hot. It was one thing to use his Radiancy's name accidently in front of friends, but in front of the new high priests? He desperately wanted to end the meeting, but he had to finish his thought; it was too important. He pressed his hands hard against the desk’s top in an attempt to hold off his trembling, rein in his embarrassment. "I would prefer his Radiancy not have to feel it."

He had no idea what his face was showing, but the two high priests looked at each other for a long time. Cliopher had heard the masks allowed the wizard-priests to communicate telepathically; it certainly seemed to be the case given their body language. After a few moments, the priest who’d done most of the talking so far turned away from his counterpart to look at Cliopher. "We can recommend the order of ceremonies be adjusted to do so, Lord Mdang,” the priest said, a hint of distressing realization slipping into his otherwise neutral tone. “Of course, his Serene and Radiant Holiness has the final say."

Cliopher considered how best to get Tor to agree without making him worry. "Perhaps suggest that it would be better to remind the Court of the way forward, rather than of the past by ending the ceremony with the sealing of the bond." He frowned, then decided his fear was worth voicing, no matter how treasonous it was. "If it is as bad as you suggest it could be, I don't know that the palace could survive his Radiancy having to feel the bindings settling first hand as he would if the order isn’t changed. Once was more than enough for him, I promise you."

The two high priests exchanged another long look. "We had thought such a sharing would be better for you, Lord Mdang. That it would ground through the process," the same priest said.

Cliopher shook his head vehemently. "I hold the fire, I'm not afraid of its burn," he said, not realizing the priests wouldn’t have the context to understand his declaration. But the words meant everything to him—and if he was going to hold this fire, he was going to protect it with everything he was.

It seemed the high priests understood Cliopher's intent if not the actual meaning of his words. They both stood and bowed low, far lower than they had when they'd first arrived. "The Glorious One is fortunate to have you, Cliopher Lord Mdang," one said. "May your gods always smile on you."

***

Cliopher woke before dawn on the day before the purification rituals were set to begin feeling incredibly anxious. It took him too long to realize that some of his anxiety was coming from his Radiancy—likely because it so mirrored his own. He couldn't help but wonder whether his lord, his Tor, his—the one he wanted to name his fanoa although the word refused to break from his lips—was rethinking what was to come.

No, he knew Tor wasn't. He knew it, could feel the hope and anticipation hovering right below the anxiety. But it was impossibly difficult for Cliopher not to second guess even the emotions he readily felt.

He wondered if it would be easier once Tor could sense him too, but given the mess Cliopher still managed to make of things, he somehow doubted it. Sharing emotions somehow left plenty of room for confusion, uncertainty, and questions. But, perhaps, it would make it easier to at least voice the thoughts he hadn't been able to yet. Yet.

Knowing he wasn't going to sleep any further, Cliopher slipped out of bed to get ready for the day. He took his time enjoying a bath and then dressing, before heading to the dining room to see if there was any coffee. Someone—likely Shoanie or Franzel—had anticipated his earlier than usual waking. There was a hot carafe of coffee waiting, along with a tray of pastries and a bowl of fruit.

Allowing himself a sad smile because there was no one to see, Cliopher took two small oranges and a cup of coffee to his sitting room. He peeled and ate the oranges first, one section at a time, savouring their intense flavour—grateful he’d been given so much time to eat more of the foods he shortly wouldn’t be able to.

He refused to be melancholy about it. At least his restrictions had a time limit; he wasn't going into this expecting never to be able to eat fruit or uncooked foods ever again. It would be a few years at the most and then he could make up for lost time.

Lost time. His—Tor would have so much lost time to make up. Cliopher would need to suss out what Tor might have missed most and ensure it was waiting for him the day all of the taboos ended. While he might not be able to join Tor on his quest, Cliopher could at least make sure he had a wonderful send-off.

Just after the second bell, Shoanie came into his study and offered a quiet murmur of, "Good morning, Sir. Your family is starting to rise. Your sister Vinye and cousin Zemius are already in the breakfast room."

Cliopher took the hint and put a mark in the book he was reading—the same one of Aya's he’d been working his way through for a couple of weeks—and stood up. Following Shoanie back to the dining room, he schooled his face to calm. As he entered the dining room, he smiled broadly. "Good morning Vinye, Cousin Zemius—oh, Aunt Oura!"

"Oh Kip," his Aunt Oura said fondly, waving him to the seat next to her. "Good morning. You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep. Anxious, are you?"

Surprised at her easy read of the situation, Cliopher managed to nod, even as he took the seat she'd indicated. He'd grown up in the Vangavaye-ve after all; he wasn't about to disrespect his aunt simply because he was used to a specific seat at his own table. "A bit. I expect anyone would be."

She patted his arm gently. "The winds may be changing, Kip, but you've always been able to follow your ke’ea," she said quietly, kindly, supportively. "Even when it hasn't been the one anyone else expected."

He glanced up, uncertain how to take her words, knowing how much the ceremony might feel like he was turning away from his heritage. "I will come home," he promised. "No matter all of this, I am planning to come home."

His aunt gave him a soft smile, patted his arm again. "Of course, you are, Kip. Tovo always says, 'Someone always leaves.' You've been gone longer than most, but that doesn't mean we won't be waiting for you when your boat finds the Gates of the Sea. She bent close, whispering, "I hope you bring your fanoa when you do."

His eyes widened and he stared. His Aunt Oura laughed, ever so softly. "Oh Kip! It's blindingly obvious how much you care for him. It's just as obvious how much he cares for you." Cliopher didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing—focusing on pouring himself another coffee instead. He was obviously going to need it.

The rest of the family wandered in over the next bell. The atmosphere in the dining room was quiet and restrained, as if everyone wanted the time to last longer, to not end at all. But the time did pass and eventually Franzel and Shoanie came in with breakfast. And right behind them came his Radiancy and Conju, with Ludvic and Rhodin as honour guards.

"My lord!" Cliopher said, hurrying to his feet.

Before he could move to make his obeisances, the Sun-on-Earth waved him off. "We're almost beyond that, my dear Kip. I dare say we can start a bit early."

"My lord?" Cliopher tried not to stare as his Radiancy took the empty seat next to him, gesturing for everyone else to sit as well.

After everyone had settled back into their chairs and Conju had poured a cup of coffee for his Radiancy, the Sun-on-Earth turned slightly and gave Cliopher a brilliant smile. "Once these ceremonies are over, the magic will see us as the same, my dear Kip. I think that's an excellent excuse to do away with all the obeisances.” He paused, turning to the rest of the table. “Don't you?" he said, nodding to Cliopher’s family.

After a silence that likely wasn’t nearly as long as it felt, Vinye nodded firmly. "Oh yes, my lord," Cliopher’s sister said, giving Cliopher a look so sharp he could almost feel her kicking him despite the fact she was on the opposite end of the table. "I mean, Cliopher has been quite annoyed with all the ones people are giving him now and it's just been a few days. I expect you don't like it much either, do you?'

Cliopher's eyes widened at Vinye's tone. He turned immediately to assess his Radiancy’s reaction, but his lord didn’t seem upset at all. No—he was amused, happy, elated even. His Radiancy—no, Tor, he was most definitely Tor in that moment–loved that Vinye was treating him like someone normal, like a friend, like family—like, like her brother's fanoa. Cliopher had to blink hard to avoid shedding tears.

"I am quite used to it by now, Saya Vawen," Tor said serenely, unable to feel Cliopher's inner realizations. "Of course, that doesn't mean I won't take advantage of the rare opportunity to throw protocol out the window."

Cliopher basked in the feel of Tor’s brimful happiness, so much so that he almost missed his next words. "Now, I admit I was worried you might all waste your last day together worrying about Cliopher. So, I decided to come and spend it with you. I hope you don’t mind.” Tor gave everyone a radiant smile. “Surely there's something we can do to keep your minds—and particularly Kip's–off of certain matters?"

Cliopher watched his family exchange surprised looks. But before any of them could think of responding, his young cousin Dora piped up, "Lord Artorin, have you seen the baby rhinoceros?"

Tor immediately looked to Cliopher, who tried desperately not to laugh at the uncertain look on his lord's face. "In the menagerie," Cliopher finally explained. "Dora has proclaimed that it is the cutest animal ever. She thinks everyone should see it."

His lord smiled radiantly, before turning to Dora with an open smile. "Well, as it happens, I have not seen the baby rhinoceros, Sayina Dora. What do you think?" Tor asked, turning to include all the adults in the conversation. "Should we have an adventure?"

***

His Radiancy, Tor, loved the tiny rhinoceros baby—or at least that's what he proclaimed to Dora and the joy burbling through Cliopher certainly seemed to agree.

After showing off the baby, Dora insisted on introducing Lord Artorin to all of the other animals she'd fallen in love with at the menagerie. Tor was remarkably serene through the ensuing whirlwind tour—which didn't follow any set plan or schedule and simply crossed the menagerie every which way based on Dora's whims.

The menagerie attendants were suitably startled to see the Sun-on-Earth following along after an exuberant child, but Cliopher caught several smiling and amused looks sent Tor’s way when the attendants were certain the Lord of Rising Stars wasn’t looking. Perhaps Dora was exactly what Tor needed to help people see beyond the Radiancy. While it might be treason to imagine it, Cliopher thought Tor wouldn't mind the thought—might, in fact, relish it.

The visit to the menagerie took up a surprisingly large portion of the day. Whether that was intentional or not, Cliopher wasn't sure, but he did notice that his lord made no efforts to hurry Dora along. At one point, while Tor questioned his cousin Quintus about his recent trading voyage and Conju kept his mother and Vinye occupied with a discussion about fragrances native to the Vangavaye-ve, Cliopher dropped back to walk with Ludvic and Rhodin.

"What prompted this excursion?" he asked quietly, under his breath.

Ludvic's lips turned upward in the hint of a smile, even as his eyes darted across everything around them keeping watch for the unexpected. "He was anxious and needed something to do. Conju is the one who suggested that you were likely also anxious so why not spend the day together? It certainly seems to have worked well."

Cliopher huffed softly, watching Tor speak casually with his cousin. It was one of the few times he'd seen his lord look so, dare he say it, relaxed. He could feel it too, in the sparkling interest, comfort, and ease coming from—from Tor. "Indeed," he said quietly, fondness for his family swelling large, love for his…for his fanoa, swelling right along with it.

***

His Radiancy walked with them all the way back to the Lord of Zunidh's apartments, which had the side benefit of giving the inhabitants of the palace someone else to focus on rather than Cliopher. Cliopher couldn't say he was at all upset by this fact—although it did make for a strange counterpoint after the impressively casual visit to the menagerie.

"My lord, would you like to come in?" Cliopher asked without thinking as they approached the door of his apartments. His Radiancy smiled both inwardly and outwardly at the invitation, but began to shake his head. "This is the last easy day you have with your family, my dear Kip. I am certain I've intruded—”

"Nonsense," Cliopher's Aunt Oura interrupted, waving a hand. "You're going to be a part of Kip's life. That means you are family."

Cliopher sensed his lord's complete surprise—whether at the interruption or his Aunt Oura's comment, he wasn't sure. Possibly, probably both.  His Radiancy’s eyes were wide as he looked to Kip for something–confirmation? "You probably know by now that everyone in the Mdang family is quite stubborn when they decide something, my lord," Cliopher said, smiling hesitantly.

It was Tor who slowly smiled back. "Well then, who am I to argue? The next time I find myself in the Vangavaye-ve again, should I count myself an honorary cousin?"

"You definitely could, my lord,” Cliopher’s niece Leona said—possibly the first time she’d spoken all day. “Or you could just say that you're Cousin Kip's fanoa. Everyone would know you’re family then.”

Cliopher gasped as Leona voiced that word as if it was perfectly simple, straightforward, easy. Perhaps to her it was. But to Cliopher, the idea of claiming the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Last Emperor of Astandalas, and Lord of Zunidh as his fanoa seemed incredibly presumptuous, ridiculous, impossible.

"Fanoa?" Tor asked curiously, turning to Cliopher—eyebrow raised in a manner Cliopher knew very well.

Cliopher felt his cheeks warm—and was immensely glad his lord couldn’t feel his emotions just yet—but he couldn't lie, not to his Radiancy, not ever. "Fanoa means a lot of different things, my lord," he said slowly, so slowly. "The oldest definition means—It means the greatest of friends. Like Elonoa'a was to Aurelius Magnus." Cliopher couldn't say the rest, not here, not now, not in the Palace of Stars where such admissions could not be said without enormous ramifications.

But it was enough. "Ahh," Tor said softly, quietly, serenely. His emotions underneath were anything but: a shining sea of approval, of fondness, of love. Tor reached out and took Cliopher's hand in his own, curling their fingers together tightly. Cliopher looked from their clasped hands up to Tor's face—met his glittering, golden eyes, felt the magic sing between them in a perfect harmony of recognition and rightness.

Cliopher missed the next few moments as his thoughts swirled with wonder—of this moment, of this day, of the way his lord, his Tor was reaching out to his family in ways that the Sun-on-Earth never did. Never could. Cliopher didn't think he could love Tor more, but…

When Cliopher came back to himself, he was sitting on his battered old couch in his comfortable sitting room, Tor pressed comfortably into his side, their hands still comfortably linked together.

His sister Vinye and his cousins Quintus and Zemius sat in the couch’s companion chairs, the other family members having disappeared somewhere—perhaps for rest, or naps, or further exploring. Ludvic and Rhodin stood at the door to the sitting room, no less casual in appearance but with decidedly unprofessional expressions on their faces. The commander's eyes were practically soft, the spymaster's full of curiosity and assessment.

There was a quiet murmur as Tor and the others spoke, but Cliopher didn't let their words sink in. Not yet. He simply basked in such an utterly comfortable, utterly impossible moment. He couldn't begin to imagine what anyone might say if they peeked into his sitting room right now–if they saw the Sun-on-Earth so at ease. If Tor wasn't wearing white and gold and imperial yellow, would anyone even recognize him as the Last Emperor of Astandalas?

In a sudden burst of clarity, Cliopher decided that perhaps his lord’s heart attack hadn't been a bad thing—not, not when it had led Tor to this.

Chapter Text

Cliopher was awake, bathed, and dressed two hours before dawn. Even after the extraordinarily late night, finding sleep had proved elusive. Anxiety and a growing feeling of dread from Tor kept Cliopher's heart beating too fast, too harsh, and too loud in his ears to do more than doze.

When he made it into the dining room in search of coffee, he found he wasn't the only one awake. His mother sat at the table, her hands curled tight around a porcelain cup. She seemed intensely contemplative—her face a study in concern, her lips pressed to a thin, worried line.

It wasn't until he pulled out the chair next to her and said, "Good morning, Mama," that she startled out of her reverie and looked up.

"Oh Kip," she said softly. “I didn’t hear you come in. Good…morning.”

"Have you been up all night?" he asked, frowning at the dark smudges under her eyes, the deep wrinkles on her forehead.

"I couldn't sleep.”

He set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once before letting go to slide into the chair at her side. "I'll be fine, Mama. I promise."

She shook her head. "I owe you an apology, Kip."

"You don't."

"I do,” she said, words a soft sigh. “I can't say I understand everything you do here, or how you handle this…this place. I wish you were safe, at home–" She trailed off, staring down at the cup in her hands. "I wish you wanted all that I have ever wanted for you.”

Cliopher heard the pain in her voice. He tried to swallow his own grief at her words. Everyone had always told him to come home, come home, come home—but when he finally had, they hadn't wanted him. He bit his lips closed. Listen first. His mother had something to say, even if he didn't want to hear it.

"But seeing you this past week—" she continued, not noticing his reaction. "—Seeing you yesterday with your lord…I understand more."

She set her cup down, turned his direction and reached for his hands. He let her take them, watching her carefully, cautiously. But all she did was run her thumbs gently over the gold lacing his wrists and hands. "Your father…I've never been able to speak of him much. Not since he died." She frowned, still rubbing his hands. "I'm sorry. I did you a disservice. But the truth is that I loved him so much that talking about him hurt. Even this many years later, thinking of what I lost hurts. Like a part of me got cut out that day."

"Oh, Mama," Kip whispered, heart aching.

He tried to turn his hands to take hers but she squeezed gently until he stilled in her grasp. “I know now, why you stayed," she said. "I didn't see it when you came home with your lord. It was too unexpected, surprising. But this visit, this week, yesterday—I understand why you stayed now."

Her breath stuttered, came out in a sharp hiss. "This bond you're forming scares me, Kip. It terrifies me. To know what it means, what you have to give up, what you'll have to deal with the next few years–" She met his eyes for a long moment, then offered the barest ghost of a smile. "But I can't help but be glad for you, too. To know that you won't ever have to go through what I did. To know that you won't lose each other."

Because if one of them died, they both would. Cliopher ignored the warmth in his cheeks. He studied his mother’s eyes—saw in them an old, old, old grief that he’d never seen before. That he’d never let himself see before. Oh, he'd been so angry when his father had died. He'd lashed out with no care that she'd been hurting as badly—no, worse. Still was, all these many years later.

This time when he moved, his mother let go. He reached forward, wrapping his arms gently, so gently, around her shoulders and drawing her into a careful embrace. It was awkward given they were sitting, but he didn't care. "Oh, Mama," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

She bent her head into his shoulder for a moment, then turned and pressed a soft kiss to cheek. "I do love you, Kip. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I always will. I am sorry I haven't said that."

Tears stung his eyes, threatened to fall. He wanted to promise her that he'd come home but he didn't want to ruin the moment. She wouldn’t believe it; none of his family would, and nothing he could say would likely change that. At least she'd gone this far, opened up, reached out, taken a small step closer. That…meant something.

"Thank you, Mama," he said, meaning it. If this was all the understanding he ever received, it was at least more, far more, than he had ever expected. "Thank you."

 ***

After the unexpected conversation with his mother, Cliopher found parting with the rest of his family much easier–filled less with deeply emotional words and more with long hugs and forehead touches, arm clasps and cheek kisses, and soft brushes of hands against his shoulders and back. He tried to memorize each, to tuck them away into a box he could revisit later when such things would be impossible.

With less than half a bell before dawn, Cliopher began to extricate himself with a soft, "I need to go. I can't be late."

His words set off another round of somewhat frantic goodbyes. Last came his sister Vinye, who wrapped herself around him and held on tight. "I'm going to miss this the next few years," she said softly. "But I'll be writing to your lord to make sure he passes on my hugs to you."

"Vinye, you can't send hugs through the Lord of Rising Stars!"

“Of course, I can,” she said brightly. “I asked your lord the other day when I was there playing for him. He said he'd be more than happy to pass along any hugs that anyone cares to send."

Cliopher's eyes went wide. "My Lord has no idea what he's getting himself into," he managed after a moment, unable to hold back a smirk. "I look forward to seeing his face when he starts getting more letters from the family than I do." He squeezed Vinye tight, then grinned. "I'm going to make him respond to all of you, too."

After another long moment, Vinye sighed. "You’d better go, Kip," she said, patting his back one last time, then letting go and stepping back to stand at their mother’s side. "We'll see you at the ceremony—and, if you can't see us off, we'll see you the next time you visit. Your lord promised that you'd come at least once before his quest."

“I’m going,” Cliopher said, stomach churning anxiously. "Franzel and Gaudy will take–"

"Kip, quit worrying about us," his aunt Oura scolded, shooing him towards the door. "We'll be fine. Go. Worry about yourself and your lord."

"Yes, Aunt Oura," he said reflexively. He drank in one last view of his family—with the exception of Dora who'd been left to sleep—then turned and rushed for the door.

***

Franzel was waiting for him a few rooms away, in Cliopher's office. "We'll take care of them, Sir," his majordomo said, recognizing Cliopher's worry for what it was.

"I know you will, Franzel. It's simply–"

"You're discombobulated. Anyone would be, Sir. But you can trust us to take care of your family." Franzel said, tone full of understanding. “And please, Sir. Allow Lord Conju to take care of you."

"I'll be fine."

Cliopher’s majordomo gave him a look that would make Vinye proud. "The next few days—few weeks—will be extraordinarily difficult for you, Sir. Let Lord Conju help. If not for your own sake, then for His."

Cliopher didn't even need to focus to feel Tor's roiling anxiety. He nodded firmly. "I will try my best."

Before Franzel could bow, Cliopher seized his arms in the Astandalan greeting and squeezed once before letting go. "Thank you, Franzel. You are a wonder. All of you are." He met his majordomo's eyes, trying to convey his appreciation. "I am glad you've been with me—and more, that you're so willing to continue on this journey with me despite—"

Franzel's eyes went wide with wonder, surprise, embarrassment. "Lord Mdang, it is truly my pleasure—our pleasure." His majordomo bowed deeply. "Supporting you while you and his Radiancy change the world is a gift. A joy. It will continue to be so."

Cliopher’s cheeks warmed. "I will see you after then."

"Yes, Sir. And if you need anything beyond what we've already sent up to the Imperial Apartments—"

"I'll send a note. But I can’t imagine that you and Conju haven’t thought of everything."

Cliopher knew he had to leave, but he couldn't seem to move. Franzel could obviously tell. "I should go prepare more coffee. I doubt your family will sleep any more this morning." His majordomo offered a small smile, bowed one more time, then turned to put words to action.

Once Franzel was gone, Cliopher drew in a long, stuttering breath. "I can do this," he whispered almost inaudibly to the office he knew he wouldn't be seeing for several weeks at the earliest. The next time he was in his office, everything would be different. He'd be different. Even now, he could only barely comprehend the work that would be required for him to live with the taboos over the next few years. The fortune that would be spent to purify everything in his rooms, and more—the dishes he used, the food he ate. The more Cliopher thought of it, the more he shuddered at the sheer level of work and expense involved.

But then he thought of his lord, his Tor, who’d been dealing with the taboos alone for a thousand years. Taboos that had been a thousand times a thousand times worse in the years before the Fall. The extra cost, the extra burden was well worth it to ensure that Tor wasn’t left alone again.

No matter how difficult it was, Cliopher knew that Tor would help him, that they’d help each other—that they’d be stronger together.

***

He made it to the Imperial Apartments with twenty minutes to spare before dawn. Not much time, but not late by any means either. The guards greeted him as had become their custom—with no challenge, no concern, and full belief that Cliopher had every right to be there. For a little while at least, he technically would. That thought made his hands tremble anew, even as he proceeded quickly through the anterooms.

Cliopher stepped into his lord's study to find his Radiancy already there, already pacing. Ludvic and Rhodin stood as his innermost guards, while Conju hovered in front of the ivory door.

The Sun-on-Earth stopped mid-stride, turning to meet Cliopher nervously, uncertainly, anxiously. Surprise washed through Cliopher, raising the question of how much his lord had doubted that he'd go through with this.

Too much. Cliopher hurried across the room to take Tor's hands. "I would not have left, my lord," he said simply, low enough that no one else would hear.

Tor smiled, his emotions easing into amazed wonder. "I do know you, my dear Kip. And yet, it is still difficult to believe that you would do this."

"Three days and you won't ever have to doubt again." Cliopher squeezed Tor's hands. "And you won't have to trust my words either."

Tor's eyes brightened a fraction. "I expect it will be a unique experience, sharing your emotions."

Cliopher's stomach clenched at the thought of being so deeply known. "I admit to feeling a bit disconcerted about it," he said honestly. "But I expect you will find it…eye opening."

"My dear Kip," Tor said, seeing right to the heart of Cliopher’s words even without a unique sense of them. "You know what I think of you. Being able to feel you won't change that."

Cliopher could only hope, but now wasn't the time to voice his uncertainty. "As you said, it is difficult to believe, my lord."

Tor frowned. "Then we'll just have to prove it to each other,” he said finally. After a short pause, he tugged his hands from Cliopher’s grasp and gestured to Ludvic, and Rhodin, and Conju. "Your dearest friends wanted to be here for you—to support the first steps of this journey. The hardest steps. Once the purification rituals start, you won't be able to…" his voice trailed off. Cliopher felt his regret—so clear, so sharp, so prickly.

"You won't be able to touch anyone but his Radiancy," Conju said quietly, matter-of-factly.

"Oh.” Cliopher glanced down at his hands, then at his friends, then at Tor.

"You won't have another chance until the taboos come down, my dear Kip. Don't hesitate now," Tor said, pushing him gently towards Conju.

Conju met Cliopher halfway. They took each other's arms in the Astandalan greeting, and then Cliopher pulled his friend into a quick embrace. "Thank you, Conju."

His friend let out an anxious huff. "I have done little enough, Cliopher, but I promise that I will do everything I can to help make this transition easier for you. To support you, even as I support his Radiancy."

Cliopher nodded gratefully, throat clogged with emotion. He appreciated the intent of his friend's words, much as he disliked the idea of them. He was the one people relied on; surely, he wouldn't need so much support. Surely.

Anxiety twisting in his stomach—his own this time, he was almost certain—Cliopher turned to Rhodin and exchanged quick arm clasps. The spymaster stared at him intently as if trying to convey a message, but Cliopher had no idea what the message might be. "Thank you, Rhodin."

His friend nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll need to show you the hidden passages in more detail," he said gravely. "You never know when you might need them."

Cliopher’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected comment, but Rhodin had always had a unique sense of dangers and threats. "I look forward to it."

Rhodin offered a perfect salute, then stepped back to the door so Ludvic could come forward. The commander seemed anxious but hopeful, nervous yet relieved. He took Cliopher's arms gently, pressed their foreheads together. "Take care of Him, Cliopher. Let him take care of you. We'll watch over you both.”

Wetness gathered in Cliopher's eyes. That Ludvic had paid enough attention to know the islander greeting caused his heart to ache fiercely. He blinked hard. "Thank you, Ludvic," he said under his breath, before stepping back so he could see all of his friends at once. He took a shuddering breath, tried to smile. "This will be strange, and difficult, and odd. I am only glad that I don't have to face it alone."

He reached out to Tor to find his lord already reaching for him. Cliopher sighed softly as Tor's beautiful fingers tightened around his own, a rock holding fast so he wouldn't slip away.

Tor smiled at him sadly, before shifting his gaze to the others. "Kip will have no choice but to grow accustomed to the changes the next few days will bring. The distance both required by the taboos and granted as a result of our connection." Tor's concern for Cliopher was clear and bright and worrisome. "But you have been his friends for many years. While I would wish the world at large to see our bond for what it is, I hope that none of you will forget that he's still your Cliopher. I will not be offended should you relax protocol in our presence—should you, within the boundaries allowed by the taboos, continue to act in the name of your friendship."

Cliopher felt his lord's appreciation, wistfulness, regret. Tor had never been allowed friends, never allowed family. Cliopher's family had cracked open one door quite unexpectedly, but they'd soon be gone. He thought Ludvic, Rhodin, and Conju considered his Radiancy a friend—as much as anyone could be friends with the Sun-on-Earth that is—but perhaps Cliopher could bridge that gap further, make those perceived friendships stronger, more real.

"Thank you, my lord," Ludvic said, and Cliopher thought there was both appreciation and awareness in the commander's tone. "We will do our best."

A knock sounded from the outer door, breaking the solemnity of the moment. His Radiancy glanced towards the window where the visible sky was showing hints of the sunrise to come. "That will be the high priests," he said. "Are you ready, my dear Kip?"

Cliopher drew in a long breath, released it slowly. "I'm not sure I could ever be ready, my lord, but I am as prepared as I can be."

Tor tightened his hand around Cliopher's. "Then Ludvic, if you would?"

***

The first purification ritual was long and incredibly boring.

Outside of almost dying, Cliopher had not had much cause to interact with the priest-wizards on anything but policies or budgets. His knowledge of the rites and ceremonies of Schooled magic was incredibly scant. Becoming the focus of them didn't make his interest grow in the slightest.

After a complex diagram was made with salt in the corner of his Radiancy's office designed for such rituals, the high priests directed Cliopher and encouraged his Radiancy into different positions within the diagram. From there, the priest-wizards lit sticks of incense, wafting it intentionally around and between them, and requesting them to breathe it in deeply. The high priests chanted for ages as well, not that Cliopher understood anything of their words.

Cliopher couldn't feel much of the high priests’ magic, but each time he raised his eyes to Tor's brilliantly gold ones, the resonance between them practically sang. His lord's emotions were locked surprisingly tight, not giving much away beyond a strong sense of necessary endurance. Whatever the high priests were doing wasn't simply for show then, nor was it something his Radiancy appreciated. Cliopher held in a sigh, knowing this was only the beginning. He focused on finding stillness, like his Buro Tovo had once taught him so long ago and so very far away.

Some time later—well after the dawn had come and gone and the sky beyond the window was bright with the day—one of the high priests broke into Cliopher's stillness. "The ritual is complete, Glorious One, Lord Mdang. You may step away now."

Cliopher was glad for the release, stepping quickly but carefully over the lines of salt and across the study towards his desk—well, not his desk anymore, much as he continued to think of it as so. He worked to unobtrusively shake out his numb legs, gritting his teeth as one prickled intensely. Once he finally felt stable, he turned to check his lord's reaction. Tor stood at his own desk, hands pressed against the fine wood, as if simply catching his breath. His face was stone: the Serene and Glorious One to anyone who wasn't Cliopher.

To Cliopher, his lord's sense of disorientation cut strongly. No longer locked away by the ritual or intent, Tor's emotions became intensely, terribly clear. While endurance and commitment remained strong, Cliopher shuddered at the sensation of rawness, wrongness, exhaustion. Cliopher sagged under the weight of it, but when he looked at his lord, there was nothing but a hint of a smile on Tor’s face.

"Thank you," his Radiancy said to the high priests, managing to look grateful despite feeling anything but. "We shall see you at noon?"

"Yes, Glorious One," the wizard-priests answered in tandem. The high priests gave Cliopher a low bow, made the appropriate obeisances to his Radiancy, then departed.

"Well, that's done with for a couple of hours," Tor said, leaning more heavily against his desk. “Are you all right, my dear Kip?”

"It wasn't so bad for me, my lord," Cliopher admitted. "Boring, but far less difficult than a Council of Princes meeting. I'm only sorry it was so awful for you."

"Schooled magic doesn't fully agree with me, but I'm well used to it," Tor said, waving Cliopher's concerns away. "While I would wish it otherwise, my dear Kip, you should be aware that the rituals will get harder for you."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"These first rituals are intended to purify you of any incidental magic that has clung to you over the course of your life—at least, any incidental magic that I myself have not been responsible for. They are quite passive, far less intense than the rituals that would be required to purify you of my magic. Since you don't have magic yourself, you shouldn't feel anything from them." Tor paused, his emotions churning fretfully. "Once that's done, the next step will be to convince the tapestry of Schooled magic to recognize us as two parts of the same whole.”

Two parts of the same whole. Fanoa. Magical fanoa. Cliopher couldn't help but grin at the thought.

"It won't be as easy as it sounds," his lord cautioned, seeing Cliopher’s interest. "I will need to pour a significant amount of magic into you."

"I feel your magic each time we meet eyes, my lord," Cliopher said, moving to do exactly that. The sparkling magic surged between them for a long moment, easily making his point.

Tor broke the connection, smiling ruefully. "It won’t be the same, my dear Kip. You won’t simply feel ripples of my magic; it’ll stick with you, in you. It'll feel like quite an imposition I expect, quite foreign, particularly since you don't have any magic yourself. I’m not sure how you’ll react—but it’s the only way to make this work.” He frowned intensely, uncertainly. “This process would be much simpler if we forged the wild magic bond first, but I agree that ending with the bond would be much more positive, much more hopeful than the reverse. I hope it will also help soothe the feeling of the bindings falling over you.”

Cliopher knew Tor would insist they form the wild magic bond first if he showed any concern whatsoever, knew that was in no way an option—not given the high priests’ warning. He’d deal with whatever the side effects were and be grateful. He pushed confidence into a brilliant smile. “I’m sure it will be fine, my lord,” he said firmly. “But consider me fair warned.”

"Only you wouldn't worry about something like this, my dear Kip." Tor sighed fondly. "Now, before we are needed for the next round, perhaps Conju can show you to the rooms he's prepared for you?"

"I'd be glad to, my lord," Conju said, with a low bow. "Then, perhaps a bite to eat before the noon ritual?"

"Yes, thank you Conju."

Conju opened the ivory door. “Come along, Cliopher.”

Cliopher looked at Conju, then glanced back at Tor. His lord had walked to the balcony door and was peering through the glass at the bright day; his spine was straight, his hands clasped behind his back. There was nothing to say that he was anything but serene, but his emotions held a tenor of longing, as if he wanted…

Cliopher swallowed audibly, uncertain. But he knew what Tor wanted. He knew it. "Won't you come with us, Tor?" he asked softly. He thought it would feel strange using his lord's name in this room, this glittering study where they'd worked together from steps apart, never going further than meeting each other's eyes, for centuries. But it didn't. It simply felt right.

Tor looked back, eyes slightly wide. "I don't want you to feel…more imposed on than is necessary while you're here, my dear Kip,” he said slowly. “I know this is strange for you. I would not wish to intrude on your space."

Cliopher felt the pit of worry gnawing at Tor's heart—needed to do something to alleviate it. "You’ve said I can’t touch anyone else during these rituals, but can we…?"

At his lord's hesitant nod, Cliopher crossed the study and seized Tor's hand, twining their fingers together as Tor had done earlier. With anyone else, Cliopher might have simply tugged them along with him, but he wasn't ready to do such a thing, not here, not to the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Last Emperor of Astandalas. Instead, he stood very still, gripping Tor’s hand fiercely but not forcefully. "My…Tor, any place I go would be better with you in it. Unless you have something that you need to do, or would prefer to—"

"I don’t,” Tor said—so quickly that Cliopher couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

"Then come with us.” Taking Tor’s willingness as permission, Cliopher tugged his arm gently. “Come with me."

***

They went through the ivory door together. "The magic is in flux around you or I'd make it so you could open the door directly," Tor said apologetically. "Once Zunidh and Schooled magic see us as one, you'll be able to go anywhere, do anything."

Because, Cliopher realized, Tor could do that now. No door in the Palace of Stars was barred to the Last Emperor of Astandalas—and soon, magically at least, they'd be one and the same. Cliopher let out a harsh breath. If someone wanted access to anything, all they'd need to do was get a hold of him—and he didn't have Tor's magic to protect himself.

He wondered if Ludvic had considered the risk—knew his friend must have. The Commander of the Imperial Guard had his job for a reason, after all. Cliopher glanced back to where Ludvic and Rhodin were walking a few steps behind. Despite being deep in the Imperial Apartments, Ludvic was carefully surveying their surroundings, but he easily caught Cliopher's look of concern. "After the ceremony, your security will almost mirror his Radiancy's, Cliopher. Now you understand why."

Cliopher sighed, but knew he wouldn't win this argument. Knew he shouldn't—not given the immense risk.

"Come on, Cliopher," Conju called softly, standing at a hallway that branched off in front of his Radiancy's bedchamber—a hallway Cliopher was certain hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited.

"Is this new?” he asked. “I’m sure I’ve never seen it before.”

Conju smiled. "You wouldn’t have. All the interior hallways in the Imperial Apartments except the entryway are usually hidden by magic."

"But then…?"

"You need to be able to get around," Tor said firmly. "Like the ivory door, once our bond is complete, you'll be able to see everything, even with the protections fully in place. But for the next few days, the magical safeguards have been lowered."

Before Cliopher could voice any concern, Ludvic added, "I've already posted several extra pairs of guards, Cliopher. Given the short duration, the added risk is minimal, but I knew you'd worry otherwise."

Cliopher swallowed audibly at the consideration. “Thank you, Ludvic.”

“It’s my job, Cliopher,” Ludvic said simply, but the corners of his lips turned up slightly.

In front of them, Conju had stopped in front of the first door along the no-longer-hidden corridor. “Here you are, Cliopher,” Conju said, opening the door and giving a half-bow.

When Cliopher would have stepped back to let his lord lead the way, Tor gestured him ahead. "It's your room, Cliopher."

***

At first glance, the room was only slightly larger than his own in the Lord of Zunidh's apartments. It had an Alinorel style bed centered along one wall, substantially bigger than his own, with elegant curtains that had been drawn back and tied. The walls of the room were not yellow or white, which he would have expected given the location, but rather blue-green, almost turquoise. The bedding and bed curtains matched the walls almost perfectly, with several pillows cased in white, reminding him of sea foam. Windows lined one wall, framed by open shutters and sheer white curtains. A small table with two comfortable looking chairs sat near the window, across from a bookcase already full of books.

All in all, the room felt remarkably warm, and pleasant, and welcoming—not austere like his Radiancy’s elegant yet impersonal bedchamber. Almost like someone had tried to recreate the feel of Navikiani.

Oh. His eyes turned to Tor. "Did you decorate this for me?”

He knew he was right, even as Tor said, "Conju did most of the work of course—and Lady Ylette. I merely suggested the colours."

"It's lovely.” Cliopher smiled fondly, warmth bursting through his chest at the thought of how much care had obviously gone into the effort. "It reminds me of Navikiani.”

Tor smiled back, emotions surging with agreement, pleasure, love. "I am glad you like it," he said, almost shy. "Given all that's happening and the fact you'll be staying for quite a while, I wanted you to have a place that you would like. That you might enjoy."

"I do. And I’m certain I will. Thank you.” Cliopher turned to Conju. “Thank you both.” 

"It was fun, Cliopher,” Conju assured him, before stepping across the room. “Now, look: your dressing and bathing rooms are through here." His friend slid open a door next to the head of the bed, revealing a bright dressing room—with large mirrors, polished wood cabinets, and an impressive amount of space. Even with what looked like most of his wardrobe already tucked within, the room seemed quite empty. He tried to imagine any situation where it might be full and came up short.

The bathing room beyond was also impressive, with a bath easily large enough to fit several people. "It's lovely," Cliopher said, repeating his earlier words—amazed, but also somewhat amused that they thought he needed so much.

As the bells rang the hour, Tor sighed. "I must go deal with some necessities," he said, tone soft and regretful. "Why don't you settle in, my dear Kip, and see if there's anything Franzel or Conju forgot? We can meet at the half-bell to eat before the next ritual."

Cliopher nodded, bringing his eyes up to meet Tor’s, welcoming the brilliant burst of resonating magic. "Thank-you, my…Tor. I couldn’t imagine a room more beautiful." Tor grinned, effervescent as though he'd never before received such a compliment.

Perhaps he hadn’t, Cliopher realized.

***

The rest of the day's purification rituals were as long and as boring as the first—at least for Cliopher. Tor wasn’t as fortunate. Cliopher noticed that his lord got more tired with each repetition, his magic less energetic, less enthusiastic each time they met eyes. That said, by the end of the midnight ritual, Cliopher was more than exhausted too—his legs stiff from so much standing, his lungs achy from breathing so much incense. Even his nose was incredibly dry and sore. He tumbled into bed with barely a thought.

The second day was much the same—the dawn, noon, and sunset rituals near identical to those conducted the first day. But in between, something new. Baths. So many baths. He didn’t mind those; the oils in the water were soothing, calming, comforting. There were tonics too, their tang only slightly bitter, easily forgettable.

***

At midnight the second day, the ritual changed.

Cliopher arrived in the study with a few minutes to spare, finding the high priests and Tor in deep conversation.

“Ah, Lord Mdang,” one of the priests said, offering a low bow. “We have been speaking of the next phase of the rituals. Now that you’ve been cleansed of all incidental magic, we must begin forging your connection to the tapestry of Schooled magic so that it will see you and the Glorious One as one."

Cliopher stifled a yawn, glanced over at Tor. "This is what you warned me about yesterday?"

His lord nodded, anxious, concerned, worried. "Each time we've touched, I've left my magic on you, but it's only been the…the lightest dusting, despite the visible marks. Enough to cause chaotic ripples of Schooled and wild magic, but not enough to anchor us together."

"So, you need to put more magic in me?"

"Yes. And as I do that, the high priests will work on anchoring the connection between us, tying us together in the eyes of Schooled magic.” Tor let out a fretful breath. “It’s not as simple as forging the wild magic bond because of the residual bindings. It will take time, an immense amount of my magic—and, as I mentioned before, it likely won’t be particularly comfortable for you.”

Cliopher tried to wrap his mind around the seemingly simple yet hard to comprehend explanation, but in the end, he simply nodded in agreement. This was what had to happen to protect Tor. He held the fire. He wasn’t afraid of its burn. "What do you need me to do?"

As Tor's anxiety swelled, Cliopher followed the high priests' directions, standing in the same place that he had for the previous rituals. A few minutes later, his lord took his same place as well, but this time he stretched his hands across the salt lines to take hold of Cliopher’s forearms. Tor’s beautiful fingers covered the first gold marks he’d left on Cliopher’s skin.

As Cliopher watched, Tor took several deep breaths, then glanced over at the high priests—one standing east, one standing west. Both priest-wizards held burning incense. Cliopher tried not to wrinkle his nose.

“Are you ready, my dear Kip?” Tor asked, his concern burning stronger than the incense.

He took his own deep breath, tried to channel his lord at his most serene. He nodded firmly, ignoring the quiver of nervousness running through his chest.

Tor tightened his grip gently but firmly on Cliopher’s arms, then raised his head to meet Cliopher’s eyes. Magic flared between them, resonating through Cliopher with brilliance, awareness, recognition. He basked in it for a long moment, feeling Tor's focus and concentration, before the magic surged across their connection, burning through his blood, through his bones, through everything he knew he was.

Cliopher might have gasped, but he couldn't see, or hear, or feel the room around them. Time became endless, nothing but a flood of crackling magic. It might have been dreadful, unnerving, terrifying, foreign, except it was inarguably Tor's magic and nothing about that could be wrong, no matter how much it was. His mind went to the moment he’d once almost drowned. Clung to that memory, a rock holding fast, knowing he’d survived—would survive.

Some time later, forever later, the surging tide of Tor’s magic ebbed, rolled out—leaving Cliopher storm-tossed and weary, yet fizzing with magic. A tidepool left behind in the sand after the ocean pulled away.

"My dear Kip," Tor said softly, words echoing in ears Cliopher had forgotten that he had. "It's over for now."

Cliopher blinked, came back to himself to find Tor watching him intently, worriedly, not quite meeting his eyes. "Cliopher? Kip? Are you well?"

"I'm fine, my lord," Cliopher said without thinking.

“Of course, you are, my dear Kip.” Tor huffed softly—amused, disbelieving. “Of course, you are.”

Knowing Tor was concerned, Cliopher tried to explain.  "It’s odd, strange, so strange, but its just, just…" He couldn’t find the words, trailed off.

"Perhaps Lord Mdang would benefit from resting before the next ritual, Glorious One,” one of the high priests suggested. “The sense of discombobulation is only likely to get stronger.”

Tor sighed. "Very well. Thank you, high priests. We shall see you at dawn.”

And then Tor, his Radiancy—he was far more radiant to Cliopher’s senses now than he’d ever been before—took his arm and helped him to cross the lines of salt, cross the floor of the study towards the ivory door. Someone else opened that; Cliopher didn’t know who. He thought he should ache, but Tor’s echoing magic and twisting concern were impossible to ignore, subsuming physical sensation.

Warm hands, Tor's hands, guided him through the Imperial Apartments and into the room he already considered his.

"Is Cliopher well, my lord?"

The voice was one Cliopher knew he should know. His thoughts stirred. He flicked his eyes up, caught sight of a beautifully garbed man standing in the doorway. Conju—the name swam to him slowly. "'m fine," he mumbled, as Tor guided him to the bed, helped him on to it. "Jus' strange."

Tor’s magic felt heavy on his skin, in his bones. It pressed down on him like a heavy blanket: a comfortable, comforting blanket. Cliopher managed to pull off his over-robe. Where it went from there, he didn’t know, didn’t care. The next thing he knew he was staring at the ceiling and his eyes were closing.

Quiet, anxious words filled his ears, ached in his chest. "Rest, my dear Kip. Rest.”

***

The third day passed in a blur, like time after the Fall—both quick and forever. The scent of incense burned in his nose, in his throat. Chanting filled his ears.  Magic flooded his blood, his bones, his being.

There were baths, someone’s hands—Tor’s hands, for they couldn’t be anyone else’s—holding him up, supporting him so he didn’t float away.

Kind hands, careful hands, feeding him bite by bite, holding cups to his lips so he’d remember to drink.

He knew he should be uncomfortable, self-conscious, embarrassed at the way Tor’s magic made him dizzy and dazed and only half-there—but he knew he was safe. Knew Tor was there. As muddled as he was, he recognized Tor’s concern, tenderness, love.

***

The day of the ceremony arrived like a light breeze, with a soft knock on the door and a murmured, "Cliopher?"

Cliopher must have said something, or at least made some sort of sound, as the door opened. It took way too long to focus on the person hovering in the doorway—Tor’s magic tumbling within him too distracting, constantly drawing his attention. Finally, his eyes settled on a face. "Conju?"

"Cliopher,” his friend said, noticeably relieved. “How are you feeling?"

"Muddled,” he managed. He could smell Conju’s perfumes from across the room, taste them on his tongue: sharp and sweet and floral. He could hear footfalls from the hallway as someone passed in front of the door. He could feel the fizz of Tor’s magic dancing over him, through him, within him. Too much. Too bright. Too strange. Too loud.

"That’s to be expected," Conju said softly. "His Radiancy says it will pass once the ceremony is over. Will you let me help you get ready?"

"Can you?" Cliopher thought to ask. It had been Tor who’d helped him through the ceremonies—gently, carefully, kindly. He remembered that, much as the details blurred together like watercolours. If Conju could have helped him, wouldn’t he have helped then? He blinked, trying to understand, trying to navigate the magic-muddled waters of his mind.

Conju frowned. "Not as I would like. Unless you wish to go through this all again, I can't touch you. No one can."

"Ah," Cliopher said, not quite sadly, his mind too fuzzy to free his emotions.

"But I can guide you, Cliopher. Help as I may.” Conju let out a soft chuckle. “I do have practice, you know.”

Of course, Conju did. He had spent near a thousand years attending his Radiancy. Never once touching. Never once even coming close. Cliopher nodded his assent, knowing he’d never manage himself. 

"First, a bath," Conju instructed. "Let me go get it ready."

"It might take me that long to stand," Cliopher admitted, moving to sit up.

His friend let out a soft huff of concern. "Wait for me to come back.”

Cliopher waited. Forgot what he was waiting for until Conju returned and prompted him to rise. He staggered out of the bed and into the bathing chamber. The scent of the bath oils was strong, but pleasant—vanilla and bergamot and rose.

With Conju offering soft instructions and calling him back whenever the feel of Tor’s magic distracted him, Cliopher managed to wash and then slide into the bath. The water’s heat soaked through him, seeped into him until he realized he'd been cold and wasn’t anymore. He let out a soft sigh, relaxing against the curved back of the bath, shut his eyes and felt for Tor. Despite all of Tor’s magic, Cliopher couldn’t feel, couldn’t sense…

"Tor?" he near shouted, splashing water everywhere as he stood, panic rising like a wave. "Conju, I can't—I can’t feel him. I can't find him. His magic’s too strong. It’s blocking everything."

"Breathe Cliopher,” Conju ordered sharply, backing away from the bath hurriedly, hands raised. “His Radiancy is fine. He’s fine. I just left him a few minutes ago. You’ll see him at the ceremony. It won’t be long now.”

Cliopher leaned against the cool tiles of the bath, gasping for breath. “Are you certain?” he asked, plaintively.

“He’s doing much better than you are at this moment, Cliopher. He doesn’t have someone else’s magic running rampant through him,” Conju said, words calm and reassuring. “He’d be here now if he didn’t also need to get ready for the ceremony. You’ve seen his court costumes. They aren’t something that can be thrown on in a few minutes.”

Cliopher sagged against the tiles. No, his lord’s court costumes weren’t. "You don't need to help him?”

Conju smiled softly, fondly. “There are other attendants more than capable of helping his Radiancy get ready, Cliopher. He wanted me here to help you.”

Warmth surged in Cliopher’s chest, Tor’s magic surging along with it. He pressed his hands against the cool tiles, breathing carefully, slowly, deeply. Some time later—not so long that Conju had to call him back—Tor’s magic settled down.

When Cliopher opened his eyes, Conju held a towel out. Cliopher took it carefully, keeping his hands well away from his friend’s. He began towelling himself dry, fingers trembling. The gold marks on his hands and arms glistened, almost glowed.

"Come now, Cliopher,” Conju said, breaking his reverie. “Lady Ylette has done a wonder on your court costume."

Recognizing the polite nudge, Cliopher finished drying himself off, then followed his friend into the dressing room. Conju carefully offered him a linen tunic and a pair of trousers, then waved towards a chair that had been positioned away from the mirrors. "Put those on, Cliopher. Sit down if you need to.”

Cliopher did, not wanting to fall over. He pulled on the tunic, then the trousers. Both were white, soft, and delightful against his skin. Once he finished doing up the trousers, he leaned back in the chair, shutting his eyes so he didn’t need to look at the rack of bright clothing Conju was fiddling with. He was certain he didn’t want to know. He focused on Tor’s magic fizzing in his chest, under his skin. He thought he should feel exhausted after several long days, so many rituals, and so much magic. Instead, he felt effervescent, and dizzy, and dazed.

"May I help you with the rest, Cliopher?" Conju asked, calling Cliopher back to himself.

"Please," Cliopher said. Another day, he might be embarrassed; today, he could only be glad for his friend’s assistance.

“Come. Stand over here.” Conju beckoned to an empty space in front of the mirrors. Cliopher appreciated the straightforward orders. Was glad to follow them, to put himself in Conju’s hands so he didn’t need to think too hard about why he needed the help—or of what was coming next. His mind skittered away from that thought, glad for the well of Tor’s magic buffering him from reality. Without it, he expected that he’d be far more distressed. 

"All you need to do is follow my instructions, Cliopher," his friend said. "I'll talk you through everything. Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden movements. Warn me if you need to stretch, or move, or do anything.”

“Yes,” Cliopher said, stilling, grounding himself in place.

"First, the under robe. Hold your arms out.” Cliopher did as requested, watching as Conju deftly navigated him into the white silk under robe with intricate gold embroidery running along each seam and cuff, then walked behind him to connect the fastenings.

Cliopher lost track of the rest—of the many layers of silk, ahalo cloth, foamwork, cloth of gold—until the last: a mantle of midnight blue, speckled with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny gems—each shimmering with a spectacular inner fire. "Oh,” he said, mesmerized.

Conju smiled at his obvious astonishment. "Ylette found a small chest of those when she was down in the treasury. No one could identify them or even say where they came from. His Radiancy said there could be no jewels more fitting for your court costume.”

Cliopher let out a pained hiss. Everything in the treasury was supposed to be accounted for. He had teams conduct an inventory every five years to make sure nothing got up and walked away. Nothing should have been able to make it into the treasury either, not without several layers of paperwork being completed. “We’ll need to delve into their origin,” he said absentmindedly, running a finger over the mantle, staring at the flame-like jewels. If he were at home, he’d believe these were a symbol, proof that he held his family dances. But he wasn’t—and they weren’t. They couldn’t be.

He’d never claimed the fire, not properly. Never claimed Aoteketetana outside of that one time when he’d been asked the three questions by the old efelauni at the market on Lesuia Island. The one who’d given him a string of forty-nine amber-ringed cowries in exchange for a glorious promise to bring home the hearth-fire of a new life for the world. And he would, he promised again, eyes caught by the flames dancing in the heart of the jewels. He would. His bond with Tor might change things, a lot of things, but it would not change that.

“His Radiancy knew you’d be concerned,” Conju said, his eyes bright with good humour. “He said you are more than welcome to investigate to your heart’s content, but that they’re yours now.”

Cliopher decided it wasn’t the time to argue. There’d be time enough for that later. He looked away from the jewels, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He froze, caught by his own reflection. He barely recognized himself.  He looked…the only word his mind supplied was radiant. The mere thought had to be treasonous. He shivered. If he was dressed so richly, he could only imagine what his Radiancy must be wearing. There was no way that Lady Ylette would have dressed Cliopher like this if she didn’t also have something extraordinary planned for Tor.

"Is there a hat?" he asked, distracting himself. He wondered at his almost clear head. Had the thought of inventories and audits subdued even Tor’s magic for a few moments?

"No," Conju said simply. "There are sandals under the chair, however. Do you need me to get them?”

Cliopher shook his head, then ducked down to carefully pull the sandals out from under the chair while he didn’t feel quite so topsy-turvy. He slid his feet into them, then sat down to do up the gold and electrum fastenings. Better to not take too many chances.

When Cliopher stood again, Conju’s face broke out into a large smile. "You look magnificent, Cliopher. I expect you don't want any makeup?" Cliopher shuddered at the thought. His friend laughed. “Of course, you don’t—why did I even ask? But since that is the case, Cliopher, I believe you are as ready as we can make you.”

***

Conju chivvied Cliopher back into the bedroom, saying, "There’s still some time. I know you haven't eaten much the last couple of days. You should take a moment to have something now if you feel up to it."

Cliopher’s stomach twisted painfully. “No, I—I can't.”

“Are you sure?” Conju asked. “This will be your last chance before…”

Cliopher wanted desperately to say yes, to have a bowl of berries or even a last orange, but he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stomach either. He shook his head.

"Then, a cup of coffee? It will be a very long day.”

“I’ll try,” Cliopher agreed, deciding he could manage a few sips if it made Conju happy.

“Have a seat then. I’ll be right back,” Conju told him, hurrying towards the door.

Cliopher followed the instruction, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the chairs by the window to wait. He glanced outside. The sky was bright and blue and crystal clear. It was well after dawn, he realized. How had it taken so long to get ready?

Staring out at the cloudless azure sky, Tor’s magic bubbled up again, cresting through his chest. He shut his eyes, feeling for Tor reflexively. There was nothing there, nothing beyond the resonant well of Tor’s magic—beautiful, brilliant, but not what he wanted. Not what he needed. How could he so desperately miss something he should never have had in the first place? But he did. Oh, he did.

He sat there for long moments, long minutes, until Conju returned with a cup of coffee on an elegant tea tray. “Here you are, Cliopher,” his friend said, holding the tray out.

It took Cliopher a few seconds to find his words. “Thank you,” he finally managed, taking the cup from the tray and cradling it in his hands. He forced himself to take a long sip. The coffee was rich and strong and warming. He took another, shorter, sip—then a third, before he had to set the cup on the table. His hands trembled.

“How long?” he asked, glancing up at Conju—hovering nervously, anxiously, worriedly, tray clasped tightly to his chest.

“Not long.”

***

Much to Cliopher’s surprise, it was Ludvic and Rhodin who arrived to escort him to the throne room. The two guards wore their full panoply—fine white linen kilts, ostrich-feather headdresses, leopard skin pelts, gold and jewels, ebony spears with their sharp heads tipped in gold.

When they stepped into the room, Ludvic and Rhodin—no, Commander Omo and Ser Rhodin—offered Cliopher perfect salutes. Cliopher tried not to choke. “Shouldn’t you be with his Radiancy?” he asked, breathless.

“He wanted us to stand with you,” Commander Omo said simply. “Pikabe and Ato are standing with him.”

Cliopher tried to smile appreciatively—didn’t quite manage it. His entire body shuddered. He desperately wanted to still his trembling hands, but he knew that he couldn’t grasp his thighs or knot his fingers into the cuffs of his sleeves. Lady Ylette would not be impressed if he showed up at the ceremony with even the shadow of a wrinkle anywhere on his unparalleled court costume. He grasped onto the feeling of Tor’s magic instead—vibrant, sparkling, blazing—effervescent. A rush of dizziness surged through him, but at least the trembling stopped.

His friends exchanged anxious glances. “Are you all right, Cliopher?” Conju asked.

Cliopher swallowed audibly. “Fine,” he managed, the word near inaudible. “Fine.”

His friends looked to each other again, but none of them said anything else. Neither did Cliopher. What more was there to say? They all knew this had to happen. Cliopher wanted this to happen. He simply wished he could skip over the part where it actually happened to the part where it was already over.

After a long moment, Ludvic nodded, face calm, almost serene. He and Rhodin saluted again. “Then, Cliopher Lord Mdang,” the Commander of the Imperial Guard said, formally. “It is time.”

***

Cliopher didn't remember anything of the journey out of the Imperial Apartments, or of the long walk to the throne room. He simply found himself standing before one of the two high priests—the one wearing the formal mask representing the Moon—in front of the closed great doors leading to the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars.

He stared at the doors, uncomprehending, eyes tracing over the intricately carved scenes from the life of the First Emperor, Yr the Conqueror. The doors to the throne room were opened rarely—to celebrate the coronations and the funerals of the Emperors of Astandalas. Anyone else, everyone else entered through the two smaller doors, each set to a side of the greater.

Standing before the great doors, wearing a magnificent court costume topped by a mantle of jewels that held their own fire, Cliopher had a stunning realization. This was truly happening. He was about to go into the throne room and forge a near-legendary bond with the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Lord of Zunidh, and the Last Emperor of Astandalas.

With Tor.

His breath caught in his throat. Reality caught in his throat. It was the end of the world as he’d always known it. When he, when they, left the throne room, everything would be different.

Cliopher glanced down at his hands—at the bright, brilliant, almost glowing marks of his lord’s affection. He wouldn’t go back in time if he could. Not now. Not ever. He was a Mdang who held the fire, and he would hold this one.

Seamlessly, soundlessly, the great doors of the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars opened wide.

***

As Cliopher entered through the great doors—open for the first time since the coronation of Artorin Damara, the Hundredth Emperor of Astandalas—he thought he knew what to expect.

He was ready for the throngs of people: the princes, the couriers, the highest ranked within the City of Solaara and the Service.  And somewhere: his household, his friends, his family.

He was ready for the final Schooled magic ritual. Braced—as best he could be—for the moment the taboos would fall. He couldn't see the salt-markings laid out across the floor of the lower dais, but he knew they'd be there.

He was ready for the long walk across the throne room, the high priest representing the Moon leading him sedately forward—their partner representing the Sun waiting on the lower dais, standing in what had been Cliopher's own spot. Aioru's now.

He was ready for the view of the Sun-on-Earth on the upper dais. Serene and benevolent. Glorious. A vision in white and gold and Imperial yellow. As Cliopher crossed the jeweled floor, crossed the swirls of lapis lazuli marking the wide seas of Zunidh, he met his lord's searing gold eyes, trembled as an incredible surge of magic flared between them, soared between them, resonated between them—resonated through every part of him.

He was not ready, not at all, for the Sun-on-Earth to descend from the upper dais to meet him. Froze, in fact, two thirds of the way across the room as the Lord of Rising Stars stood from his throne—the ornate chair whose cushion was changed every single day—and took the steps down to the lower dais.

That move, Cliopher could have managed. It was expected, after all, as both the court ritual and the forging of the wild magic bond would take place on the lower dais. But then, the Sun-on-Earth continued, descended the steps from the lower dais to the floor of the throne room—for the first time since he'd ascended the steps to become Emperor—and began walking towards him, Pikabe and Ato stalwartly following at his back.

Cliopher barely noticed the hushed sounds of near everyone in the room going down into full obeisances. The two high priests—the one leading Cliopher had finished crossing the floor and was now standing on the lower dais with their counterpart—and the members of the Imperial Guard the only exceptions.

Adrift in a sea of brilliant magic, eyes caught, captured, captivated by the Sun-on-Earth walking towards him, Cliopher was completely overcome. He felt the desperate need to fall into the obeisances, but he knew, knew, knew that he couldn't. So, he stood tall, gaze locked on the beautiful lion eyes drawing closer and closer, and became the only person to ever face the Lord of Rising Stars as an equal.

And then, the Sun-on-Earth smiled. No, Tor smiled. His perfect serenity broke as happiness, pleasure, and affection blazed clear on his face. Cliopher saw it even if he couldn't feel anything of Tor’s emotions through the heavy haze of magic. He blinked and then Tor was there, standing before him, smiling at him, magic blazing between them.

"My dear Kip," Tor said softly, so very softly, but Cliopher knew that even such a whisper would carry to every listening ear.

He swallowed, astounded by such a greeting here—in the middle of the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars. But if this was a challenge, Cliopher refused to fail. "My dear Tor," he said, as soft, as well heard.

He imagined there were gasps. If there were, Cliopher didn't hear them. He was too caught by the light in Tor's eyes, even brighter now for his saying that word, for being willing to use that name.

Cliopher was not at all surprised when Tor offered him a hand then, perhaps seeing how much he was trembling; he accepted the hand desperately, twining their fingers together and then clinging on for dear life.

Together, they crossed the remainder of the throne room and ascended the steps to the lower dais.

***

The final Schooled magic ritual was excruciatingly lengthy when all Cliopher wanted was to have it done, finished, over with. He was certain the hour bells tolled at least twice while he stood with Tor in the centre of the patterns of salt, ears full of chanting he couldn’t understand, nose burning from the acrid scent of the incense, mind dazzled by the rush of Tor’s magic.

It kept going—until, between one sharply drawn breath and the next, the magic around them shifted, twisted, then solidified into a crackling orb that Cliopher couldn’t see, but that felt like a lightning storm building, and building—waiting for the right moment to unleash its fury.

He stood at the edge of the long bridge over the Haren Gap, the magic waiting to chase him across, broken planks ready to give, to make him fall. Panic burst through him. The gap was too high. The bridge too long. The other side too far. He blinked—terrified, frozen.

Someone squeezed his hands. Tor. Tor squeezed his hands. Cliopher wasn’t at the edge of the long bridge. Wasn’t about to run barefoot, hands-tied across the Haren Gap. No, he was standing on the edge of a much different precipice—but Tor, Tor had his hands.

Cliopher’s mind cleared as Tor’s magic washed out of him like a smooth tide pulling back to the sea. And, as it did, Cliopher’s sense of Tor was suddenly there.

The feelings weren’t kind. There was dread, and fear, and a deep-rooted self-loathing. Cliopher swallowed back Tor’s recoil, his desperate desire to halt what was happening. He knew Tor wanted to protect him, to sever the ritual, to break apart the storm waiting to engulf him. But it had to be done to ensure the wound in the world was fully healed.

Cliopher turned his hands over so he could clasp Tor’s. He wasn’t certain which of them was trembling more. "It's not the same," he said quietly, utterly certain. "It’s not the same because I have you."

Tor’s magic-bright eyes delved into his own. Desperately worried. Desperately afraid.

“It’s fine,” Cliopher said very, very gently.

Tor’s eyes widened a fraction. His lips trembled, but curled up very slightly. “Of course, it is, my dear Kip. Of course, it is.” Tor looked over Cliopher’s shoulder—at one or both of the high priests, Cliopher thought.

"Hold on then," Tor instructed, pulling Cliopher into his arms, cocooned him close. Always glad for clear instructions, Cliopher wrapped his own arms around Tor, pressed his head into Tor’s chest, and clenched his eyes shut. Around them, the storm of magic surged, and sizzled, and snapped.

Cliopher managed one short, sharp breath in—

A front of cold crashed over him, through him. Jarring, biting, dissonant—reaching, pulling, catching, holding. Cliopher shuddered under the onslaught, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to fight. All he could do was hold on to Tor, cling fast lest he be washed away.

His knees went weak. His mind went numb. Sharp, jagged edges of magic tore into him, ripped through him.

“I have you,” he thought he heard, the words whispered over and over. “I have you.”

The storm lasted hours. It lasted forever.

***

Cliopher realized his eyes were open, that he could see the shimmer of white silk, of cloth of gold, of luminescent pearls—not flame pearls—and diamonds. That he could feel the delicate lines of embroidery under his fingertips. That he could smell, not pungent incense but faint traces of vanilla, and bergamot, and rose. So pleasant. So familiar. That he could taste the fizz of Tor’s magic—warm, resonant, bright; it soothed the sharp bitterness on his tongue, on his skin, on his soul. That he could hear Tor still murmuring, “I have you,” over and over again.

A thousand years could have passed. It felt like a thousand years had. Everything ached. Everything.

He shifted in Tor’s arms. Tor immediately let go, let him step back before reaching out to grasp his hands back tentatively, gently, softly—as if needing reassurance that Cliopher was still there. “Kip?”

“I’m fine,” Cliopher said. He hadn’t died, after all. He wasn’t maimed. Or broken. Or bleeding. He was extremely glad that Tor hadn’t shared the experience.

“I am sure you are, my dear Kip,” Tor said, entirely disbelieving, although everything in him radiated relief.

Cliopher couldn’t quite find a smile. Not yet. “And besides,” he said instead. “This next part should more than make up for it, I believe?”

Tor did not laugh—perhaps trying to remain calm, serene, glorious—although he did let out the softest of huffs. "It is the easy part," he said quietly, whether to Cliopher or to himself, Cliopher wasn’t certain.

Feeling Tor’s doubt, Cliopher shifted his hands so that he was the one providing support, being the rock holding fast. "This is the easy part," he echoed, a little too loudly. His cheeks warmed, knowing how far his words would be carried.

Tor looked at him, looked through him, brought brilliant golden eyes up to catch Cliopher’s own. As their gazes met, familiar, warm, comforting magic sparkled between them—no longer a flood, but a soothing balm on Cliopher’s scalded soul.

“Tor,” Cliopher said softly, knowing that he was still worried, anxious, unsure.

Tor grimaced, embarrassed. It was a well-known fact that emperors could not be embarrassed. Well known, perhaps, but obviously wrong. Cliopher squeezed Tor’s hands gently, so gently. "Tor," he said for a second time. One for a token. Two for a promise. Three for a—

Once, Cliopher had dreamed of having his deeds sung of in the Lays—like the story of Elonoa’a and Aurelius Magnus. Once he’d seen a picture of the Emperor Artorin Damara and thought, Our fates are intertwined. Once he’d imagined being friends with the emperor. No, not just friends. Fanoa. He had never, not ever, dreamed that one day, perhaps, he could have everything.

Of course, Tor was anxious, uncertain, unsure. There was almost nothing known about wild magic bonds. They were a legend. A mystery.

But Cliopher would sail out of the world for Tor if he needed to. This. This was the very least he could do. "Tor,” he said, a third time—knowing deep in his heart what Tor wanted more than anything else. What Tor needed. Cliopher squeezed his hands, looked deep into the golden eyes that he loved so dearly and said, “I choose you.”

Tor’s eyes widened with astonishment. A sweeping tide of emotion rushed through him, through Cliopher. Gentle this time, warm and bright, and glowing with wonder, with fondness, with love. No one had chosen Tor before. Used him, worshiped him, revered him—but never, ever, simply chosen him.

He beamed at Cliopher, radiant and glorious, his magic blazing around them in a fire of euphoria, a firestorm of joy. And in the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars, Tor gave everything that he was to Cliopher. And Cliopher, resonating fully with Tor’s magic, gave everything he was in return.

***

A spark lighting the first fire in a desolate and dark kitchen

The shape of burning coals laid out across the sand

A strand of shells gifted for the hearth-fire of a new life for the world

A glint of gold outside a tower at the edge of the world

The smell of a campfire, of woodsmoke, of pine

A name spoken for the first time; a song hummed for the thousandth time

A joke once told, once shared, once devastating

Eyes meeting across a study, a sandbar, a bed

A touch sparking shock, and worry, and wonder—and delight, and amazement, and love

The one who left and the one who chose to stay

The sun and the flame, tovo and tanaea

Two lost sides of a clamshell, a fanoa—merging, reforming into one

***

Cliopher opened his eyes. Tor opened his eyes. They opened their eyes. Caught each other's, caught themselves. Magic sizzled, sparkled, flamed between them. Emotions tumbled through them. Amazement, joy, surprise. Wonder. Fondness. Affection. Love.

Thoughts tickled lightly at the edge of hearing. Beloved, one said. Beloved, one agreed.

A song, said one. Our song, one clarified.

My dear Kip, said one. My dear Tor one said. Dismay. Dissonance. Distress. No, not—not Tor.

Shock tumbled Cliopher out of the connection, separated them into individual halves. He blinked in confusion, opened his mouth to say something. Hands squeezing his own, hard, so hard, like someone clinging to a rock in a storm. He looked up. Saw first his lord, his Tor—no, his…

He looked beyond the face of the one he loved. Looked to a wall of marble, to carved words, carved names. And right there, right at the feet of the golden throne: one name. Cliopher laughed. He stared at that name and he cried and he laughed, and his laugher echoed outward, echoed through the throne room on radiant waves of leftover magic.

His lord, his Tor, his… began to laugh too, caught up, caught in, caught by Cliopher's own revelation. The laughter bubbled between them, emotions bubbled between them: shock, amusement, brilliant delight.

"Oh—" Cliopher managed not to say the word on the tip of his tongue.

It was heard nonetheless. The Sun-on-Earth shone incandescently in Cliopher's eyes. In his heart. In his everything. So amused, my dear Kip? Cliopher heard.

He stared at that name, right at the feet of the golden throne where the Last Emperor of Astandalas had sat for a thousand years. I'm sorry, he thought.  It's not funny. It's not, but it is. Cliopher's thoughts were clearly chaotic, confused, insensible. He released his dear lord's hands, brought them up to his shoulders, pressed their foreheads together. “You're remarkable,” he said, staring into his golden eyes.

And you are effervescent, my dear Kip, came the thought. You realize we're in the middle of court?

Oh. He tried to think of something to say. I’m sorry, my lord. He couldn’t call him Tor. Not now. Not knowing.

Not your lord, came the remonstration. Not anymore. We’re like one now, remember.

Fanoa, Cliopher thought, the word coming easily to his mind, if never, it seemed, to his lips. Two sides of a clam shell. Different, but equal, Different but the same. It was a word that didn’t have an equivalent in Shaian.

But they didn’t need one. Not anymore. His fondness crested over Cliopher like a wave, echoed back with Cliopher’s own brilliant emotions. Fanoa? came the question. Not just friends, then, I take it? There was a pause, then a mere whisper of thought: Beloved?

Heart giddy, Cliopher agreed before he could even form the word. Beloved.

***

They stood gazing into each other's eyes, emotions rippling back and forth. Thoughts rippling back and forth. It was utterly impossible not to be caught in the delight of it all.

Some time later—whether minutes, or hours, or days—Cliopher didn’t know, he realized that someone was speaking.

One of the high priests, came the answer to his unspoken question. He’s providing a long-winded blessing. Don’t worry, we don’t need to listen.  I’ll notice the signal when it’s over.

Cliopher bit his tongue trying not to laugh. At least his face was turned away from the audience. The only ones who could see him were Ludvic and Rhodin and Pikabe and Ato, the four imperial guards standing at perfect attention a few feet behind where they were standing.  Surely none of them would tell tales. Surely.

***

Still later, Cliopher wondered how much time had actually passed. It felt like a thousand years since he’d stood before the great doors of the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars staring at the carvings of Yr the Conqueror’s life.

It couldn’t have been a thousand, he was certain, much as it seemed that way. Perhaps five then: the length of a typical court ceremony.

The sun is setting, his fanoa said. It's been more than five hours.

Ah. Cliopher could only imagine what the audience in the throne room thought of such a lengthy ceremony. They had to be bored, stiff, and hungry. He couldn’t imagine that the two of them standing on the dais together was that exciting.

The denial came so loudly, he had to wince. Of course, we’re exciting, my dear Kip, came the thought. We’re legendary.

Well, he was at least, Cliopher could agree, a kernel of uncertainty blossoming in his chest. He buried it deep, deep, deep—not wanting it to be found. I wish we didn’t have an audience, he thought instead.

I’ve gotten used to it. The regret hurt Cliopher’s heart. Maybe if I was just…

But of course, he wasn't. Hadn't been for years, decades, centuries. He was Artorin Damara, the Glorious One, the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, the Lord of Five Thousand Lands and Ten Thousand Titles, the Lord of Zunidh, and the Last Emperor of Astandalas.

And a Mdang, came Cliopher’s thought before he could stifle it. Cheeks heating, he immediately added, When you start getting more letters from my family than I do, I am going to laugh.

He sensed profound puzzlement.  Why would I?

You told Vinye you'd pass on any hugs that the family wanted to send. It's your own fault.

Laughter echoed through Cliopher’s head. Oh, came the realization. You mean I'm going to start getting letters from all ninety-nine of your cousins?

Fifty-nine, Cliopher corrected. And maybe not all of them. A few might be too anxious to write to the Lord of Rising Stars simply to ask him to give their cousin a hug.

Amusement welled up at the thought; Cliopher knew it wasn't his. Honourary Mdang. That's a title I'd be pleased to carry.

Cliopher’s own happiness burning brighter at the feel of his delight.  Connected as they were, their joy spiraled higher and higher, bouncing between them one to the other. Until…

The blessing is over. We should try and pay attention now.

Cliopher had forgotten again that they had an audience. He shifted so he wasn't simply staring at his fanoa, his Radiancy, his Sun-on-Earth. A whisper of a smile came at that thought. He wasn't as good as the Sun-on-Earth at hiding his emotions. Particularly not when said Sun-on-Earth was feeling so delightfully happy.

Focus on the room, he reminded himself, reminded him.

He released Cliopher’s hands, nudged him around so they both faced the court, then grabbed Cliopher’s closest hand again and laced their fingers tight together. Cliopher knew that he knew that Cliopher didn’t want to let go. Neither of them did.

Ready? came the question.

Are we taking the side entrance? Cliopher wondered, considering how quickly they could escape. He tried not to let his eyes focus on the audience—hundreds of people watching the lower dais, watching them.

Oh, my dear Kip, if this is going to be a grand song one day, we cannot slip out the side door. The thought radiated with fondness; Cliopher doubted he’d ever get tired of feeling it. If anyone could see the expression on his face, he imagined he looked—the only word that came to mind was besotted.

Besotted, agreed his fanoa. Cliopher wasn’t sure which of them was more delighted with the word, even if he still didn’t quite understand its meaning. Beloved, came the argument.

Beloved, Cliopher agreed, as they moved towards the steps leading down to the floor of the throne room. As they descended the steps, everyone watching made full obeisances. When they stepped onto the jeweled floor, the Sun-on-Earth gave the gesture to rise. Cliopher tightened his hold on his fanoa’s hand even as every eye in the room turned to them. He was eminently grateful that few were willing to look the Sun-on-Earth in the face; because of their closeness, it meant no one was quite looking at him either.

He couldn’t help looking at the audience, however; his eyes darted around the room, unable to linger on any one person. There, the sky-blue of the Prince of Amboloyo. There, the burnt umber of the upper secretariat. And there—in a riot of colours from his own midnight blue and orange to aquamarine and amethyst—his family, his friends, his household.

Eidora Mdang looked at a loss for words. His aunt Oura seemed shocked. His cousin Dora stood silent next to his aunt, watching in wonder. And Vinye, his dear sister, gazed at him anxiously, worriedly. In the Vangavaye-ve, most ceremonies were celebrated with music, and singing, and dancing. To them, the court ceremony had to feel foreign. Too quiet. Too ritualistic. And Cliopher—too far from the Kip they all knew and loved.

He turned his head slightly, meeting Vinye's eyes, then winked. His sister’s eyes went wide and a smile blossomed across her face. She tugged on their mother's arm and whispered something low, causing Eidora Mdang to smile too.

Cliopher breathed out a sigh of relief as they passed by his family. Too soon, as it turned out. The moment they made it beyond them, his small cousin’s voice rang out through the Throne Room of the Palace of Stars, “Did Lord Artorin just marry Cousin Kip?” 

Chapter Text

The journey back to the Imperial Apartments was mostly a blur. Cliopher held tight to his fanoa’s hand, to Tor’s hand, to…

Words failed him—failed him like they never had that brilliant, rebel poet whose words were so scandalous, so treasonous that they’d been banned across the Empire.

Cliopher flushed with embarrassment, thinking of how much his younger self had lived for those poems, those tales of legend, of derring-do. How he’d dreamed, not once but many times of the idea of going adventuring with the Red Company. Back then, he’d set his hopes on meeting Jullanar of the Sea. He’d thought her exceptional—like they all were—but also approachable, possible. Teenage Kip had thought that if he ever came across their illustrious company, that the others wouldn’t give him the time of day; but Jullanar of the Sea—the one known for being down to earth, smart, and as normal as any of them could be—well, perhaps she’d take the time to talk to him. And perhaps he, teenage Kip, wouldn’t be so completely tongue-tied in front of her, at least not the way he’d be in front of him. The rebel poet. The writer of the magnificent Aurora.

Cliopher was a long way from his teenage self now, but he was still most definitely tongue tied. Worse, he knew that he knew it. Him: Cliopher’s fanoa, his Tor, his…

They reached the Imperial Apartments while Cliopher was still trying to fit that word—that name—into place, into the puzzle of the man standing at his side, clinging to Cliopher as hard as Cliopher was clinging to him.

Cliopher couldn’t speak as the two guards on the outer doors stamped their spears, saluted magnificently, then opened the doors for them. He couldn’t speak as they passed through the seven anterooms, each subsequent pair of guards stamping their spears and saluting just as magnificently as the first.

He couldn’t speak either—emotions muddled, confused, everywhere all at once. Cliopher wondered how much of that maelstrom was his fault. His own emotions were topsy-turvy, caught in a whirlpool he couldn’t pull out of. Guilt rose as he realized that this part of their bond, this sharing, was completely new to his fanoa, his Tor, his…

What a way to begin, Cliopher thought. Realizing how poorly that sounded only made his guilt churn worse.

As they passed into the private study, he stopped, tightening his hold on Cliopher’s hand so that he came to a stop too. I need some air, came the thought: his fanoa’s, his Tor’s, his…Ludvic, who’d guarded his Radiancy since the Fall, responded to the silent thought even before Cliopher could. Whether a hand signal from his Radiancy or simply long practice reading his lord’s body language, Cliopher didn’t know. Whatever it was, the balcony door was open in plenty of time for him to pull Cliopher through.

Cliopher blinked when Ludvic closed the door after them, remaining inside the study with Ser Rhodin, Pikabe, and Ato. There’s no threat to us here, came the simple answer to Cliopher’s unspoken question.

But the guards never left his Radiancy alone with anyone. Oh. His eyes widened in realization. Of course. The ceremony was over now and they were firmly on the other side. Cliopher wasn’t, wasn’t anyone anymore.

His fanoa didn’t say anything to that, simply tugged Cliopher forward until they were standing at the edge of the balcony, looking out over Solaara at night. A not-quite-full moon hung brightly over the far horizon. Stars sparkled across the clear night sky. Soft scents filled Cliopher’s nose. Gentle scents, soothing scents—hints of smoke, of roasting meat, of night flowers blooming.

When his fanoa released his hand, Cliopher keenly felt the loss. He bit his lips to keep from voicing his distress, forgetting in the moment that his fanoa would be able to feel it anyway. But all he did was twist his fingers in a familiar motion, raising the wall of silence despite them being as alone as they’d ever been except, perhaps, that one time on the sandbar. A quick glance back showed that Ludvic and Rhodin had taken up positions inside the study—watching them certainly, but also giving them space.

They stood side by side, not touching, simply together. Cliopher’s hands felt lonely, so he curled them around the balcony railing. His fanoa copied the gesture, tightening his grip until Cliopher could see the tension running through his beautiful hands, his beautiful fingers.

“When they made me emperor,” his fanoa said after a while, words barely a whisper—detached, distant, remote. “I missed this the most.”

It had been taboo, Cliopher remembered, for the emperor to walk in the light of the sun or under the moon for fear that they'd be stolen away like Aurelius Magnus. “Being outside?” he asked, softly, gently, compassionately.

“Being outside like this,” his fanoa corrected, still remote, trying for serene. He glanced away from Cliopher, looked up at the moon and the stars. “I spent so much time outside in the years before they made me emperor. So much time enjoying my freedom, exploring the world—worlds, being with people…with, with my friends.”

Cliopher’s breath caught at the deep, deep pang of sadness, of hurt, of loss burning through his fanoa’s attempted serenity. “Never once did I think that there might be a time limit on my happiness. That I’d been bound as Marwn inside that tower for a reason and that one day that reason might come for me. Never once did I think to find a way to hide.”

A long pause. Cliopher let the silence rest between them; he looked down at his hands, at the gold marks dotting his skin rather than at the man standing at his side—giving him space to think, to feel, to put words to thoughts he’d never before dared speak. Been able to speak. Cliopher tried to still his own thoughts, his own feelings, focused on listening, hearing.

“And then, it was too late,” his fanoa said, tone very near a cry. “One moment I was with them. The next, I was being chased. Being caught.” He sucked in a harsh, ragged, pained breath—turned back to Cliopher. “As emperor, I came to hate going outside. The entire process of it was, was too much. All it did was remind me of what I couldn’t have. And the sense of dislocation wrought by the empire’s magics made it infinitely worse. I felt lost, unsteady, unmoored. I came to wonder if I’d ever been real.”

Cliopher’s eyes burned. He raised a hand, seeking to give comfort, but his fanoa stepped back sharply, moved out of reach. “I didn’t learn the name the empire gave me until the day they chained me to the centre of bindings holding five worlds together. And I’ve spent a thousand years since knowing that my loss, my captivity wasn’t even worth it because the empire fell. It fell.”

Tears were running down his fanoa’s cheeks now—freely, messily. Suffocating guilt pressed down on Cliopher, guilt and loss, and pain, and desperate, desperate longing. “And for all this time, my name, the name I gave myself, has been as treacherous as any Imperial taboo. Worse because it’s my own name and no one will say it in front of me. No one will say it to me. You won't even think it at me. It’s too much of a legend, a myth, a terror—as, as unreal as the rest of me.”

“Fitzroy!” Cliopher cried, his own emotions spiraling along with his fanoa's. Without thinking, he crossed the distance between them and seized his fanoa’s arms, his Tor’s, his…Fitzroy’s arms. “Fitzroy Angursell," he said fiercely.

His fanoa's frantic, desolate, despairing eyes came down and met his own, sending magic cascading between them, feelings cascading between them. Impossible to miss the devastating pain that Cliopher's shock, his confusion, his guilt had wrought. His fanoa trembled in his arms, worse even than he had when the taboos came down.

My fanoa. My Tor. My Fitzroy, he thought deliberately, tugging Fitzroy head down and pressing their foreheads together. Cliopher wanted to embrace him, to comfort him, to cradle Fitzroy's head to his chest. It only took a moment to realize how awkward his short stature made such a desire. Refusing to tumble them both to the stone floor of the balcony when they were both covered in a small fortune’s worth of fabrics and jewels, Cliopher wrapped an arm around his fanoa's, his Tor's, his Fitzroy's back and guided him over to the small seating area under the bright red awning. Cliopher let himself collapse onto a cushioned bench, pulling Fitzroy with him.

“Fitzroy Angursell,” Cliopher said deliberately, looking his fanoa fully in the eyes, rubbing his thumbs softly, gently, carefully over Tor's cheeks, brushing away the tears streaking from Fitzroy's beautiful lion’s eyes. How he wished he could brush away Fitzroy's grief as easily.

“Fitzroy Angursell,” Cliopher said again, quieter this time, savouring each syllable as much as he'd always savoured each line of Aurora. Aurora—the greatest poem to have ever come out of the Empire of Astandalas. The poem written by Fitzroy Angursell. Fitzroy Angursell—who was also the Lord of Rising Stars, the Sun-on-Earth, the Last Emperor of Astandalas. His Tor. His fanoa.

Cliopher worked to reconcile himself to the two most significant people in his life being one and the same. Tried to show his fanoa, his Tor, his Fitzroy, that it wasn't his name Cliopher was having trouble with, but rather the knowledge that someone he'd always loved, Fitzroy Angursell, had been trapped for a thousand years right in front of him and he'd never known. He'd never known.

But this moment wasn't about his sorrow, his regret, his guilt. This was about recognizing the answer to one of the most fundamental challenges a person could be asked. The first question out of the Lays. And to his fanoa, that answer was not, and had never had been, Artorin Damara.

Cliopher wiped his fingers dry on the bench’s cushions, not wanting to face Lady Ylette’s wrath, before wrapping his arms around his fanoa. Fitzroy offered no resistance, none at all, as Cliopher drew him close, cradled his head tight against his chest and shoulder.

“Fitzroy Angursell,” Cliopher said, a bare whisper this time. He tightened his hold, pressed his lips softly, so softly against the top of his fanoa's head. My Fitzroy.

***

Some time later, much later, Cliopher's stomach growled. Fitzroy shook slightly in his arms—with laughter, Cliopher realized. A bit prickly in his thoughts, a bit giddy, but laugher all the same. He let out a relieved breath.

"It's a strange feeling: someone else's hunger," Fitzroy said a moment later, squirming out of Cliopher's embrace, but grabbing hold of his hand so as not to separate them entirely. "I wasn't before, but I am now."

Cliopher's cheeks heated. "Sorry." I couldn't eat this morning.

Fitzroy's lips turned up slightly. "Easier for me, I think. I only had my own nerves to worry about."

"The problem was that I couldn't feel you. The magic was so thick, I couldn't sense you at all," Cliopher admitted. "When I realized, I almost ruined the whole purification trying to get out of the bath to see if you were all right. Thankfully, Conju reacted before I fumbled right into him."

"At least, you won't need to worry about that ever again," Fitzroy offered. "The bond is complete. You won’t be able to get rid of me now."

Good. Cliopher squeezed his fanoa's hand tightly. And I promise that I will always know who you are. Fitzroy Angursell.

Uncertainty, hope, and the softest of joy infused Fitzroy, infused Cliopher. I'm sorry I was…I was so upset, came his fanoa's thought, tinged with mild embarrassment, but nowhere near enough to wash away his underlying relief at being known, finally. Finally. I've never…

"I'm only sorry it took you becoming so upset for me to get out of my own head. I forgot that you were there now too." Cliopher smiled ruefully, apologetically. I think too much sometimes. I apologize in advance.

"Well then, I shall simply have to find ways to distract you, my dear Kip," Fitzroy said, tone surprisingly practical. He let go of Cliopher's hand so that he could lever himself up off the bench–then immediately reached back to grab it again and pull Cliopher up too. "As a start, we should probably find you something to eat so you don't wake up in the middle of the night starving—because then I would too."

***

Ludvic opened the balcony door for them just as Cliopher went to reach for the handle. The guard commander's mouth twitched at Cliopher's evident surprise, but he didn't say a word: the consummate professional in front of his Radiancy. Cliopher managed to nod in gratitude even as Fitzroy pulled him through.

At some point while they’d been out on the balcony, Conju had joined Ludvic and Rhodin in the study to wait for them. Unlike the two imperial guards—who conveyed an impressive amount of unconcern—Conju's face was a study in anxiety, worry, distress. He ran his eyes carefully over both Fitzroy and Cliopher as if to ensure they were both well, then glanced back and forth between them, as if having difficulty settling on who to concern himself with most in the moment.

You, came Fitzroy's thought. I asked him to look after you this morning, and you must know that Conju takes any of my requests very seriously.

Cliopher couldn’t disagree. I certainly needed his help this morning. Thank you.

You'll need his help again to get out of that court costume. Fitzroy laughed, drawing puzzled looks from their watchers. Speaking of which, have I told you how magnificent you look, my dear Kip?

Cliopher felt his cheeks flush–knew Fitzroy could feel his delight at the compliment. No more than you do, he managed.

They gazed at each other, lost in a cascade of happiness until a soft cough brought them back to themselves. They looked up almost as one. Conju's worry had shifted to amusement; his hand covered his mouth as if he hadn’t just coughed intentionally.

Fitzroy tilted his head to acknowledge Conju, then glanced over to Ludvic and Rhodin. "The bond is…more distracting than we expected," he explained, voice impressively serene. "Please do not hesitate to remind us where we are should it be needed."

"Of course, my lord," Rhodin acknowledged, glancing between them, his eyes surprisingly intent, curious, questioning.

Amusement burbled within Cliopher’s chest. He raised his eyebrows at Fitzroy. Remind me to tell you about Ser Rhodin's special investigations at some point, came his fanoa’s answer, which did nothing but make Cliopher more curious. But Fitzroy managed to keep on task; he looked between the two guards and said, "Ludvic, Rhodin, thank you for watching over Cliopher today. You have more than earned your rest. I expect your replacements must be waiting. "

"It was truly our pleasure to stand with him, my Lord,” Ludvic said. “Thank you for allowing us to do so.” At some unspoken signal between them, the two guards offered perfect salutes.

Fitzroy nodded to them, then turned to focus on his chief attendant and Groom of the Chamber. "Conju, we need to feed Cliopher. He’s feeling quite peckish.”

Conju shot Cliopher a slightly amused look, before bowing to Fitzroy. "Of course, my lord. I've already set out a platter for you both in Cliopher's rooms."

"Excellent. Thank you, Conju." Fitzroy tugged Cliopher towards the ivory door. "Come my dear Kip, before you faint."

"I am not going to faint, my dear…" Fitzroy.

I enjoy when you call me Tor, my dear Kip, Fitzroy assured him—and Cliopher knew he meant it. No one else calls me that.

"...Tor," Cliopher finished several moments too late, earning himself a strange glance from Conju. He shrugged at his friend, helpless to explain.

As Conju opened the ivory door, Varro and Zerafin came up behind them—having quietly and seamlessly exchanged places with Ludvic and Rhodin.

***

In Cliopher's rooms, an easy meal had been laid out on the table by the window. There were numerous finger-foods, from bite-size quiches to sliced hard cheeses and tiny herbed toasts—even a dozen tarts and biscuits for dessert. Nothing that required utensils, Cliopher was quite grateful to see. He could leave trying to use eating sticks until tomorrow. A pot of tea waited for them as well—magically kept piping hot, along with a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine.

In truth, it looked like the kind of simple meal Cliopher had set out for his occasional visitors back when he'd lived on his own at the end of the Alinorel wing. He’d never had the time, nor the inclination he had to admit, to cook. He’d been glad for the ability to request a tray from the kitchens on such occasions, making due with the cafeterias for the rest of his meals.

The spread set out in the Imperial Apartments was far more impressive than anything Cliopher had ever served, of course—the cheeses no doubt rare, the tarts far more delicate, and the dishes the superlative gold rimmed porcelain that were his Radiancy's usual—but otherwise the meal was approachable, comfortable, inviting.

And most assuredly for us to share, Fitzroy thought happily.

Cliopher realized that because of the taboos, Fitzroy had never been able to share food, not since becoming emperor. To share, he agreed wholeheartedly, before grinning at Conju. His friend had obviously arranged the meal with both him and Fitzroy in mind. "Thank you, my dear friend.”

"My pleasure, Cliopher," Conju said gently, dipped his head before turning to Fitzroy. "My lord, is there anything else you might need?"

Cliopher’s fanoa shook his head. "I don't imagine so. Thank you, Conju. Perhaps come back in a bell. I suspect we'll never finish without a bit of prompting."

"Of course, my lord.” Conju looked between them, expression somewhat bemused, but also concerned. “Cliopher's family leaves quite early tomorrow…"

"And you would suggest we get him to bed at a reasonable time,” Fitzroy completed the thought. “Yes, we shouldn’t linger. It has been a most eventful day—I think we can all agree.” Fitzroy glanced at Cliopher.

"Eventful,” Cliopher agreed. He’d had many much longer days, but nothing as full of highs and lows as this one. He would never forget it; yet, he hoped he would never have such a day again.

Fitzroy laughed out loud at the strength of Cliopher's thoughts. Conju gave him a confused look.

At Conju’s obvious confusion, Cliopher blurted, "Tor hasn't gone mad, Conju. He's responding to my thoughts."

Conju's eyes widened with incredulity, doubt, disbelief. He turned to Fitzroy as if expecting him to complete a joke. Fitzroy offered the bare hint of a smile, although Cliopher sensed the depth of his humour. "I had hoped we could confuse people for a while longer, my dear Kip," Fitzroy admonished, with no actual heat in his words. He turned to Conju. "Kip is telling the truth. The completed bond didn't simply give me the ability to feel his emotions in return. It seems we can now hear each other think if the thoughts are loud enough."

Conju expression reflected his obvious astonishment, wonder, surprise. "That's remarkable, my lord."

"Yes. And quite…distracting," Fitzroy said. "I meant it earlier when I said you have my permission to interrupt should it be needed. I expect we will appear quite rude until we adjust."

"As if anything you could do would be considered rude, my lord!" Conju objected. Because, of course, everyone knew that Sun-on-Earth could do no wrong.

Fitzroy let out a soft sigh, but Cliopher could feel his not-so-soft frustration. "We shall have to see if you can still say that with a straight face in a few days, Conju," his fanoa said serenely. Obviously not wanting to continue that line of conversation, Fitzroy gestured for Cliopher to sit. "Come, my dear Kip. Let's eat. We can discuss the etiquette of our speaking silently another day."

***

They ate companionably, barely talking out loud, but talking nonetheless. Cliopher could only imagine what Varro and Zerafin thought from their place by the door. It must be decidedly odd to watch people clearly having a conversation when they were just as clearly not speaking. He wondered what rumours would spread first.

None from the household or the guard, Fitzroy said definitively. I have no idea how Conju picks the attendants or Ludvic picks the inner guard, but not one has ever failed me since they came to their positions. They may discuss my private actions among the household, but nothing goes beyond it.

You do know they bet on you, Cliopher couldn't help pointing out.

Fitzroy's laughter was a delight Cliopher could listen to forever. Oh yes. Ludvic generally keeps me informed. I understand they had quite a pool going on how many times you'd pay unplanned visits to me last week. As the secret passages are not widely known—thus, nor your visit through them, I believe no one officially won.

Cliopher felt warm. He blamed it on the wine. You didn't seem to need me beyond that.

Fitzroy reached across the table and settled his hand over Cliopher's. I beg to differ. I will always need you, my dear Kip. I simply never want to be an imposition on you.

You could never be an imposition, Fitzroy, Cliopher said, knowing it as truth.

His fanoa’s emotions softened to almost blankness. He shook his head, then looked across the room. "Ah! Here is Conju. Back already?"

Conju bowed. "It's been over an hour, my lord. I thought I should check in on you."

“Yes. Thank you.” Fitzroy let go of Cliopher's hand and stood abruptly. "It will take some time to get out of your court costume, my dear Kip. I should leave you to Conju's care. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning.”

Cliopher stood, taken aback by Fitzroy’s sudden shift. He had no idea what to say, what to do, how to part after the day they'd had. He bit his lip, awkward, uncertain, confused. If Fitzroy noticed, he didn’t say anything. Goodnight Fitzroy, Cliopher finally managed. “Pleasant dreams.”

Fitzroy's mouth turned up slightly. Then he offered a flamboyant bow and hurried out of the room, leaving Cliopher shocked to his core. The Sun-on-Earth bowed to no one.

Ah, but you're not no one any more, my dear Kip, Came Fitzroy's thought, clear as day, even after he was physically beyond reach.

***

Taking off his court costume seemed to take far more time than putting it on, but Cliopher blamed the morning's haze of magic for that. He couldn't quite remember the entire process of getting dressed—just his breakdown in the bath and following Conju's simple directions afterwards. The time before the ceremony seemed less than a dream after the fact.

He imagined a lot of his memories might be divided now—into before and after the ceremony. Before and after Fitzroy, he thought, hoping his fanoa could sense his amusement. While he mentally sidestepped the thought of Fitzroy being trapped for so long without him knowing, Cliopher tried to convey how happy he was that Tor was Fitzroy. How could he not be? He'd loved Fitzroy Angursell since he was fourteen years old. He'd loved his Radiancy, Artorin Damara, nearly as long.

Whatever Fitzroy thought of Cliopher's mental musings, he didn't comment directly. But his happiness—no, not happiness, his feeling of growing ease—helped Cliopher relax under Conju's well-practiced ministrations.

Not that he relaxed too much. Cliopher was far more intensely aware of Conju's closeness than he'd been that morning. He barely twitched other than to follow his friend's directions as Conju carefully removed each layer of the court costume—folding, or hanging, or tucking it away somewhere—before moving on to the next. Cliopher couldn't help but be mesmerized at the care Conju showed. His own interest in fancy costumes was negligible. He could appreciate them, he could be trusted to take care of them, but he was more than happy to let other people be responsible for what his costumes actually looked like.

I'm going to remember that. Fitzroy's voice was soft and amused, anticipatory. Cliopher rolled his eyes.

"His Radiancy?" Conju asked curiously, stepping away to fold a span of cloth of gold carefully.

Cliopher nodded. "I was just musing at how much you seem to enjoy all this. And how much my own interest in court costumes is quite negligible and that I'm more than happy to let other people worry about it.

His friend burst out laughing. "Oh Cliopher, you didn't!"

“What?” Cliopher raised his eyebrows in obvious question.

"I hope you're prepared for what you've unleashed. His Radiancy enjoyed helping Lady Ylette choose your initial costumes. Given free rein…you're never going to be allowed to wear the same thing twice."

"Thankfully, there's a budget for my clothing," Cliopher said matter-of-factly. "It's a line item under my household. Which reminds me, I need to see how this costume is being accounted for." There was no doubt in Cliopher's mind that the costume had cost more than a few years of his salary.

Conju shook his head, face bright with humour. "The treasurer has been told to count it as a special expense. He's also under orders not to give you the details, so don't ask."

Cliopher couldn’t help his pained sigh. You're impossible, he sent fondly, despite knowing Fitzroy couldn't hear Conju’s part of the conversation.

"And Ylette's already been working to step up most of your costumes," Conju continued, tone shifting to one of cautious warning. "She is firmly of the belief that being bonded with the Sun-on-Earth needs to be recognized—and his Radiancy did not disagree."

"As if my costumes aren't already second only to what his Radiancy wears," Cliopher said sharply, somewhat exasperated.

He felt Fitzroy startle at his sudden annoyance and tried to send a wave of apology. It wasn't as if he was upset at him.

"Cliopher, would you truly refuse something he'd enjoy so much when you've just said you don't care one way or another?" Conju chided. "Trust him to know you well enough not to let Ylette get too ridiculous."

Cliopher sighed audibly, dramatically. "Fine. I will endeavour to ignore how much they enjoy themselves. But the costs will still need to be accounted for. No burying them." He made a point of thinking his capitulation as definitively as he spoke it out loud.

***

Cliopher would have thought falling asleep would be easy after such a challenging, exhilarating, exhausting day. As the midnight bells tolled, however, he found himself staring at the ceiling, tired yet unable to settle.

Fitzroy was as unsettled as he was, which didn't help matters. Rather than calming each other down, fretfulness cascaded between them, keeping them both awake. Cliopher knew how confused Fitzroy was, caught for the first time in the turbulence of shared emotions; he could sense how vulnerable Fitzroy felt, how needy—but there was a core of apprehension there too, as if he didn’t want to reach out, as if he couldn’t.

Cliopher knew what he wanted: he wanted Fitzroy within arm's reach—where he could see him, and feel him, and be certain he hadn’t somehow disappeared. But Cliopher didn’t need him—not, not really. They'd slept together several times since Fitzroy's heart attack, but each time had been precipitated by circumstance–never simply because, because…

He flushed, finding the truth near impossible to admit. But if he didn't get some sleep soon, he knew he'd be in no shape at all to see his family off. Was that enough of a reason? Biting his lip, Cliopher finally admitted, I'd rather you were here.

Oh? Came Fitzroy's thought—soft, concerned, almost hopeful.

I…you're too far away. Cliopher knew his argument made no sense at all given Fitzroy was quite literally in his head, but it was the best excuse he could come up with. Or, perhaps… I expect this room is far more to your liking. You might sleep better here.

I haven't slept anywhere else in the Palace of Stars. Fitzroy's tone was odd, uncertain, hesitant.

Then isn't it time you tried? Cliopher suggested. He felt Fitzroy give in to the prodding. Humming happily, Cliopher slid over to make room. This bed wasn't anywhere near the size of the one in the Imperial bedchamber, but it was plenty big enough for several people without any worry for crowding.

Not five minutes later, his door opened silently, letting in Fitzroy, Varro, and Zerafin. The two guards soundlessly took up positions on the door while his fanoa crossed to the bed—in bare feet, Cliopher noted. Conju's going to be scandalized, he thought quietly, raising the coverlet to allow Fitzroy to crawl into the bed next to him, before dropping it back into place. To find out you were wandering around barefoot.

I do enjoy discomposing Conju on occasion. Fitzroy wriggled closer, only stopping when he was less than a handspan away.

Still too far, Cliopher thought, scooting over to bridge the last bit of distance. Fitzroy raised an arm, allowing Cliopher to snug up tight into his side, before setting it down softly around Cliopher’s shoulders. It was, dare Cliopher say it, cozy. Warm. Comforting. Right.

As they leaned against each other, into each other, their emotions softened, tangled together. An unknown tension eased and Cliopher’s eyes fell shut. As he passed gently into sleep, he was certain his fanoa was humming.

***

A surprised gasp brought Cliopher out of a miasma of dreams of times and places that felt familiar but weren’t familiar to him. Stars going down through a horizon. A forest of silver. Sheep. A boat sailing a river of stars.

"Cliopher?" a voice whispered urgently.

He managed to open his eyes, mind still caught by sleep, befuddled, confused, disoriented. Warmth surrounded him, arms held him close. Slowly, Cliopher remembered where he was, who he was with, what had brought them there.

"Cliopher," came the voice again.

He recognized it this time. "Conju?"

“Yes, are you with me?”

He hummed an affirmative. He couldn't say he was awake, but he was becoming more so with each moment.

"Good," his friend said, interpreting Cliopher’s noise successfully. "It's almost dawn. If you want to say goodbye to your family, you need to move pretty quickly. The sky ship is scheduled to leave in less than an hour.”

Right. His family was leaving today. “I’m awake. Give me a moment.” Cliopher took a deep breath, then sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his fanoa. Then he considered whether or not to wake Fitzroy. Would he want…

Better to ask, he decided. Fitzroy, he called silently, tugging on his arm.

Fitzroy bolted upright with a startled cry, knocking Cliopher's hand away instinctively. "What? Who?"

Cliopher raised his hands and scootched back to give his fanoa space. "It’s me. It's Cliopher," he whispered urgently. "Everything is fine." It's just me, Fitzroy. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.

Embarrassment flooded Cliopher as Fitzroy came to his senses, realized where he was; he reached out and seized one of Cliopher's hands. "I'm sorry," he murmured, twisting their fingers together, rubbing a thumb over the back of Cliopher's hand as if to confirm he was real. I was startled. I forgot…I thought…

Forgot he could touch Cliopher. "I know. It's all right. It'll take time," Cliopher said softly. But I’m here. And I'm not going anywhere.

Fitzroy let out a harsh breath, then another, then a third. When his fanoa was breathing more or less normally again, Cliopher squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry for startling you," he apologized again. "It's almost time for my family to leave." I didn't want to leave without telling you. "I wanted to see if you…wanted to come say goodbye."

"Oh," Fitzroy murmured. Cliopher felt his appreciation, adoration, fondness. "Yes. Yes, I would."

Conju didn't say a word about the Sun-on-Earth sleeping in Cliopher's room, but when Fitzroy made a move to head back to his own to get ready, the Cavalier an Vilius made a distressed squawk. "My lord! Let me get you some sandals."

Told you so, Cliopher sent teasingly.

Fitzroy gave him a quick smile before straightening his face and turning to Conju, "I'm going across the hall, Conju. My feet will be fine. Come."

As Fitzroy left, followed by Conju, and Elish and Oginu—who must have come on shift while they were sleeping—Cliopher headed into his bathing room to wash quickly. Someone had set out robes for him: a crisp white under robe, a turquoise over robe, and a multilayered mantle of navy, orange, and bronze that seemed to float around him the layers were so light. It seemed altogether too fine an outfit for seeing his family off at dawn, but he expected this was only the beginning of his clothing adventures, given Conju's comments from the previous day.

He had to admit he did look fairly good.

Rather than his usual series of belts denoting his offices, there was a single, deceptively simple belt lined with small gold disks, each studded with one of the fire-jewels that had decorated the mantle he'd worn at the ceremony. As Cliopher did up the belt, he ran his fingers over one of the jewels. He really did need to figure out where they'd come from. Sliding into a pair of sandals—not a new pair, he was glad to see, but rather the pair he found most comfortable—he headed out of his rooms.

Fitzroy was just coming out of the Imperial bedchamber as Cliopher came down the hallway. His fanoa smiled radiantly at the sight of him—the soft swell of his joy causing Cliopher to smile back.

In that moment, Cliopher decided that, perhaps, he wouldn't make a fuss about his clothing after all.

***

They made good time up to the top of the spire, likely because it was early enough that there was almost no one out and about in the Palace of Stars to see the Sun-on-Earth and Cliopher passing by. The spire was another matter entirely: abuzz with the frenetic activity of a sky ship readying for sail.

Cliopher couldn't determine who on the ship noted their arrival first—but within a minute of their appearance on the boarding deck, Captain Diogen was rushing across the rope bridge from his ship and practically throwing himself at their feet. Cliopher winced in sympathetic pain.

"Captain Diogen," Fitzroy acknowledged serenely, gesturing for the captain to rise.

"My lord—lords," the captain said nervously, climbing awkwardly to his feet. "I hadn't realized you were coming or I'd have been here waiting for you."

It was impossible for Cliopher to miss how discombobulated Diogen was; he smiled, hoping to reassure his fellow Wide Seas Islander. "I’m sorry, Captain. I wanted to see my family off and Tor decided to join me."

Diogen's eyes went wide. His face tensed with worry, as if trying to determine how best to respond. Cliopher couldn’t begin to guess what was unsettling the sky ship captain so badly. Perhaps Diogen hadn't had enough coffee. It was very early, after all. While the sky was beginning to lighten, the sun hadn’t peaked its head up over the horizon yet.

"Don't let us keep you, Captain Diogen," Fitzroy said, noticing Cliopher struggling with his thoughts. "We understand how much you must have to do."

“Er, yes. Thank you, um, my lords," Diogen managed. "Er, the Mdang family should be here any moment. We've already loaded their luggage."

As Captain Diogen hurried back across the rope bridge to his ship, Cliopher stared after him, entirely bemused. "That was odd. He’s not usually so flustered."

Fitzroy looked thoughtful, pensive, contemplative—but not overly concerned. "Oh, here comes your family, my dear Kip,” he said after a few moments, nudging Cliopher to turn around.

Cliopher followed his fanoa’s direction to find his beloved family hurrying onto the sky ship dock, no doubt worrying that they were late. His sister Vinye caught sight of them first—her face brightened noticeably as she took in his presence. "Oh, Kip! You came!"

She made to rush forward, but Gaudy quickly grabbed her elbow. "Mama, you can’t!"

"Right. Right. Thank you, Gaudy." Vinye’s smile faded as she sighed audibly, then gave Kip a forlorn look. "Sorry, Kip…Oh, my lord. I’m sorry!”

Cliopher noted the moment his sister realized she'd forgotten etiquette entirely. As she moved to make an obeisance, however, his fanoa waved his hand. Cliopher thought the feelings of fondness washing through him weren’t only his. "No need for all that, Saya Vawen," Fitzroy said serenely, nodding to include the rest of the family. "We've just come to say goodbye."

“Thank you, my lord,” Vinye said, giving him a grateful smile before settling her eyes back on Cliopher. "Kip, are you alright?"

Cliopher took a moment to think about her question, wanting to answer it honestly. "Mostly," he finally said. "It's been a bit…disconcerting, unsettling."

Has it? Fitzroy asked silently, nudging his shoulder.

As if you can't tell. As if you don’t feel the same.

"Well, you certainly sound better today than you looked yesterday," Vinye said, studying him closely. "Although your costume was truly impressive."

Your sister has excellent taste. Cliopher couldn't help but roll his eyes at Fitzroy's feelings of satisfaction.

His sister glanced between them, frowning. Cliopher smiled reassuringly. "Would you believe Tor's a chatterbox when you get him alone in your head?" he said, with a chuckle. "You'll appreciate that he was at least complimenting your taste, Vinye. I'm quite certain he helped design of my court costume."

Vinye didn’t speak, perhaps trying to wrap her mind around the idea of the two of them so connected. She did, however, turn to Fitzroy with wide eyes, a clear question on her face.

Fitzroy hummed in agreement. "My costumier did most of the work, but she did consult me. She knows how much I enjoy seeing Kip dressed up."

"So do I," Vinye agreed softly, giving Cliopher a sidelong look. She paused, then raised her head to meet Tor's golden eyes straight for the barest of a second. "You know, I'm going to hold you to your promise."

Fitzroy laughed, sending a swell of joy rushing through Cliopher. "Our Kip has warned me to expect a ridiculous number of requests from all ninety-nine of his cousins. You have my promise to fulfill them all."

"Only fifty-nine," Vinye corrected.

"Fifty-nine," Fitzroy echoed, as if he didn't know the real number. Cliopher knew he did, but then he saw how the rest of his family relaxed in the face of Fitzroy's good humour. He smiled fondly.

A moment later, Cliopher tensed as his mother stepped up to Vinye’s side. Her expression was solemn, even serious, as she gripped Vinye’s arm tightly and gave him a stern look. "You had better visit, Kip. I don't care about all the kerfuffle needed. We'll sort it out."

"Yes, Mama,” Cliopher agreed, taking a much-relieved breath. “I promise.”

"And you had better take care of him, my lord," Eidora Mdang said, turning abruptly to stare at Fitzroy.

“I most certainly will, Saya Mdang,” Fitzroy said serenely, seemingly delighted at the order. Cliopher refused to glance at Elish and Oginu, certain the two honour guards would be far less delighted.

"Kip, you had better take care of him, too," Cliopher’s aunt Oura instructed, causing Cliopher to flush warmly. "I expect both of you boys to come home."

Cliopher didn't think Fitzroy's amazement could get any stronger, but somehow it did. "We will, Aunt Oura," Cliopher promised, eyes going a bit damp. He tried to smile as his sister led their mother and aunt Oura towards the sky ship—a uniformed crew member waiting by the rope bridge to help them across.

After the more emotional partings, Cliopher wasn’t upset when his niece Leona and cousin Zemius both offered simple, quiet farewells, neither looking very awake—which was probably a good thing given his cousin’s propensity to faint in Fitzroy’s presence—and then his cousin Quintus stepped forward, holding his cousin Dora.

"You looked beautiful yesterday, Cousin Kip!" Dora announced before Quintus could say anything. "And you too, Lord Artorin."

"Why thank you, Sayina Dora," Fitzroy said, turning a brilliant smile on Cliopher’s young cousin. "And so did you! Your dress was a beautiful shade of blue. Kivi blue, I believe you call it?"

Dora beamed at Fitzroy's memory. Given the amused look his cousin Quintus was giving him, Cliopher imagined his own expression was also particularly fond.

"Lord Artorin, can you please give Cousin Kip a goodbye hug from me?" Dora asked politely, if loud enough that anyone on the spire could probably hear her. At least, Cliopher thought, their parting would fuel drinks for the sky ship’s crew for months.

Fitzroy winked at Cliopher’s thought, before giving Dora the softest of looks. “Of course, I can Sayina Dora. I’d be glad to.”

Cliopher felt a surge of warmth as Fitzroy pulled him into an embrace for a quick moment before letting go. His fanoa looked at Dora. "How was that?"

"I think you need to give Cousin Kip a much longer hug than that, Lord Artorin,” Dora told him, much to Cliopher’s amusement. “Because we're all leaving and he can't hug any of us."

Cliopher refused to laugh as Fitzroy tugged him close a second time, wrapping him in a hug for a ridiculously long time, while beaming both inside and out. His fanoa certainly didn’t mind Dora’s request in the slightest. Not that Cliopher wasn’t also enjoying himself thoroughly—which only prompted Fitzroy to hold on tighter for even longer. Finally, after what had to be a few minutes, Fitzroy looked over at Dora. "Was that better, Sayina Dora?"

Dora nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Lord Artorin.”

Cliopher bent down so he was closer to his little cousin’s level. "Now, Cousin Dora, when you're on the sky ship, I hope you will give all the family just as long of hugs from each of us. Will you do that?"

"Of course, I can Cousin Kip!” she said. Dora grinned at them, then took off towards the sky ship—taking Cousin Quintus entirely off guard.

“Er, bye Kip!” Quintus shouted, racing after Dora.

Cliopher swallowed audibly, watching until the two made it across to the sky ship and moved out of sight. Then he sighed and wiped his eyes with the back of a hand. His heart ached. He trembled slightly—in sadness, loss, grief, he wasn’t sure. But then a warm presence pressed against his back, and Fitzroy wrapped his arms around him—gently this time—and rested his head on Cliopher’s shoulder. And, despite the sadness at his family’s leaving, Cliopher felt immeasurably better.

Chapter Text

Cliopher was quiet as they made their way back to the Imperial Apartments. There were more people out and about now that the sun was up—although not as many as there would have been if the week hadn’t been declared a Zunidh-wide holiday. Full of the emotions of parting, Cliopher tried to emulate the calm and serenity Fitzroy maintained without thinking, biting his tongue to keep from either crying or laughing. Next to the relaxed—if subdued—exuberance of his family, the almost reverent obeisances and looks they received from those in the palace felt particularly jarring.

Your family is certainly unique, Fitzroy said. I can see why you had such difficulties with etiquette when you first started in my service.

It took me five tries to pass the Imperial Bureaucratic Examinations, Cliopher admitted, glad to have the distraction of conversation. I kept failing the etiquette section.

His fanoa's silent laughter made Cliopher smile. What was wrong with the test?

Cliopher warmed at Fitzroy’s confidence that it had been the test at fault, rather than his own abilities. The exams assumed that any applicant would be intimately familiar with Astandalas hierarchy and culture. I was almost clueless outside of some advice I received from a neighbour who'd studied magic at the Imperial College for a few years.

Fitzroy released a quiet hum of acknowledgement—inaudible to any but Cliopher, and possibly Elish and Oginu. Ah, so that's why the third major change you recommended was updating the examinations.

Cliopher flushed with embarrassment.  Only for the benefit of Zunidh. A diversity of perspectives is key for any good government.

Of course, it is, Fitzroy readily agreed, as if that was never a question. I am starting to see where you got yours, my dear Kip.

***

When they arrived back at the Imperial Apartments, they found a light meal waiting for them in the breakfast room. A large plate of pastries, along with coffee for Cliopher and tea for Fitzroy. Both of their favourite options were well-represented—artfully arranged together rather than set out on separate plates as they had been when he'd eaten breakfast with Fitzroy in the past. Cliopher couldn't help but smile, expecting Conju's hand in the arrangement; no doubt he'd seen Fitzroy's joy the night before at being able to share.

I could get used to this, came Fitzroy's quiet thought—his emotions brimming with soft happiness, pleasure, delight.

I could too, Cliopher offered as they took their seats. He met Fitzroy's eyes across the table, savouring the feel of his fanoa's magic softly resonating through him—through them—at the contact. It seemed a touch strange that the magic should feel so comfortable, so right, but it did. As if Fitzroy's magic had always been meant to find a home in him. Then again, perhaps it had. It was impossible to forget that the first time he'd seen a picture of Artorin Damara, he'd thought that their fates were intertwined—that the first time he'd read Aurora, his very soul had been captured, captivated, entranced.

Impossible not to connect those moments to now, sharing a glance across a table, sharing emotions and quiet thoughts. Fitzroy broke eye contact first, reaching across the table to pick up the carafe of coffee. He poured Cliopher a cup with obvious relish.

"Thank you, " Cliopher said, feeling how much his fanoa enjoyed doing such a simple task. "Conju is going to scold you." He reached over to return the favour, pouring Fitzroy's tea carefully–much to his fanoa's amusement.

"He most certainly will not," Fitzroy insisted. "He'll simply give me a long, sad look and then roll his eyes when he thinks I can't see."

Cliopher laughed.  Before he could say anything further, his fanoa added, "Just wait until he starts in on you, my dear Kip. He'll accept both of us serving each other here—but everywhere else, he'll insist on following protocol to the letter. If he has his way, you won’t be allowed to pour anyone else so much as a glass of water before we retire." While Fitzroy's words were tinged with humour, a hint of concern simmered beneath the surface.

The taboos, Cliopher realized. He wouldn't be allowed to serve anyone because of the taboo against sharing dishes—or, perhaps, because of various purification requirements.  Such restrictions would make it far more difficult to have his friends over for meals whenever they had free time. He certainly wouldn’t be able to invite them entirely on a whim—not with the need for his household to manage two sets of dishes and food requirements. Recognizing Fitzroy’s distress on his behalf, he tried to shrug the matter off. "Well, at least Kiri will appreciate not having to share her food when I'm too busy to think about eating." He picked a chocolate bun from the tray and pulled off a piece. "Perhaps when I am back in my own apartments, I can convince Franzel to leave out more snacks."

His fanoa shook his head, likely well aware of Cliopher's true feelings. "I will ensure Conju brings me more snacks as well," he said fondly, affectionately, teasingly.  "If only so you can steal them from me. I wouldn't want to deprive you of such enjoyment after all."

***

They lingered over breakfast for quite some time. Cliopher noticed Conju poking his head into the room every now and again to check on them, but his friend seemed more than content to let them linger. As they finished the last of their coffee and tea, Cliopher realized that Fitzroy was—he didn't think stalling was the right word. No, his fanoa seemed more…at a loss. 

Considering Fitzroy intently, Cliopher realized the problem almost immediately. After a few weeks of poor health, concern, anxiety, and intense magic, Fitzroy wasn't certain what to do. He wasn't prepared for an empty stretch of time where he could do, well, almost anything. Such time had simply never existed for him, at least not while in the Palace of Stars. Even at Navikiani, it had taken several days for his fanoa to relax, to find ease. "Perhaps—" he suggested tentatively, thinking of what had worked that first day on Lesuia Island, “—we could sit on your balcony and enjoy the sun. I've been trying to finish Aya's latest book."

Fitzroy's eyebrows rose. "A new one?" he asked, tone delightfully hopeful.

“Aya sent me one of the first copies printed. I expect a few hours will see me to the end."

Fitzroy practically leapt from his chair, reaching over to grab Cliopher’s hand and pull him up too. "Come on then. Let's go grab your book so we can read."

***

Cliopher wasn't certain how his suggestion that they go outside and read had resulted in him half-curled in his fanoa's lap reading Aya's book from the beginning—silently, so Fitzroy could follow along. But he couldn't deny how comfortable the arrangement was. Reading about a murder was much less fraught when held almost in someone's arms. His Fitzroy's arms. His fanoa's arms.

He still hadn't explained what the word fanoa meant to Fitzroy. Not really.  Not the full meaning that it had for him—not that Fitzroy could have missed how important the word was and how often he used it in his head but not out loud.

Cliopher’s stomach clenched at the thought of Fitzroy trying to navigate the twists and turns of his emotions and thoughts. What did his fanoa make of it all? Cliopher knew the way he thought wasn’t in any way normal—that he wasn’t in any way normal. Why should he hope for Fitzroy's understanding, when he didn't even understand himself most of the time?

At least his fanoa was handling the turbulence of his emotions much more easily than Cliopher had at first. It had only been a day, but Fitzroy already seemed so much more capable than Cliopher at separating their emotions. Perhaps, given the circumstances, beloved was enough of a definition for Fitzroy. At least for now.

Beloved, came Fitzroy's ready agreement.

A wash of embarrassment flooded through Cliopher as he realized he'd stopped reading and gotten caught up in his own meanderings. Sorry.

It's all right, Fitzroy said silently, soothingly, reassuringly; he tightened his hold around Cliopher’s waist and resting his head on Cliopher's shoulder. You're allowed to not be ready to speak what's in your heart, my dear Kip. It's already far more than I could have ever hoped for or imagined simply to be able to feel it. There was truth in his fanoa's words, along with care, and love, and infinite patience. "Why don't you keep reading? I want to see how Louya's going to escape from that locked basement."

***

After their late and leisurely breakfast, Cliopher wasn't forced to attempt to use eating sticks until supper—a fact he appreciated all the more after dropping the same bite-sized piece of fish for the sixth time. "Perhaps I could simply stick to eating pastries for the next few years," he said ruefully. "Or I could just use my hands."

“Don’t even think about it, Cliopher,” Conju scolded, before remembering Fitzroy was there. “My apologies, my lord.”

Fitzroy chuckled, waving the apology away. “I meant it when I said you could relax protocol around Cliopher, Conju. You are more than welcome to speak your mind.” Fitzroy reached over to squeeze the hand Cliopher wasn't using to maneuver the eating sticks. "You're doing well, my dear Kip. You’ll get it soon enough.”

Much as he could tell his fanoa wasn't lying, Cliopher felt like a child learning how to use a fork for the first time. “Why is it that forks even count as sharp implements anyways?” he wondered, grimacing down at the piece of fish. “Knives, yes, but forks…really? Have you seen how blunt some of them are? Surely, they shouldn't all count.”

Fitzroy gave a particularly un-imperial shrug. “You can’t think too much about the rationale behind the taboos, my dear Kip. There really isn’t one. They’re simply the end result of layers upon layers of complicated, complex magical rituals being anchored to the emperor in order to bind and bring the disparate parts of the Empire of Astandalas together and to enforce certain standards on them all. Unfortunately, there were so many different bindings that even the Fall didn’t break everything. The ones still in force today are a complete mish-mash of requirements that don't make any logical sense, but still have very real magical implications.”

Like time, Cliopher couldn’t help thinking. While time flowed much better now, there were still random pockets of Zunidh where time moved faster or slower for no known or logical reason. When he’d asked for an explanation, the Ouranatha had said to stop thinking about it because doing so made the entire situation worse.

At least the priest-wizards were now working more diligently to untangle the remaining imperial taboos so they could be removed in time for Fitzroy’s quest—and Fitzroy’s heir and those that would come after her would not be subject to any taboos at all. Cliopher could be grateful for that fact, if nothing else. He repositioned the eating sticks and reached for the small bite of fish for the seventh time. He could be.

***

Almost two hours later, Cliopher finally finished the meal. He was almost certain that drinking three glasses of wine had done nothing to help his dexterity with the eating sticks, but at least they'd helped him care less about his constant fumbling.

Both Fitzroy and Conju had shown incredible patience at his distress and ineptitude. Once finished his own meal, Fitzroy had pulled his chair alongside Cliopher's and offered more practical advice—at times wrapping his own fingers around Cliopher's own to help guide the sticks to a more stable position. Cliopher refused to admit that such help was almost as distracting as it was beneficial, given how beautiful Fitzroy's hands were.

Somewhat surprisingly, Conju didn’t lament how much Cliopher dropped on the floor–or, more upsettingly, down the front of his robes. At the end of the meal, the Cavalier an Vilius simply plucked the dropped food up with a cloth, and a practical: "Don't be concerned, Cliopher. All of your robes have spells layered on them. Nothing will mark or stain, I promise you."

That thought made Cliopher feel marginally better, particularly when Fitzroy added silently, they are quite standard spells, my dear Kip. Imagine the cost of having to replace robes such as these because of a stray drip of wine or oil. After the cloth is purified, the priest-wizards assigned to the tower layer on all manner of protections—including against simple staining."

Cliopher's eyes widened. He ran his hands gently over the turquoise silk of his over robe. "Even cloth has to be purified?"

"Any materials used to make your outfits,” Conju explained. “And any cloth-based goods you use frequently—like bed linens and towels.” At Cliopher’s obvious surprise, his friend smiled gently. “I wasn't exaggerating when I suggested it would take the Ouranatha weeks to go through your apartments and conduct any necessary purifications."

"Then how did you manage at Navakiani?" Cliopher had to ask.

"I brought everything absolutely required with us. Linens, towels, sheets, dishes. Thankfully, furniture doesn't have any specific purification requirements or we'd have needed to bring a priest-wizard with us.”

Or Fitzroy would have had to do the purifications himself—which wouldn’t have left much, if any, room for a vacation. It had taken four hours just to purify Aya’s snorkelling mask, after all. “But we ate at the restaurant in Gorjo City with very little issue…"

Bubbles of amusement burbled through him. You're in for it now, Fitzroy warned silently. Conju takes the purifications incredibly seriously—far more than I would given the opportunity. I am quite certain that a great deal of it is no longer necessary these days, but I gave up on trying to argue the matter. As long as I don’t have to conduct them most of the time, I am happy to let the matter lie. Particularly now when there is, in fact, an end in sight.

Cliopher had no time to react to that striking thought as Conju made a noise that wasn't quite a snort. "You simply didn’t see the work involved, Cliopher. While you were greeting your friends, I spoke to your cousin about the need to ritually destroy the dishes his Radiancy used."

"You had Galen and Enya destroy some of their dishes?"

“Technically, Ludvic had one of the guards collect the dishes after we left,” Conju said matter-of-factly. “We brought them back here to be destroyed.”

Cliopher was honestly less surprised by the logistical issues he hadn’t noticed Conju managing in the Vangavaye-ve than the fact that neither Galen nor Enya had written to him to joke about the strange requirements after the fact. Although, surely, Conju would have ensured the restaurant was well compensated for the nuisance. "Do you do that every time Tor travels?"

Conju gave him a pointed look. At Cliopher’s obvious confusion, Fitzroy reached across the table and set his hand lightly on Cliopher's. How often do I travel, my dear Kip? he asked, rubbing a thumb down the side of Cliopher’s hand.

Not often, he answered immediately. The only time Cliopher could remember offhand was that trip to the Vangavaye-ve. Beyond that, he couldn’t remember ever travelling with Fitzroy. Of course, there’d been a great procession through the five worlds shortly after Fitzroy had been made emperor, before he himself had gone to Astandalas—

I don't remember much from that procession. Even in Cliopher's head, Fitzroy’s words were quiet, distressed, troubled. I was quite affected by the rituals that made me emperor, by…losing access to my magic. It took a long time to find myself again.

Cliopher shuddered with Fitzroy's remembered confusion, loss, pain. His heart ached with the knowledge his fanoa had had his world ripped apart over and over and over again. Twice? he asked, trying to keep to the original question, much as he wanted to recreate the Empire so he could burn it all to the ground on Fitzroy's behalf. That's all?

His fanoa shook his head. After the Fall, there were a few short trips before I named you my Hands. After that, I sent you. It was much easier that way.

I didn't realize how trapped you were here, Cliopher admitted, trying not to project the flood of guilt welling through him—that was the last thing Fitzroy needed. I wish I'd thought to suggest a vacation sooner. I'm sorry.

You've done everything for me, my dear Kip. Everything. Fitzroy's tone was soft, appreciative, adoring; there was no hint of upset or accusation in his words or in his emotions. Oh, Conju's giving us a look.

Cliopher blinked, then glanced towards his friend. At least Conju’s eyes were bright with humour rather than annoyance despite their rudeness. "My apologies, Conju," he said contritely. "I got distracted by Tor's answer. I hadn't realized how little he's left the palace."

"Never mind, Cliopher. It's only been a day. I’m sure you’ll eventually manage to have two conversations at once." Conju waved a hand dismissively, then turned to Fitzroy. "I do wonder, my lord, how people will take Cliopher's ability to talk to you silently."

A wave of worry, concern, and apprehension came from Fitzroy. Cliopher wasn’t certain what to think. No doubt their silent speech would be an utterly foreign concept to many within the Palace of Stars—and elsewhere in Zunidh—but it wasn’t as if anyone's perceptions would change any more than they already had already. “I simply hope Prince Rufus doesn’t try to assassinate me,” he said lightly, jokingly. “I expect he’s quite distraught about everything.”

"Come now, my dear Kip. Give Prince Rufus more credit. He’s not one for assassination. It’s far more likely that he'll turn into a groveling sycophant." At Cliopher’s visible shudder, his fanoa laughed heartily, worry softening to delight. "Oh, my dear Kip, how I love you. Please never change."

***

Cliopher’s second night in the Imperial Apartments had him retiring to his room feeling much more grounded than he’d been the first night. After spending most of the day together, Cliopher was comfortable parting ways with Fitzroy so he could take a leisurely bath. After washing, he relaxed in the perfectly hot water, breathing in the same scents he remembered quite vividly from the previous day: vanilla, and bergamot, and rose. The oil must be one of Conju’s creations.

Of course, it is, Fitzroy readily agreed, despite not being physically present. As if Conju would stoop to buying bath oils. Cliopher smiled fondly at the confirmation. He would have to ask Conju about the mix of scents at some point; he’d obviously thought Cliopher would enjoy the blend—which, of course, he did—but Cliopher couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted his friend to mix such distinctive scents together.

Leaving that thought for another day, Cliopher amused himself by trying to determine how many times the small—but more than acceptably-sized—tub he’d had in his quarters in the Alinorel wing would fit in his current bath. Somewhere between twelve and fourteen, he determined. Even his bath in the Lord of Zunidh’s apartments would likely fit two or three times.

Deciding he should make more of an effort to use the entire bath, Cliopher moved to the centre and floated on his back, sculling with his hands to keep from either sinking or drifting into a wall. He couldn’t help but be glad that Conju hadn’t insisted on staying; the previous day’s exceptional circumstances aside, Cliopher much preferred his privacy. I hope Ludvic never gets it in his mind to assign me a full-time guard detail.

He did raise the possibility with me, Fitzroy warned. But Ludvic’s well aware that you’d hate it. He’s agreed that as long as you're staying in the Imperial Apartments, there’s no need for you to have constant guards. There was a long pause and a vague hint of regret. I can’t promise he won’t change his mind when you go back to your own apartments, when you no longer have seven anterooms of guards and the best magical shields in Zunidh protecting you.

Cliopher put his feet down, unable to maintain his casual floating while being pummelled by potential reality. At least I'll have a month to talk him out of the idea, he said, making a mental note to start drawing up a proposal for why such a detail would be a poor use of resources. I don't know how you put up with it.

The honour guards were less than nothing compared to other things, my dear Kip. Outside of my years with the Red Company, I was always considered the Empire’s property.  As Marwn I was barely given room to think. As Emperor…

His fanoa didn’t complete the thought, but he didn’t need to. Cliopher could feel his sorrow, distress, anguish. But since the Fall? Surely you could have…

Perhaps. I never truly considered the option, Fitzroy admitted. And they have saved my life, so I can hardly argue that their presence isn’t necessary.

Cliopher grabbed for the side of the bath, curling his fingers tight around the ledge. At Navikiani, Ludvic had said that the inner perimeter had been breached four times—not including the accidental one that had occurred there—but he hadn’t mentioned that anyone had gotten so close as to threaten Fitzroy’s life.

I’m fine, my dearest Kip. I’m fine. Fitzroy’s words were soft and soothing. The incidents were many years ago now—and only two were real threats. You've already almost tied me in that regard. Had you had guards when the high priests came for you, that whole situation might have been avoided.

Iprenna might not be dead, Cliopher thought immediately.

Oh, he might still be dead, Fitzroy said, tone flat and razor sharp. But you would never have been put in jeopardy.

Cliopher didn't try to parse that thought. Instead, he clamoured out of the bath, towelled dry quickly, then pulled on his sleep robes.  Shivering—more from the idea of his fanoa being threatened than from the temperature of his rooms—he grabbed Aya's book and crawled into bed. Maybe I'll just read a few pages before bed, he thought, knowing he needed to calm down for both their sakes.

But if you read ahead, you might spoil something for me, Fitzroy practically whined.

Cliopher bit his lips to keep from laughing, knowing his fanoa was trying to make him. Would you rather I keep reading from where we left off outside? His chest radiated with the strength of Fitzroy's affirmative, agreement, approval.

***

Cliopher woke from Fitzroy’s nightmare to find he was already halfway across his bedchamber with one hand on the door to the hallway. Blinking hard, he pressed his forehead against the smooth wood, taking a few deep breaths to ground himself in the present—and to push the feeling of being suffocated as far away as he possibly could.

Fitzroy? When he didn't get an immediate answer, Cliopher pulled the door open and hurried down the hallway to the imperial bedchamber. The guards on duty—Rhodin and Pikabe, he noted absently—stepped quickly aside to avoid any potential collision, not saying a word as he rushed towards Fitzroy. Without pausing to consider his actions, Cliopher ducked through the opaque curtains and crawled onto the bed, eyes immediately going to his fanoa despite the dark of the room.

Unlike the first nightmare Cliopher had interrupted, Fitzroy was frozen, rigid, and radiating a fear and desperation that had Cliopher quickly pushing the coverlet down so he could squish himself between the sheets and Fitzroy, pulling his fanoa into his arms. "Fitzroy, I'm here. I have you,” he whispered, cuddling his fanoa close, whispering his name both out loud and silently. "Fitzroy, come back to me." Fitzroy.

Between one moment and the next, Fitzroy shuddered and wrapped his arms so tightly around Cliopher that Cliopher gasped. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere,” Cliopher promised softly.

Kip, came Fitzroy's desperate thought, even as he pressed himself tight into Cliopher's side and tucked his head into the space between Cliopher's head and shoulder.

"I'm here. You're okay. You were having another nightmare," Cliopher murmured.

Ahh, came Fitzroy's pained realization. I do apologize.

Conju had warned him that Fitzroy had recurring nightmares. Another thing his friend hadn't exaggerated. He could still feel the panic deep in his chest, the desire to hold on. He tightened his arms around his fanoa. "Do you want to talk about it?" A shudder ran through Fitzroy. "Shhh. You don't have to. It's fine. You're fine. I have you."

***

Cliopher woke at the first bell after dawn, thoroughly exhausted after holding Fitzroy for hours. He shut his eyes for a moment, happy to find his fanoa sleeping deeply, soundly, peacefully.

The darkness of the imperial bedchamber had him longing for his own room with its large windows. It occurred to him that someone had to have taken down the overhang over the windows given how much sun came through them. Prior to the Fall, there was no way there’d have been unsheltered windows in the Imperial Apartments, even in a guest chamber.

His first thought was that Fitzroy had likely ordered the modifications for him—which made him wince at what the modifications must have cost. His second thought was how much Fitzroy would probably enjoy waking to sunlight rather than to darkness. His third thought was whether–Cliopher carefully extracted himself from Fitzroy, made sure his fanoa was still sleeping, then slipped off the bed.

Ludvic and Zerafin had replaced Rhodin and Pikabe on the doors sometime in the night. The two guards didn't even bat an eyelid when he quietly padded towards them. "He had another nightmare. He's deeply asleep now," Cliopher whispered. "If you see Conju, perhaps warn him to let him sleep. He was awake for a long time."

Ludvic's lips turned up in the hint of a smile. "I will Cliopher. You didn't want to sleep more?"

He shook his head. "I wasn’t sleeping well. If I’d stayed, I’d have woken him up for certain.”

"He doesn't often get a chance to sleep in," Ludvic said. "Although it would be better if he could do so for other reasons."

Cliopher nodded in agreement, wondering what other reasons he could arrange. "I may go sit on the balcony. Is that…" He knew he didn't need to ask permission, but he also didn't want to worry Ludvic unnecessarily.

His friend immediately understood what he trying to say. "The balcony is well protected, Cliopher. You can go out there anytime without worry."

He dipped his head in gratitude, then smiled at Zerafin—who was watching him quite intently, although Cliopher wasn’t certain why as he knew he was no longer a threat—before passing between the two guards to head back to his own room to dress.

***

Cliopher was lounging on the couch under the red awning on the balcony for less than five minutes when Franzel found him. His majordomo was carrying a tray holding a cup and a small dish holding a chocolate bun. Cliopher couldn't help smiling at the sight; while the cup and plate were gold rimmed porcelain rather than the relatively simple dishware he'd used previously, the routine was familiar.

"Good-morning Franzel," he greeted, trying to push the lingering tiredness from the long night aside. He straightened up, so he could turn to face Franzel more directly. "I'm glad to see you. Is everything all right? How is everyone?"

The younger man bowed perfectly. "Good morning, Sir," he said, setting the tray down carefully in front of Cliopher—keeping his hands to the far side of the tray and his eyes glued to Cliopher's own until he’d stepped back from the table. "Everything is very well. Most of the household has taken the week off as you directed. The Ouranatha now have control over your apartments and are scheduled to start their work today."

"You didn't take any time off?" Cliopher asked, raising his eyebrows in question. "You more than deserve it. You've been so busy the last few weeks with my family…"

"I thought you might appreciate a familiar sight, Sir," Franzel said warmly. "And I already booked a significant vacation for later this year, so I thought I might add a week to that—with your permission."

"Of course.” Cliopher remembered how long it had taken to save up enough vacation time to visit home in the years after the Fall. "Let me know if you need extra time. I'm sure you've more than earned it."

"Thank you, Sir." Franzel's eyes softened with gratitude. "And you, Sir? Are you well? You're looking…a bit peaked this morning if I might say so."

Cliopher caught the hesitation in his majordomo's words. Perhaps it was their location as Franzel had never been one to mince words when he thought Cliopher looked less than well rested. "I'm fine. I didn't sleep well last night is all. Otherwise, I'm…adjusting."

At Frazel's doubtful look, Cliopher smiled ruefully. "Yes, fine, I admit it: it might take longer than I imagined to adjust to some of the taboos. It took me far too long to eat supper last night."

His majordomo nodded but remained silent, patient, open. Cliopher stared down at his coffee cup, raised it to his lips and took a long sip, then placed it carefully back on the table. Finally, cheeks warm—and not from the coffee—he added, "But it's been strangely…easy to adjust to the bond with Tor. Natural. Like we were…always meant to be this close."

Franzel’s expression seemed soft, very soft. "I am very glad, Sir.”

Something in his majordomo’s easy acceptance of his description made his eyes water. Cliopher swallowed audibly, then coughed. "I thought Conju wanted you to do some kind of training before…"

Franzel took the change in topic with ease. "Oh yes. There is much I need to learn before I'll be capable of managing all the requirements for you, Sir," Franzel said, surprisingly cheerfully. "But I wanted to do what I could in the meantime. Even Lord Conju had to agree that bringing you coffee and whatnot isn't much of a risk. Particularly when his Radiancy's chef actually does the preparations. I simply told her what you preferred in the morning.”

"I'll be glad to see you, then," Cliopher said honestly. Much as he appreciated the massive amount of work Conju was doing to help him while also attending Fitzroy, he already looked forward to the day when his friend could go back to primarily being his friend.

Franzel bowed. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Sir?"

Cliopher thought about his determination the night before to write a proposal relating to his security. "Would you be able to bring me some writing materials? I believe my nephew has my writing kit, but anything really would do. I'd just like to make a few notes."

***

Cliopher knew when Fitzroy woke up fully; there was a rush of sudden worry and an urgent thought: Cliopher?

I'm out on your balcony, he sent immediately, calmly, reassuringly. I didn't want to wake you.

Hmmm, came his fanoa's non-verbal response, but his worry faded so Cliopher knew he’d been mollified for the moment. He continued to work on his notes, keeping a figurative ear open for Fitzroy. He caught nothing stressful or urgent, simply the occasional stray thought as his fanoa bathed, took his morning swim, then dressed.

As the fourth bell after dawn rang, Fitzroy’s thoughts crystalized into intentional words. Are you still outside, my dear Kip? Would you like some breakfast?

I'd love it. Do you want to come out here, or should I come in?

We'll come there.

Cliopher tidied his papers into a pile and capped the enchanted pen Franzel had provided, then set everything to the side of the table. He swallowed the last of his coffee, knowing Conju would have a fresh pot with him. Just as he set his cup down, the doors opened and Fitzroy came out onto the balcony, followed by Ludvic and Zerafin, then Conju carrying a tray.

"Good morning, my dear Kip," Fitzroy said, sliding onto the couch next to Cliopher rather than taking the seat opposite. "You look exhausted. I'm sorry I woke you up."

Cliopher reached for his fanoa's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I’m glad you did. I wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else. I don't care if it's the middle of the night or in some other world, if you need me, I'll be there.”

Fitzroy's eyes widened at Cliopher’s vehement promise, then he smiled spectacularly. People who’d met the poet had described Fitzroy Angursell’s legendary smiles as splendid, magnificent, blazing. His fanoa’s smile was all of these things—and aimed directly at him. Dizzy, Cliopher reached his free hand up to Fitzroy’s face and ran his thumb down the side of that brilliant smile, completely mesmerized.

The sound of Conju setting his tray on the table was barely audible, but it broke Cliopher’s reverie. He snatched his hand away, embarrassed. He met Fitzroy’s eyes, the wash of magic almost easy after the effects of his fanoa’s smile. Fitzroy was near humming with amusement—gentle, appreciative, adoring.

“Thank you, Conju,” Fitzroy said after a while, reminding Cliopher that they weren’t alone.

Cliopher finally found his manners and looked to his friend—who’d finished setting up breakfast and was placing Cliopher’s notes and pen on his tray. Conju gave him an almost apologetic look. He raised an eyebrow in query, but Conju simply let out a soft sigh. “I’ll leave these in your room for you, Cliopher.”

***

After another leisurely breakfast—more accurately, brunch given noon had come and gone—they lingered over pots of tea and coffee and a plateful of ginger biscuits. Fitzroy had raised the wall of silence early in the meal, a fact Cliopher was grateful for given he’d made the mistake of saying how delicious the ginger biscuits were, particularly dipped in his coffee.

“But you’ve never tasted Jullanar’s version, my dear Kip,” Fitzroy said, disconsolately—not that it stopped him from taking a biscuit and reaching over to dunk it in Cliopher’s coffee. “I’m telling you, Jullanar’s gingersnaps are pure magic.”

It was impossible not to feel the pang of longing Fitzroy felt at the thought of Jullanar of the Sea’s biscuits. While he was certain Fitzroy was glad to finally be able to talk about his friends to someone, his emotions skipped between sadness, regret, and desperate longing—and upset, anger, and even fury.  Cliopher could understand the kurakura of emotions only too well, given his challenges getting his own family to understand him. The crosscurrents of emotions had to be so much worse for his fanoa—because there was no doubt that the Red Company was his family.

Cliopher knew, from thoughts Fitzroy refused to speak and didn’t want to acknowledge, that he was desperately afraid that his friends hadn't cared enough to seek him out and rescue him—that they couldn't forgive him for being unable to tell them the truth, that they'd simply…forgotten him. Cliopher wasn't sure what to do with this knowledge, or how to even begin to ameliorate it. He wanted to hunt down the Red Company himself and demand to know why they hadn't rescued his beloved, his fanoa, his Fitzroy—their Fitzroy.

"There's no need," Fitzroy told him gently—making Cliopher aware of how loud he was thinking.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Fitzroy leaned into Cliopher's shoulder companionably. "I'm…not anymore. If they'd rescued me then, I wouldn't be here with you now. And Zunidh would not be as well off as it is today. Lady Jivane would not have been able to do what I have done—what we have done.”

Cliopher didn't want to imagine the world without the Lights. Without the sea train. Without the postal service. He'd seen it. He’d lived it. He’d journeyed across the shattered remains and storm-wracked waters of Zunidh for months, and years, and centuries on that long, long, long journey home after the Fall. He didn’t want to imagine how that broken world would have deteriorated even further without his fanoa to heal it. No, the world was far better for what they'd accomplished together, with Fitzroy’s magic and Cliopher’s dedication to good government and the effective stewardship of public resources. It would become even better before Fitzroy gave care of the world over to his heir.

"The Red Company may have saved me, given the opportunity," Fitzroy continued, tone light, but the well of emotions beneath strong and certain and sure. "But you, my dear Kip—you saved me while also saving the world."

Warmth rushed to Kip's cheeks. The compliment was far too much, despite knowing Fitzroy meant every word. Unable to take his fanoa’s words too seriously, he schooled his face to seriousness and said, "Well, my dear Fitzroy, you should know by now that I have always been an overachiever."

 After they both stopped laughing, Cliopher tried to find a less weighty topic of conversation. “Now, you told me to ask you about Ser Rhodin’s special investigations…”

***

Cliopher wasn’t sure how to respond to Fitzroy’s somewhat convoluted explanation of Rhodin’s special investigations—to the fact they had nothing at all to do with the security of the Sun-on-Earth or Zunidh, but rather with the guard's quest for enlightenment and his determination to find his telepathic dinosaur soulmate. “And I thought Rhodin was the practical one,” he finally managed.

"Oh, he is," Fitzroy assured. "He simply also has some…very unique ideas about the world."

Cliopher laughed. "He'd get along with my cousin Louya then.” At Fitzroy's raised eyebrow, he clarified, "She's the cousin who is always writing to me about one conspiracy or another. She'd probably be delighted to learn about telepathic dinosaurs.”

"I am sure Ser Rhodin would be overjoyed to have someone else to share his theories with,” Fitzroy said, shaking his head in obvious amusement. “You should certainly recommend that he write to her—and perhaps assign him to investigating her more entertaining theories. I expect he’d enjoy it."

"Rhodin does seem to be quite good at attracting conspiracy theorists of all kinds. Do you know of his great correspondence with Sardeet Avaramapul?"

Fitzroy's tea sloshed over the edge of his cup. "What?"

Oh. Cliopher realized what he'd just said—and more importantly, that he’d said it to the real Fitzroy Angursell. Ah—

Fitzroy's eyes were large, his hands shaking. Will you explain?

It’s not like that—I’m sorry. She’s…Cliopher shifted closer to Fitzroy, wrapped his fanoa’s trembling hands in his own. He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts before he caused Fitzroy to have another heart attack by accident. "A few years ago, Rhodin was given a letter from someone who insisted that she was Sardeet Avramapul of the Red Company. You must know of the dozens of pretenders there have been over the years?”

Fitzroy shook his head, his utter shock telling Cliopher that no, he hadn’t been told about any of the pretenders. Cliopher grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “Its not…well, it’s not as if Rhodin would know you’d be interested. And no one truly wants any of the Red Company arrested these days. I imagine it’s quite high on the list of taboo topics during an imperial audience...”

“Yes,” Fitzroy said simply, his emotions a mess of confusion, sadness, yearning. “Go on. About Sardeet.”

Cliopher nodded guiltily. “I don’t know everything. Apparently, she wrote quite a long letter that Rhodin immediately dismissed as ridiculous. But he wrote back and they struck up a correspondence. She’s on Voonra I think. Owns a bakery.”

“You don’t suppose…” Fitzroy said, very, very softly, hopefully, desperately.

“Rhodin surely didn’t think so,” Cliopher said gently. “But after all you’ve told me about his theories, perhaps I shouldn’t discount the idea.”

“It would be quite ridiculous to learn that my spymaster has been corresponding with one of the Red Company without anyone’s knowledge for years.”

“Do you want me to ask him more about her?”

Fitzroy’s emotions screamed yes, but he answered, “No.” At Cliopher’s obvious, if unvoiced, question, Fitzroy sighed wearily. “What good would it do, my dear Kip? Even if I knew it was indeed Sardeet, I could not go to her. And I’d hesitate to imagine Ser Rhodin’s response if he learned I was interested. And he’d know immediately if you brough it up. You’re good at many things, my Kip, but deception is not one of them.”

Cliopher wanted to voice an objection, but Fitzroy wasn’t wrong. His stomach churned with guilt, sadness, regret. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not, my dear Kip.” I’m not. Fitzroy rested his head gently on Cliopher’s shoulder. “I want you to tell me these things. I want you to tell me everything.” He paused, then let out a slow, sad breath—but one underpinned by the barest kindling of hope. “And, perhaps, I could begin my quest for an heir on Voonra.”

***

Cliopher's third night in the Imperial Apartments had him intensely worried for his fanoa. As he was preparing for bed, he could still feel a deep sense of grief, of desolation, of despondency coming from Fitzroy. It made him want to quiz Rhodin about his correspondent, regardless of the ramifications, if only to prove that she truly wasn’t truly Sardeet Avramapul of the Red Company. But Cliopher held his tongue, knowing that the decision wasn’t his to make.

The gloomy feelings coming from his fanoa didn’t make him confident that Fitzroy would make it through the night without having another nightmare. But Cliopher didn’t want to bring up the possibility because he knew from experience that even considering the potential for a nightmare could easily spark one. He wanted to shift Fitzroy’s thoughts and feelings entirely, while making it easy to be there for him if a nightmare did come. Why don’t you sleep here? he offered, studiously trying not to think about nightmares—or anything else for that matter.

Fitzroy’s emotions sharpened into interest, delight, desire. Are you sure?

He smiled to himself, realizing there was no reason not to be completely honest. I think I sleep better when you're close. His fanoa made an inarticulate noise in his head, but his agreement blazed through them both.

Cliopher finished putting on his sleep robe and headed out into his bedroom. He didn’t have long to wait before Fitzroy came bounding through the door, in bare feet like he’d arrived after midnight the first night. Cliopher struggled not to smile.

His fanoa's honour guards, Elish and Oginu for the moment, followed Fitzroy in and gave Cliopher crisp salutes before taking their positions at the door. He wasn’t certain why he rated a salute in that particular moment, but he expected it had something to do with them coming into his room, a sign of politeness perhaps. After nodding to the guards, he turned entirely to Fitzroy—who'd taken the time sprawl like a sea-star across the bed. Cliopher burst out laughing.

"Too much?" Fitzroy said raising his head, grinning.

"Well, I suppose I could go lay similar claim to your bed. But given its size, I suspect you wouldn't even notice."

"I like yours better," Fitzroy said, running his hand down the blue coverlet. I admit I do get a bit weary of white and black and yellow and gold.

As Cliopher reached the side of the bed, Fitzroy shifted completely over to the far side, bringing the coverlet with him so Cliopher could get in, before setting it back down. He then managed to noodle his way under it a feat of commitment that had Cliopher laughing for its utter ridiculousness. Apparently getting off the bed to get under the covers was simply too much work—or perhaps Fitzroy was trying to distract himself, or Cliopher, or both of them.

Cliopher could appreciate that, so he continued to chuckle until Fitzroy pressed close to his side and finally settled, resting his head above Cliopher's heart. Without thinking, Cliopher wrapped an arm around Fitzroy's back, holding him close. As Fitzroy's warmth and satisfaction infused him, he smiled softly, delightedly, impossibly. How they'd crossed such a wide divide so easily in such a short time, he couldn't begin to understand. All he knew was that they were both exactly where they were meant to be.

***

On Cliopher's fourth night in the Imperial Apartments, Fitzroy gave him a questioning look after dinner—paired with hints of hope Cliopher was almost certain his fanoa was trying to hide.

"Of course, you're welcome," Cliopher said out loud, certain his own feelings more than conveyed the truth of the simple invitation. "But only if you want to."

***

On the fifth morning of Cliopher's stay in the Imperial Apartments, two pairs of night slippers appeared by Cliopher's bed—he could not conceivably call it their bed since they were sleeping together but not…well, sleeping together—one set in midnight blue and one in white and gold. Fitzroy insisted on taking the blue ones, much to Cliopher's infinite amusement. Perhaps Conju's as well, but his friend never mentioned the slippers at all. Despite giving him occasional looks Cliopher couldn't interpret, Conju kept decidedly, purposefully, resolutely mum about the whole matter of sleeping arrangements.

Chapter Text

The day before the end of the worldwide holiday celebrating his bonding with the Sun-on-Earth—or, more appropriately, the Sun-on-Earth's bonding with him—Cliopher realized that he had no idea where he was going to work.

Since being named Lord Chancellor, he'd worked primarily from the Lord of Zunidh's apartments, but those would be off limits for weeks yet given the Ouranatha's need to conduct the necessary purification rituals.

Optically, he couldn't take his old space in the private offices back for a month either. Even without the taboos to manage, doing so would send the wrong message. He'd passed on his role as Secretary in Chief of the Private Offices of the Lords of State specifically so there wouldn't be any perceived conflicts of interest. Setting up an office there, even with strict separation, simply wouldn't do.

Standing at the railing of Fitzroy’s balcony, Cliopher sipped the coffee Franzel had brought him and pondered his options—quietly, so he didn't wake his fanoa. Fitzroy certainly enjoyed sleeping in, much more so than he himself did. Not that he was averse to the occasional lazy morning, but it was a rare day when he didn't naturally wake before dawn. Habit, Cliopher supposed.

He would have thought his fanoa would have developed a similar habit but the past few days had proven otherwise. He'd felt Fitzroy's ease, joy, and sheer pleasure at waking mid-morning to the sun streaming in through the windows of Cliopher's room. And given his fanoa had slept in the windowless imperial bedchamber for nearly a thousand years, Cliopher wasn't going to disturb his enjoyment of what had to be a novel experience.

Tomorrow, they'd need to get back to some semblance of a routine—meaning they'd both likely be up before dawn. Although, perhaps Cliopher could convince Conju that it was in Fitzroy's best interest to get a lie-in at least once a week. Surely that wouldn't be too much to ask. The last thing anyone wanted was for the Sun-on-Earth to have another heart attack after all.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Cliopher considered whether he might be able to take over one of the smaller audience chambers for an office. As he mentally reviewed the different options, he heard the faint chime of someone opening the balcony door. He turned, expecting to see his majordomo coming to ask if he might like more coffee. And yes, it was Franzel carrying a well-laden tray, but right on his heels were Conju and Ludvic. As always, Conju was dressed fashionably and impeccably. Ludvic, however, wore his undress uniform—a rarity to see in the Imperial Apartments, although all it truly meant was that he was neither coming on nor going off duty with Fitzroy.

The three men stopped just outside the balcony door, Ludvic giving a perfect salute while Conju and Franzel both bowed. How Franzel managed to bow so elegantly while carrying a tray laden with two small carafes of what was most likely coffee, additional cups, and two plates of pastries, Cliopher didn't know. He raised a curious eyebrow. "Conju, Ludvic, good morning. Franzel, you know there’s no need to stand on ceremony. Why don’t you put the tray down?"

“Let him do it, Cliopher,” Conju admonished. “Franzel is practicing for when you have formal guests.”

Cliopher managed not to roll his eyes, much as he wanted to. With the exception of adhering to the taboos, he had no idea why he needed to be any more formal with visitors now than he’d been prior to the bonding ceremony. But he’d already learned not to interfere with Conju’s management of the imperial household—which, for now, included Cliopher’s own household. As Fitzroy had told him earlier in the week, Conju took his job very seriously; far be it for Cliopher to argue.

“Now,” Conju said once he realized Cliopher wasn’t going to make a fuss. "Ludvic and I were hoping to speak with you. Is now a good time?"

Cliopher felt the weight of his friend’s formal request. In the week since the ceremony, he'd mostly managed to keep Conju from getting too worked up about his new position—issues of etiquette notwithstanding—in part because he'd agreed to let his friends demark friendly and formal situations as required. Whatever Conju and Ludvic wanted to discuss, it was obviously the latter.

"Of course," he said, nodding to acknowledge the request. "I see Franzel has brought coffee, so let’s sit down.” He studiously avoided mentioning that if this had been an actual formal situation, Conju would have arranged for the coffee to show up after Cliopher had agreed to the discussion rather than at the same time. Instead, he led them over to the seats under the red awning. After sitting down in what had already become his usual spot on the couch, he gestured for his friends to take the chairs on the other side of the table.

Once Conju and Ludvic were settled, Franzel carefully set out the dishes. First, he placed teacups and saucers in front of Ser Rhodin and Commander Omo. Then he set one of the plates of pastries between them, before placing the other plate in front of Cliopher. "More coffee, sir?"

"Yes, please." Only after Cliopher had set his cup down and pulled his hands back did Franzel refill it from one of the carafes on his tray. Cliopher’s majordomo then used the second carafe to fill Ludvic and Conju's cups. “Thank you.” Cliopher said appreciatively.

Franzel smiled, his eyes bright with respect but also good humour.

"Well done," Conju said to Franzel. "Although next time you should place everything for Cliopher down first before you set out anything for his guests. Much as Cliopher might wish otherwise, it is both the correct action given his rank and the safest way to avoid accidentally breaking one of the related taboos. The only exception, of course, is if you're serving both Cliopher and his Radiancy. In that case, serve his Radiancy first as it's what Cliopher would want."

Before Cliopher could voice agreement with that particular instruction, Conju shot him an amused look. "Don't get too excited Cliopher. I'll be serving you first because it's what his Radiancy would want."

“But you just instructed Franzel to serve me first in any other situation. So, surely Tor should always be served first when we are both present?”

“At some point, Cliopher, you’re going to have to accept that his Radiancy has determined that you are his equal. As such, neither of you has precedence in any given situation. As such, his Radiancy’s household will follow his Radiancy’s preferences, while your own household will follow yours.”

“But I’m not the Last Emperor, nor can I use Tor’s magic,” Cliopher argued. “I would think those facts alone would be an indication that, much as the magic might see us as the same, we aren’t quite. Giving precedence to Tor makes the most sense. Anything else will simply rile people up, don’t you think? The princes hate me enough as it is. Why not simply give them this? It’s certainly not important to me.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Cliopher. You’ll see the truth for yourself soon enough.” Conju sighed and rubbed his forehead. “If any of the princes have an issue, I am certain his Radiancy will take care of it.”

Rather than consider that particular thought, Cliopher took several deep breaths. He could sense Fitzroy starting to wake and didn’t want this to be the conversation he woke up to. He pointedly turned to his majordomo. “Thank you for everything, Franzel.”

His majordomo bowed perfectly, but he paired it with a small smile. Franzel, at least, seemed to appreciate Cliopher’s point of view. “Is there anything else you need, Sir?” When Cliopher shook his head, Franzel nodded perfunctorily to Conju and Ludvic, bowed once more to Cliopher, then turned and made for the balcony doors.

Cliopher took another deep breath and a long sip of his refreshed coffee before glancing between his friends. "I expect you didn't ask for a meeting just to give Franzel a test."

"No,” Ludvic agreed, readily accepting Cliopher's shift in conversation. "We wanted to discuss plans for the next few weeks."

"Oh! I was thinking about that right before you arrived.”

"Of course, you were," Ludvic said, not even trying to hide his smile. "I'm honestly surprised the issue didn't cross your mind sooner. I thought you’d ask me about plans days ago."

 At Cliopher's embarrassed look, the Commander of the Imperial Guard laughed. "You’ve been more than a bit preoccupied, Cliopher. And rightfully so. But this was something easily dealt with on our end. Conju’s already set up an office for you.”

"You did? Where? When?"

Conju huffed. “You’ve spent much of this week wrapped up in his Radiancy, Cliopher. That left me plenty of time to furnish an office for you. It’s off the seventh anteroom—same as his Radiancy’s study."

"But there isn't another room off—" Cliopher cut himself off at the twinkle in his friend’s eyes. "Ah…more hidden hallways?"

“Yes. Not that any of them are hidden from you anymore,” Conju explained. “If you like, I’ll show you after this. It’s much smaller than his Radiancy's study, but I expect it will do given that you aren’t one to pace.”

His fanoa paced. His Tor. His Fitzroy Angursell. Cliopher's heart ached at the reminder of how trapped Fitzroy had been and for how long: so long he’d paced grooves in the floor.

My dear Kip, what's wrong? Fitzroy was wide awake now, doing the one thing Cliopher had been hoping to avoid—worrying about him.

I'm fine, Cliopher sent back, trying to convey reassurance. I'm talking to Conju and Ludvic about where I'm going to work.

Conju set up an office for you.

He just told me. I'm sure it’ll work.

Anything Conju does, he does well. Despite the hint of humour coming through their bond, Fitzroy’s worry didn’t subside. Do you need me?

No. I promise I’m fine—simply thinking too much about the past. Cliopher forcibly pushed his concerns to the side. Enjoy your swim. I'll see you for lunch.

If you do need me…

Cliopher smiled fondly at his fanoa’s care and concern. He imagined his pleasure was easy enough for Fitzroy to feel, so he turned his attention back to Conju and Ludvic. His friends were watching him, patient yet obviously amused. At some point they’d start getting annoyed by his propensity to wander off mid-conversation, but for now they seemed happy enough to wait him out.

"I apologize," he told them, cheeks warm with embarrassment. At least this time, he remembered what they'd been discussing. "I'm certain it’s perfect, Conju. Thank you for taking care of it. The best thought I had was taking over one of the smaller audience halls."

“That would have been a good alternative,” Conju agreed. “But there’s no need to make things more difficult for the guard when there’s appropriate space here.”

Cliopher glanced over at Ludvic, who nodded. "If you set up an office elsewhere, I’d have to assign a squad of guards to monitor the vicinity. Here, those guards are already in place. The only addition will be your personal guard.”

“Didn’t you say that I didn’t need guards in the Imperial Apartments?”

“You don’t need guards in the private areas, Cliopher. And I haven’t insisted on your having them here yet since no one outside the household has been allowed past the first anteroom this week. And the balcony itself is magically hidden to anyone not on the balcony or in his Radiancy’s study.” Ludvic gave him a sympathetic look. “As of tomorrow, that will need to change because more people will be coming and going through the public rooms. While the private areas will remain locked down magically, on this side of the ivory door, you’ll have a pair of guards at all times. The same will be true when you venture out of the Imperial Apartments.”

Before Cliopher could interject, the commander added, “His Radiancy insisted, Cliopher. The guards aren’t only for your safety; they’re for everyone else’s. Anyone guarding you will be drawn from his Radiancy’s close guard. We’re all as well versed on the taboos as any of his Radiancy’s personal attendants.”

In other words, the guards would be able to keep him from breaking a taboo entirely by accident. Cliopher found he couldn’t argue the point given he’d failed the etiquette portion of the Imperial Bureaucratic Service exams five times, not to mention looked Fitzroy in the eye during their very first meeting. “I expect that will be useful. I’m trying, but—”

“You’re doing very well. Becoming comfortable with the taboos isn’t going to happen overnight.” Ludvic paused for a long moment, then added drily,” The guards will also be there in case you start talking to his Radiancy silently and forget that the rest of the world exists.”

Cliopher felt a rush of heat. “Right. I can’t even pretend that won’t be an issue, can I?” He shrugged ruefully. “What about when I go elsewhere—do you need advance warning?”

Ludvic shook his head. “It’s not our job to restrict your movements, Cliopher. Like with his Radiancy, we’ll work around anything you want to do.” The commander took a sip of his coffee. “What I would like to be kept abreast of is any routine plans that someone intending you harm could use to set up a trap. By having your office here, we’ll cut off the most tempting opportunities, but if you need to be in the same place at the same time each week or something, I’ll ensure there are extra guards in place to keep an eye on things. With your permission, I’ll ask your secretaries to provide me with a copy of your schedule on a regular basis.”

"Of course," Cliopher managed. It was difficult to think of himself as a target, but he knew that he was the weak point in his bond with Fitzroy. The last thing he wanted to do was put his fanoa at risk, which meant he couldn't intentionally put himself at risk.

While he couldn’t fight off a potential attacker—neither physically nor with magic—he could make a concerted effort to improve his fitness so that he could respond quicker in the event of an attack. Although living and working in the same place for a time would make that task more difficult. He’d grown to rely on the need to traipse up and down the Palace of Stars’ many, many stairs to keep in decent shape—decent shape for a bureaucrat anyway.

At least if he wasn’t constantly running different places, he’d have more time to focus on other forms of exercise. His thoughts immediately turned to Aoteketetana and to the other traditional dances; he’d neglected them entirely in the weeks since Fitzroy’s heart attack—and had barely managed to carve out fifteen-minute blocks of time for dancing since he’d been made Lord Chancellor.

He knew he could do better—had to do better. But dancing presented its own challenges. With his own apartments out of commission, Cliopher didn’t even have a place where he could practice. Unless… "I don't suppose there's an empty room in the apartments that I could use regularly as well?" he asked Conju very hesitantly.

"Of course," his friend immediately agreed, not even asking for details much to Cliopher’s amazement. “I can have the room next to yours cleared this afternoon. Would you prefer it completely empty, or—"

Cliopher raised his eyebrows at the effusiveness of his friend’s response. "Well, if you have any spare mats—nothing fancy, mind you—I could use them to cover the floor. And some charcoal or chalk?"

Conju smiled as if Cliopher had given him an unexpected gift rather than additional work. "That won't be a problem at all, Cliopher. I’ll see what I can find this afternoon."

"Are you sure it's not too much of an imposition?"

"You're living here for the moment, Cliopher,” Conju chided gently. “You're allowed to ask for things. Clearing a room and arranging for some mats is nothing.”

"But you're doing so much for me already—"

The Cavalier an Vilius huffed. "I don't think you realize how delighted everyone is to have you here, Cliopher. Even without considering your official position, you make his Radiancy so very happy. Anyone in the Tower would do anything for you. Anything.”

***

Not surprisingly, the office Conju had furnished for Cliopher’s use was beautiful.

Even without magic hiding it from view, the door to his interim office was nearly impossible to spot, hidden as it was by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that plastered the walls of the seventh anteroom. The mirrors were an aesthetic choice Cliopher had always wondered at given that when the Imperial Apartments had been designed the Emperors of Astandalas had quite literally glowed and looking them in the eye, even by accident, had caused blindness. Whether the mirrors had been intended as a trap or as a warning for anyone about to enter the Presence, he’d never learned.

Looking at the mirrors with a fresh eye, Cliopher shuddered at how appalling it must have been each time Fitzroy had had to pass through the chamber before the Fall. His own eyes hurt thinking of it. So many mirrors. So many reflections. So much light.

There wasn’t much of me to care at the time, my dear Kip, came Fitzroy’s almost inaudible thought. His fanoa's unspoken distress knotted in Cliopher's chest. He caught the impression of thoughts his Fitzroy was trying to bury—how his time as emperor had been full of devastating moments, painful, agonizing, torturous. Next to so much else, a room full of mirrors had not even caught his notice.

Heart aching, Cliopher tried to focus on the now open doorway leading to his office. It was an elegant room, simply decorated in imperial colours—white and gold, several soft shades of yellow. A large golden oak desk drew the eye, backed as it was by a large window covered by ornately carved shutters. A comfortable looking padded chair was situated on the window side of the desk, while three simpler chairs sat in a pleasing row opposite. A matching secretary's desk sat against the nearest wall—also with a comfortable chair, Cliopher was glad to see.

An empty fireplace blocked by a gold-painted grill centered the wall opposite the desk, bracketed by built-in bookshelves. While many of the shelves were empty, three were filled with neatly organized reference books. Curious to see what Conju thought might be important, Cliopher stepped closer. His eyes widened as he recognized that the books were his own.

"Books don't typically need to be purified," Conju explained at his questioning look. "Your secretaries identified the ones you reference most frequently. The Ouranatha put them through a short purification ritual to be complete, then sent them up here. If you need any others, we can have them sent up fairly quickly."

Cliopher nodded in acknowledgement, running his hands over some of the leather bindings. One entire row was taken up by the Law Code of Astandalas. His fingertips paused on the last volume. He wondered if anyone had opened it—but surely, he'd have heard if they had. Surely.

What's so special about the Law Code? Fitzroy wondered. Unless you need help to fall asleep?

Cliopher chuckled under his breath. When you visit, you can see for yourself. Turning to Conju, he made an effort to smile—not that it was difficult. "Thank you Conju. I am certain this will work perfectly well for my needs.”

***

After enjoying an entire week with Fitzroy, giving their bond time to settle without the cares of the world pressing down on them, Cliopher woke feeling anxious, worried, regretful, and a fair bit reluctant. All he wanted was more time—to stay in bed, Fitzroy curled tight around him and radiating warmth.

He knew his fanoa wasn't asleep, much as Fitzroy wasn't moving; his worries echoed Cliopher's own, but with an undercurrent of deep-seated contentment rather than reluctance. Fitzroy was so used to having so little time to himself that it hadn't occurred to him to want more; he was simply glad to have had the week of grace at all.

Cliopher turned in Fitzroy's arms, leaning his head more comfortably against Fitzroy’s chest. How can this feel so normal?

He felt Fitzroy's smile. "Because we've known each other for a thousand years, my dear Kip."

Cliopher shivered at those words, at Fitzroy's adoration, his certainty, his love. It was impossible to contemplate the depth of emotion there; it was too much like diving for a flame pearl—the water too deep, too dark, too treacherous.

As the dawn bell rang, Cliopher heard the door open. Grateful for the distraction, he raised his head to find Conju and Franzel entering near silently—one carrying cups, the other a plate of pastries. It appears we should get up. With a regretful sigh, Cliopher began to extract himself from Fitzroy’s arms.

"Mmm," Fitzroy agreed, although he waited until Cliopher was off the bed and sliding into his slippers before moving himself.

***

They ate together in their night robes as the sun rose, slowly lightening the sky beyond the window. "What are your plans for this morning, my dear Kip?" Fitzroy asked once they'd both had a few bites of their chosen pastries and a few sips of what had turned out to be chocolate.

"I'll speak with my secretaries first. I expect they got up early to prioritize anything urgent," Cliopher said, wincing at the mound of work that would likely be urgent now given the weeks it had been since Fitzroy’s heart attack had sent so much into disarray. "After that, I'll speak to Kiri and Aioru if they're free." He could only hope Kiri and Aioru hadn't had any difficulties settling into a routine, although he expected it would be a while yet before Aioru would be ready to take full ownership of his new position. "Is there anything you need from them?"

"I suppose I should appoint a new secretary," Fitzroy said, tone somewhat exasperated although he smiled at Cliopher. “I have found your abilities a rare jewel, my dear Kip. No one else has even come close to your knowledge and capabilities. I would steal one of your own secretaries if I didn't appreciate how much you will need their excellence over the next couple of years."

Cliopher sipped his chocolate, thinking hard. "Kiri’s told me time and again that Zaoul, Tully, my nephew, and Lord Eldo are the best of the junior secretaries to come through the Service in years. While you could have Lord Eldo for yourself as he's not officially one of mine, perhaps you might like to—” He paused, turning the idea over in his head to make sure it was reasonable. “—share the four of them? They are all quite talented in different areas and they work excellently together. You may have seen that when you dropped in on us that one day."

Fitzroy's emotions flared with interest, approval, excitement. "That’s a wonderful idea, my dearest Kip. Sharing secretaries would also send a very pointed message to the court."

"Message?” Cliopher frowned. “I was simply considering what might work best—for you, for us." Cliopher focused on the benefits, trying to suppress the niggling part of him that knew if they shared secretaries, he’d probably see Fitzroy a lot more often throughout the day than he might otherwise.

"I know. And that only makes it a more delightful proposition."

Dare I ask?

I am not certain you want to know. You have enough to worry about today.

If Fitzroy thought it might upset him...Is this about how magic sees us?

Fitzroy's emotions answered the question before he did. We won’t be able to hide the depth of our connection, my dear Kip.

Cliopher couldn't argue with that. Not when they regularly lapsed into silent conversation between one moment and the next.

Sharing secretaries would be a constant reminder that we aren’t separate anymore. That we are two parts of a whole—two hands, two sandals, two sides of a shell. Warmth rushed through Cliopher at the comparison. As much as he'd avoided the discussion about fanoa, Fitzroy had obviously picked up a lot of meaning from his stray thoughts.

Enough to know that it could be a word for us—that it describes us already, even if you haven’t spoken of it, even if you haven’t defined it, even if you’re regretting—

Fitzroy's sharp pang of doubt stabbed, wounded, burned. "I love you," Cliopher said quietly, simply, out loud. He didn't glance at Fitzroy's guards; he didn't want to know what they thought of his bald statement.

Fitzroy stared at him for the longest time. Cliopher let their eyes meet, let Fitzroy's magic cascade through him, through them. Fitzroy blinked, shook his head. "The efficiency of your set-downs Kip. It's quite remarkable."

"It's not a set-down," Cliopher whispered, barely audible. He could feel Fitzroy's skepticism, uncertainty, disbelief. He couldn't… couldn't let it stand.

"The word—Fanoa—it means the tiny white shells you find on the beach—the common ones, the ordinary ones. It also means a matched set of different things—the meaning you're using right now—two hands, two sandals, two sides of a clam’s shell. It can also mean trading partners.” Cliopher took a deep, shuddering breath. His heart was beating so hard, so fast, so loud. "The other meaning, the one I haven't—it's archaic. It means the greatest of friends. Like Elonoa'a and Aurelius Magnus were always said to be.”

Shaking hard, Cliopher desperately wanted to end the definition there, but this was a challenge song and he would not, could not, stop. Not when the song was singing so clearly for him, for them. “No, it means…more than that. It’s the person who is—who is your everything."

"Everything?" Fitzroy asked, softly, so softly.

Cliopher clenched his eyes shut, soul bared naked, desperately afraid, desperately terrified. "Everything."

There was a long pause, possibly the longest pause of his life. Cliopher held his breath, shivered in the silence of it. He tried not to think. He tried not to feel.

"My dear Kip, look at me. Please." Fitzroy’s instruction was gentle, quiet, close.

He opened his eyes to find Fitzroy had come around the table and was kneeling at his side. All Cliopher felt was numb as Fitzroy grasped his hands, wrapped them in blazing warmth. "My dear Kip," Fitzroy said, words soft and admonishing. "Why would you think you mean anything less than everything to me too?"

Cliopher startled and looked up, met Fitzroy's shimmering golden eyes and felt the resonance of his magic, his adoration, his love. "But how?" he whispered. "But why?"

Fitzroy smiled ruefully, fondly, affectionately. "You ask that as if I didn't fall half in love with you the moment you first walked into my study." He shook his head. "The better question, my dear Kip, is how could I not?"

Mesmerized by the pure, brilliant, captivating feelings exuding from Fitzroy, Cliopher leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Their breaths tumbled together, their emotions tumbled together, their thoughts tumbled together—creating a magic that was theirs alone. In that moment of perfect alignment, of understanding even he couldn't deny, Cliopher found himself saying, "My beloved Tor. You are my fanoa. My match. My everything. Will you let me be yours?"

Fitzroy beamed brighter than even the sun ever could. "Not let, my dear Kip," he chided ever-so-gently. "You already are."

***

It had to be a gift from the Son of Laughter that one of the most emotionally fraught moments of Cliopher's life—and the culmination of a dream, a viau he’d barely allowed himself to lay claim to—was interrupted far-to-quickly by Conju.  The Cavalier an Vilius entirely missed the guards' attempt to diplomatically forestall him, hurrying past them to remind his Radiancy that he had scheduled a meeting at the next bell with the Mother of the Mountains, the wizard-abbess who had kindly stepped up to watch over the magical health of Zunidh during their holiday, and to suggest that perhaps he might like to consider getting ready.

Fitzroy, well used to such interruptions, simply gave Cliopher a rueful grin and stood up. That’s what we get for not having this discussion until now. But just you wait. I’ll be the best fanoa. I promise.

Cliopher laughed. It’s not a competition, my dear Fitzroy.

“Isn’t it?” Fitzroy winked shamelessly, then practically danced out the door, trailed by his not quite stone-faced guards and an utterly baffled Conju.

***

Cliopher knew he should have seen it coming, but after a week of wearing his casual robes—or at least what passed as casual to Feonie—he was taken aback by the outfit that had been laid out for him in his dressing room.

Layers of bronze, and midnight blue, and even gold. Beautiful, intricate embroidery along the hems and cuffs, down the front. Actual jewels woven into the patterns, sparkling in the light. He could only hope they were some type of glass.

The belt of fire jewels had been set out as well. The flames at their heart easily lighting up the clear jewels that were most definitely not diamonds.

He started to do the math in his head—then forced himself to stop. He'd told Conju he would let Fitzroy and Ylette have their fun. But he still made a mental note to ask Kiri or Aioru or the Treasurer to try and put some kind of cap on the spending for his costumes. He could only hope that one of them could be persuasive.

At least the outfit was one he could don himself. As Cliopher dressed—extraordinarily carefully so as not to catch any of the absolutely-not-diamonds on anything that might pull or tear—he came to the unsatisfactory realization that this wouldn't always be the case. If this was what Ylette and Feonie, and Fitzroy no doubt, thought was appropriate for him to wear to simply work in his office, he could only imagine what they might come up with for more official occasions.

Looking in the mirror, he couldn't help but think that if he walked down the streets of Gorjo City in this outfit, no one would recognize him.

"You look magnificent, Cliopher."

Cliopher spun to face the door. At some point, Conju had slipped into his dressing room, but at Cliopher's sudden turn the Cavalier an Vilius stepped gracefully back into the doorway. Taking a quick breath, Cliopher realized he would have to get used to his friend's silent appearances. While his own attendants had learned to make more noise so they didn't take him by surprise, Conju would probably find such a request insulting. "I feel ridiculously overdressed when I expect to spend most of the day reading reports."

Conju smirked. "I'll have you know that this is the simplified version of what Ylette and Feonie would have had you wearing. His Radiancy insisted that you'd much prefer to be self-sufficient most days. You will, of course, need assistance dressing for official audiences, formal meetings, and court."

Cliopher allowed himself to sigh audibly, but Conju's words only echoed the realization that he'd already had, so he tried not to let the comment depress him further. "I suppose I will have to get used to it."

His friend gave him a look that wasn't quite sympathetic. "Now, I've come to ask if you’d like me to send a page for your secretaries."

Cliopher blinked. "Oh. I didn't even consider that." Of course, his secretaries wouldn't present themselves at the Imperial Apartments without a summons. Outside of an emergency—or a perceived emergency, given the time Gaudy had come barreling into Fitzroy's study bringing news of Jiano and Aya's arrival—it simply wasn't done.

"I thought you might not have," Conju said matter-of-factly. "Is there anyone else you'd like to see this morning? I can have the page summon them as well."

"I would like to speak with Kiri and Aioru. Would you mind asking the page to check whether the fourth hour suits them?"

Conju rolled his eyes. "Unless the Palace of Stars is physically on fire, Cliopher, you can expect them at the fourth hour."

There were plenty of excellent reasons why Kiri and Aioru might propose a different time, but Cliopher didn't bother saying so. "Oh, my apologies. One last thing. Would you have the page tell my secretaries to bring Lord Eldo with them? He'll be joining their ranks as of today."

"Certainly Cliopher," his friend said, offering a gracious but entirely unnecessary bow. "I'll have the page summon your secretaries, including Lord Eldo, then have them request Kiri and Aioru attend you at fourth hour."

***

When Cliopher left his room, he found Ser Rhodin and Pikabe standing at attention to either side of his door, a visible reminder of Ludvic's—no, Commander Omo's, security arrangements. The two guards saluted magnificently.

"Good morning," Cliopher said, nodding at them both.

"Good morning, Cliopher." Rhodin's tone was calm, professional, serious, but his eyes glinted with humour. "You're heading to your office?"

"Yes."

"His Radiancy is already meeting with the Mother of the Mountains, so perhaps we can take the less formal route?" Rhodin quirked an eyebrow in question.

Cliopher shut his eyes for a moment, feeling for Fitzroy. His fanoa's focus was entirely elsewhere, although there was the softest hint of acknowledgement. Wherever he was, Fitzroy knew Cliopher was thinking about him.

"I believe Tor is in some kind of magical trance. I would definitely prefer not to disrupt him," Cliopher said, opening his eyes. "I didn't realize there was another entrance though."

Rhodin saluted. "I'd be delighted to show you."

Cliopher motioned for his friend to take the lead. The two guards exchange glances, then Rhodin set off with Pikabe following along behind Cliopher.

Rhodin led him on a slightly circuitous route down several hallways Cliopher had not yet seen, before coming to a stop at a finely panelled wall. The spymaster made sure he had Cliopher's full attention, then tapped out a sequence of five knocks on the panel. A moment later, a large section of the wall swung open. The guard stepped back to allow Cliopher entrance.

Unlike the secret passageways Rhodin had taken him through to attend to Fitzroy’s nightmare, this secret door led directly into Cliopher's interim office; the opening clearly revealed his desk and the window behind. He stepped through the doorway, quickly realizing that the entrance was hidden by one of the built-in bookcases next to the fireplace.

He glanced at the imperial spymaster. "How many more secret entrances do you know of, Rhodin?"

His friend smiled mysteriously. "That would be telling, Cliopher."

Pikabe let out a sharp cough. Rhodin glanced at his fellow guard, then huffed. "My apologies. I mean, if you really want to know, of course I'll tell you. Do you?"

Cliopher shook his head in bemusement at Rhodin's about face. "Not really, no."

"So, I thought," Rhodin said agreeably, shooting a pointed look at Pikabe before swinging the hidden door shut. "You can open it from this side too—using the same pattern of knocks but on the second shelf. Magically, this door has the same protections as the ivory one in his Radiancy's study. Which…doesn't matter to you anymore of course."

It didn't matter because Cliopher could now go anywhere in the Palace of Stars. No door was barred to him. While the thought remained incredibly unnerving, he refused to dwell on it as it would no doubt distract Fitzroy from his magical workings.  "Thank you for showing me, Rhodin," he said, trying to sound delighted. "Now, I suppose I should make a few lists before my secretaries arrive."

"Of course," Rhodin said. With that, the two guards saluted and moved to stand in front of the door leading to the seventh anteroom.

***

Cliopher found several enchanted pens of different colours in the top drawer of the desk, along with several sheafs of high-quality paper. He used these to begin making notes—starting with a list of topics to discuss with Kiri and Aioru so he didn't forget anything when they arrived.

He fell into his work, barely hearing the quarter-bell; he only roused from his focus at the sound of a knock on the outer door. He watched as Rhodin poked his head out of the room for a few moments, then stepped back in to announce, "Eldo Vardes, Gaudenius Vawen, Tulliantha nai Vasiaan, and Zaoul of the Tkinele: here as requested."

Cliopher raised his eyebrows at the formality, but waved his hand in the gesture of acceptance—Pikabe taking the motion as a command and opening the door wide. Both guards adjusted their spears, giving the doorway their full attention.

Lord Eldo came in first, followed a half-a-pace behind by Gaudy, Tully, and Zaoul. All four secretaries were dressed impeccably, each carrying their writing case. They came forward a half-dozen steps, then went down into the formal obeisances Cliopher had only ever seen given to his Radiancy.

Cliopher's jaw dropped. Not that any of the secretaries could see it.

Are you alright Kip?

His fanoa's flash of worry broke through Cliopher's shock, but he found it impossible to string a cogent sentence together. Fitzroy, thankfully, caught enough meaning from his flailing thoughts to say calmly, You've seen me make the gesture to rise enough. Start with that.

Cliopher immediately did so, grateful for the clear direction. He wasn't sure which of the four secretaries caught the sign—he suspected Lord Eldo or Gaudy simply because they'd have seen it used more often—but all four junior secretaries rose nearly as one.

He smiled genuinely at that, knowing it for a sign that Eldo would fit in just fine with the others. "Lord Eldo, Gaudy, Tully, Zaoul. Thank you for coming so promptly."

"Of course, my lord," Eldo said, the others echoing him a moment later.

Cliopher tried to channel Fitzroy at his most serene. "I hope you all took some time off this past week?"

"Yes, my lord," they said in a chorus.

Cliopher focused on his nephew. "Gaudy, did you hear from your mother? I assume the family all got home safe?"

Gaudy broke formality enough to grin.  "Oh yes, Mama wrote me a letter saying how eye opening the visit was. She told me to thank his Radiancy for arranging the visit. She also told me to tell you that she'll write soon. She said that you'll have enough to keep you busy for at least a week or two, so she doesn't want to bother you." When Cliopher laughed, Gaudy added, "I suspect she was referring to the number of letters you'd be receiving from the rest of the family rather than to your actual work."

"Have there been a lot of letters?"

Tully stepped forward. "In general, or from Gorjo City, my lord?"

"Both?"

"From across Zunidh, there were four thousand, six-hundred, and twenty-nine letters sent to you since the announcement of the ceremony, my lord. From Gorjo City, one hundred and twelve. Twenty-three of the people in Gorjo City wrote more than once. Gaudy helped me sort those by the ones you might want to read sooner. I have those ones in my writing kit if you'd like them?"

"Yes, please."

Tully evaluated the office for a moment, then stepped over to the secretary's desk to open her writing kit. When she turned back to face him, she had what looked to be a dozen letters in her hands. "My lord?"

No doubt someone had schooled the secretaries on the touch taboo in particular. Probably Conju given how anxious Tully looked. "You can set them on my desk Tully," Cliopher instructed, tucking his hands into his sleeves.

Tully hurried forward and dropped the letters on his desk, then stepped back in line with the others. Cliopher couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever looked so nervous giving things to Fitzroy. Perhaps in the very early days. He tidied the letters into a pile, then set them aside to read later. "Thank you, Tully."

Tully smiled brightly. “You are most welcome, my lord.

"Now, what of the other letters?"

 ***

While Cliopher usually enjoyed answering letters, he couldn't help but be beyond grateful to learn that the private offices had handled most of the congratulatory messages and letters (why four thousand, six-hundred, and twenty-nine people would go so far as to write him, he couldn't begin to comprehend) without needing his opinion on the responses, although Zaoul furnished him with a stack of letters that the junior secretaries tasked with sending responses thought were particularly interesting in case he wanted to read them. Each of these came with a draft response, which only highlighted how diligent all the secretaries were. While he regretted not taking full advantage of the junior secretaries sooner, he could wish that their time was not being taken up by responding to personal letters to him. It wasn't an appropriate use of resources at all.

Kiri and Aioru had also, or so Zaoul informed him, answered all the missives and messages sent from the princes—and deferred all requests for audiences until the holiday week ended. Which no doubt meant he’d have a pile of requests a mile high the next day, Cliopher thought, somewhat regretfully.

It was only after Gaudy furnished him with a stack of Ministerial reports—each with a concise summary document, that Cliopher realized he had not spoken to Lord Eldo's presence as of yet. He turned to the young man who looked perfectly willing to wait for hours if needed. "Ah, my apologies Lord Eldo. I got quite carried away with current affairs given how long it has been since I've had time to focus on them. I did ask you here for a reason."

"It's no matter at all, my lord," Eldo said, sounding as if he meant it. "I am entirely at your service!"

Cliopher nodded, he hoped appreciatively. "Yes, well, I was speaking to Tor this morning about his trouble finding a good secretary. I mentioned that you, Gaudy, Tully, and Zaoul were the best junior secretaries to come through the Service in years."

"Oh," Lord Eldo managed, visibly flushing at the compliment. "Thank you, my lord."

"At the same time, I noted that each of you was excellent at different things—and, as such, I proposed that perhaps it might work best if we share all four of you."

Eldo lost control of his court face for a moment, eyes widening in complete shock, before he quickly regained a calm look that Cliopher only wished he could properly emulate. He was quite certain anyone and everyone could read his face—no matter his own attempts at serenity.

"You want me to work with you, my lord?" the young man asked.

 "Yes, Lord Eldo. We both do—if you're amenable?"

 "Yes. Yes, my lord. That is, I'd be honoured to serve both you and his Radiancy."

Cliopher glanced to Gaudy, Zaoul, and Tully. "I assume you three won't mind working with Lord Eldo—and having your duties expand to include both Tor and I?"

"We'd be honoured," Gaudy answered. Cliopher could easily see the intrigue on his nephew's face, and also his delight. Tully also looked quite excited, while Zaoul conveyed a steady calm. None of them looked at all concerned. Then again, the three of them had worked with his Radiancy while he'd spent time with his family, so perhaps it wasn't such a big leap to working with them both.

He shut his eyes for a moment. Fitzroy?

Yes, my dear…fanoa? There was an obvious hesitation in Fitzroy's thought, but also a deep, cautious delight.

My dear fanoa, Cliopher confirmed joyfully, admiringly, lovingly. I've just told Lord Eldo and the others about working with both of us. Would you like to see them?

Oh. Yes, I would. Send them over once you're done.

Five minutes. I'll just explain…well, why I've not said anything for the last few moments.

Cliopher opened his eyes while enjoying Fitzroy's silent laughter. Not unsurprisingly, three of the four secretaries looked confused. Gaudy looked more speculative, but then, he'd been there when Cliopher had mentioned his ability to speak silently to Fitzroy to Vinye and the others prior to their departure.

"After the ceremony last week, Tor and I found that we could speak to each other silently,” Cliopher explained simply, giving them a rueful smile. "Needless to say, we're not particularly practiced with it yet, so it's quite obvious when we're speaking to each other. You have our permission to interrupt if we…get distracted for too long."

None of his secretaries seemed to know what to make of that direction, so Cliopher simply moved on. "I think I have plenty to keep me busy today. I'll go through everything you've given me and have notes for you to act on tomorrow. I fully expect you'll have numerous requests for appointments to wade through this afternoon, so there's no use trying to give you any other work just yet." He smiled fondly at the four of them, before adding, "Now, Tor wants to see you, so why don't you head over to his office."

Clopher couldn't help but be amused as Lord Eldo, Tully, and Zaoul visibly startled at the direct proof that he'd been talking to Tor silently right in front of them, although he tried desperately not to show it.

***

Kiri and Aioru arrived minutes after his secretaries left, leaving him to wonder at whether the guards had simply kept the two waiting until he was finished, then given him a few moments to collect himself before announcing their arrival. He could imagine that being the case easily enough, but knew that it would be quite impolite to ask—particularly if it wasn’t the case.

Cliopher was no less startled when Kiri and Aioru immediately made full obeisances upon entering his office than he'd been when his secretaries had done so, but he at least he was a lot quicker at making the gesture for them to rise. "Please, have a seat," he directed. "Tell me, how has the last week gone? I hope you haven’t had to deal with anything dire?"

***

In the early afternoon, Fitzroy came waltzing into Cliopher's office to the salutes of Cliopher's own guards. Fitzroy's guards—Elish and Oginu—took up positions to either side of his own. Having four guards in a single room seemed a bit ludicrous given Fitzroy was also the strongest mage in Zunidh, but Cliopher managed to hold his tongue on the subject.

Not his thoughts, Cliopher realized when his fanoa gave him a grin and said, I am certain Ludvic will iron out the minor details over time. Until then, it's best to ignore such strangeness.

Fitzroy didn’t wait for Cliopher’s response, simply hurried across the room, seized his hand, and pulled him up from his seat. "My dear fanoa, I have always thought that you ignored your own needs far too much when focused on your work, but now I'm assured of it. I have come to the conclusion that it will be my duty to ensure that you don't skip meals unless there is a true emergency. While I appreciate your dedication, there is such a thing as working too hard when it isn't needed."

Cliopher, dazzled and dazed by Fitzroy's confident, comfortable, and utterly delighted use of the word fanoa, barely heard the criticism.  He simply grinned foolishly as Fitzroy practically towed him out of the office.

Chapter Text

Cliopher spent much of the afternoon reading the stack of ministerial reports provided by his secretaries, along with an absolutely riveting proposal written by Aioru and signed off on by Kiri.

The proposal, Inefficiencies and Concerning Potential Conflicts of Interest in the Existing Structure of the Imperial Bureaucratic Service, came with a supremely diplomatic covering note that went out of its way to detail how well the current structure had worked under the previous Lord Chancellor and Secretary in Chief. It suggested, however, that said structure was likely unsustainable for a number of reasons, including: the assumption that the Secretary in Chief was infallible, inherently honest, and completely free of influence; the assumption that the Secretary in Chief was able to work more than twenty-four hours in a given day; and the assumption that the Secretary in Chief had the full support of the Sun-on-Earth, who was also the Lord Magus, and that no conflicts would ever arise between them.

The note went on to suggest that in revising the structure of the Mundial Government of Zunidh to allow for the retirement of the Sun-on-Earth and the devolution of power to a new Lord Magus, a number of factors be considered, including:

• A reasonable assumption of work hours for any and all positions in the government, including the Lord Magus; any magic-identified Co-Ruler; any magic-appointed Viceroys; the Lord Chancellor; the Secretary in Chief; all Princes, Governors, Ministers, Secretaries, Pages, Ministerial Staff (both those centrally located and those based in the provinces); all Imperial Guard Members and Recruits, etc.
• Mandatory vacation time for all positions noted in the previous bullet, including a minimum of three weeks for junior staff and five weeks for senior officials, with additional travel time and available modes of travel identified for anyone working more than three-days journey from their home.
• A new department responsible for recording the proceedings of all Council of Princes meetings, Helma Council meetings, Committee meetings, and Special Committee meetings rather than relying on participants in those meetings, or their secretaries, for detailed notes and action items.
• The shift of all government audit functions to an extra-governmental organization.
• The scheduling of a review and restructuring of the justice system in consideration of the shift in the Mundial Government structure.

Cliopher read the entire forty-page report, feeling a swelling joy at each new page, research point, reference, and recommendation. While some of the recommendations were included in his own plans, others were entirely new and, in both cases, Aioru had provided unique and highly compelling arguments and considerations.

"You feel like you've just balanced the budget!" Fitzroy said directly into his ear.

Cliopher startled hard, leapt out of his seat, and whirled around to find his fanoa less than a step away with an amused smirk on his face. "Where did you come from?"

Fitzroy shook his head, laughing. "I've been standing right here watching you for the past five minutes, my dear fanoa. I came through the door because I had a few minutes and thought I'd see how you were doing. What was so riveting that you didn't notice me at all?"

He blushed. "Aioru wrote a proposal about possible factors to include in the reformation project—and it's brilliant. Look, see!" Cliopher grabbed the covering note and shoved it into his fanoa's hands.

Cliopher knew how fast Fitzroy read—followed his eyes as he skimmed the page. "He does have you pegged, my dear Kip," Fitzroy said after a while. "Works more than twenty-four hours a day. I always thought that time in the Palace of Stars passed based on how long you needed to complete a given project."

"It does not," Cliopher denied. "I simply work efficiently."

"You do at that, but he isn't wrong to suggest that no one else could ever do the job you've done."

Cliopher could hardly disagree with that statement given Fitzroy's experience trying to find a secretary to replace him. "Perhaps not," he admitted. "Then again, I suspect no one else will ever have the benefit of a thousand years of experience."

Fitzroy hummed noncommittally. "I also quite like this idea of everyone being required to take a vacation. Until we went to Navikiani, such a thing had never crossed my mind. But we've just had a week off and I'm already wondering when we can find an excuse to take another."

Cliopher reached out and took his fanoa's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Alas, I’m certain there's a significant amount of work that needs to be done before we can take off on even a small adventure, but you did promise my family a visit before your quest."

"I did, didn't I?" Fitzroy smiled warmly, which sent a rush of affection running through Cliopher. "I expect I'm just having the megrims. It appears I have far less patience with minutiae than I did before my heart attack."

Cliopher studied his fanoa's face, felt the miasma of inevitability running below the surface—the expectation of boredom, tedium, monotony. "You only have to put up with it until we get everything in order for our retirement." And you always have me to talk to if you're in a truly boring meeting.

I can, can't I?

Cliopher nodded, squeezing Fitzroy's hand again. I am always here if you need me.

Thank you, my dear Kip. I suppose I should go deal with the High Priests of the Ouranatha then. As much as I am glad that they are finally working to untangle the remaining taboos, I admit the mechanics of it are not the most riveting."

Cliopher grinned. You mean there's a lot of math involved.

Perhaps, just perhaps, that might be a contributing factor.

***

After a relatively easy—if painfully eye opening—first day back to work, Cliopher's second day felt like a mountain falling on his head. He couldn't quite help rubbing his temples while reviewing the list of the seventy-three people who had made requests for meetings to his secretaries the previous day, including no less than ten of the princes—Prince Rufus, Princess Oriana, and Princess Anastasiya being the notable exceptions—every ambassador currently in the palace, dozens of ministerial staff, and a handful of Zunidh citizens.

Frowning at the list, Cliopher raised his eyebrows at Tully. "Dare I ask whether any of these people have legitimate problems I can help resolve?"

"Oh yes, my lord," Tully said, not doing a particularly good job of hiding her amusement. "All the citizen petitioners at the end of the list. While Saya Kalikiri and Sayo Aioru were able to handle most of the petitions while you and his Radiancy were, er, busy, they believed these ones needed your special attention."

"Schedule those first then," he told her. "And investigate how long each of them has waited. We should look at reimbursing travel costs if needed given the delays."

"I will, my lord."

Cliopher nodded appreciatively. "Go ahead and schedule the ministry representatives as well. While most are probably simply curious about everything that's happened over the past few weeks, I may as well take the opportunity to speak to them regarding the reformation project. We'll need to forge ahead with consultations on the matter shortly."

"Yes, my lord. Can I mention that to them?" At Cliopher's nod, she jotted down a note.

"Did Tor get requests from the princes and ambassadors as well?" Cliopher asked.

Tully glanced over at Lord Eldo, who answered, "Yes, my lord. The only difference is that all of the princes requested time with him." Eldo's forehead wrinkled in thought, perhaps wondering whether Cliopher would find such a move a snub.

Cliopher smiled at his noble-born secretary to show he wasn't concerned at all; if anything, he was relieved that some things hadn't changed. "Good. Let's delay until after Tor meets with them all—"

I expect it would be easier for both of us to simply call a Council of Princes. Kill all of the birds with the same stone, Tor offered. It isn't as if I want to spend two days meeting with them either.

Cliopher tried not to laugh. You really are more impatient, aren't you, my dear fanoa?

He felt Fitzroy's unspoken agreement. When you can spare him, have Eldo come over here. He can help me draft a summons for the princes. I've already sent Gaudy and Zaoul looking for something in the archives. Fitzroy paused for a moment, then added, There's no reason for you not to accept the ambassadors' requests. I know you actually like most of them.

Cliopher flushed, realizing that he must have been thinking quite loudly about some of the princes. My apologies, Fitzroy. I’m certain my thoughts aren’t particularly diplomatic. One day, maybe I won't think as loud.

He felt Fitzroy's amused agreement. I enjoy every stray thought of yours, my dear Kip. Don't tell me you don't feel the same. I know you'd be lying.

This time Cliopher did laugh out loud—to the visible startlement of the two secretaries sitting before him. Just wait until I'm in a budget meeting. I'm sure you won't appreciate my interruptions then.

***

On the third day after they returned to work, Cliopher had to venture out of the Imperial Apartments for the first time since he’d seen off his family—to attend a meeting of the Helma Council.

As much as the Helma Council had critical responsibility for the financial matters of the Zunidh government, all of its members were bureaucrats of some form or another—people with specific technical skills and experience in taxation, accounting, auditing, and financial reporting. The princes had long since given away their proxies, so when Fitzroy had named Cliopher his official representative, the meetings had become quite a bit less formal, with everyone simply working together to get the job done.

Given his friendly working relationship with the other members of the Council, Cliopher wasn't the least bit concerned about the meeting until Conju came into the breakfast room while he and Fitzroy were finishing lunch—with an almost eager look on his face.

"Ah, Conju. There you are," Fitzroy said as if Conju wasn't always hovering relatively close, if not in sight. "I suppose you are here to suggest Cliopher needs to get ready?"

"Yes, my lord. The Helma Council meeting is at the second bell after noon. It will take much of that time to get him ready."

Cliopher looked between them, concern sparking in his chest. "What do you mean, get ready? I only need a few minutes for necessities—"

"There is no way you can wear that, Cliopher," Conju admonished.

Cliopher glanced down at his robes—far superior in quality and design and cut to anything he'd worn even as Lord Chancellor. "It isn't as if I'm going to the Council of Princes, Conju," he said, unable to hide his annoyance. "Surely, what I'm wearing is more than suitable for a meeting with people I've worked with for many years. And it isn't as if I haven't already seen Kiri and Aioru this morning." The two had come at the second bell of the morning to walk through the Council agenda and identified action items with him.

His friend shot him a wounded look. "People coming to your private office for a meeting is not even slightly the same as your going to a formal meeting elsewhere in the palace, Cliopher."

Cliopher could sense his fanoa's delight at the situation, knew Fitzroy would be no help at all. He sighed audibly. "And such a meeting—even with government bureaucrats who have even less concern about clothing than I do—requires what exactly?"

***

The answer, Cliopher learned, was what Conju referred to as half-court costume regardless of the fact it was far superior to anything Cliopher had worn to court previously—with the exception of the superlative costume he’d worn at the bonding ceremony.

As Cliopher stood in the centre of his dressing room trying to imitate a statue, he couldn't help but wish for the overwhelming tumult of Fitzroy's magic he'd had to distract him while being dressed for the ceremony because the process of being dressed by someone who couldn't physically touch him was incredibly odd, disconcerting, and unnerving. At least Conju had put on gloves for the task, likely more to address Cliopher's anxiety about accidental touch than his own. Conju had centuries of practice dressing Fitzroy, after all.

The outfit began with a different set of brilliant, jewel-encrusted silk robes in midnight bronze and orange and gold. To Cliopher's eyes they didn't seem much different than the robes he'd put on that morning—other than the colours themselves and the way the middle layer tied at his back and the topmost one to either side.

After the silk layers came one of shimmering ahalo cloth the shade of glowing embers. This was followed by the fire gem mantle.

"Shouldn't this be kept for my court costume?" Cliopher asked, unable to stop himself from running his fingertips over the waterfall of fire gems after Conju had set it into place and stepped back. "It seems far more suited to special occasions."

"Come now, my dear Kip. The mantle is the one part of the costume you actually like," Fitzroy said fondly from the doorway. "You're not allowed to argue about wearing it."

Cliopher couldn't help but smile as his fanoa crossed the room, still dressed in his night robe, and reached for his hand. Fitzroy's beautiful fingers were warm and soft against Cliopher’s own—his touch gentle, as if Cliopher were made of the same superlative cloth as his garments.

You look— Fitzroy's words failed, even in Cliopher's head, but his emotions tumbled brightly between them: wonder, delight, amazement, pleasure.

Cliopher's cheeks warmed. "Thank you." He glanced in the mirror behind his fanoa, then quickly away. Much as he could stare at Fitzroy's reflection for hours, the person standing with him was too much a stranger. "I'm surprised the jewels don't feel heavy," he said, voicing the first random thought to come to his mind.

"Magic," Conju said, waving his hand dismissively as if such a thing wasn't even a question. The Cavalier an Villius set a pair of sandals at Cliopher's feet so he could slip them on.

"Be kind, Conju," Fitzroy admonished, giving his Groom of the Chamber a pointed look. "Kip is adapting to everything marvellously well given the situation. Don't you think?"

Before Conju could even think to apologize, Cliopher cleared his throat. He gave his fanoa a fond look before turning to his friend. "Don't mind Tor. He's being a bit overprotective. It's not like you didn't answer my question."

Conju grimaced, no doubt rueing his casual answer, but Cliopher didn't mind the sharp response as it meant Conju was still thinking of him as a friend first.

"His Radiancy is quite correct, however," Conju said, a note of embarrassment in his tone as he stepped back and scanned Cliopher from head to toe. "You are doing better much than anyone expected of you. You might even win the current betting pool by default."

Cliopher immediately looked to his fanoa, who shook his head uncertainly. "Which one?" Fitzroy asked, his amusement and curiosity apparent both on his face and deep within.

"How long it takes before Cliopher gets fed up at some person or point of protocol." Conju glanced at Cliopher, then lifted his lips in the smallest of smiles. "It isn't as if you're known for your, er, adherence to protocol. Over half the household bet that you'd say something to your secretaries the first day."

Cliopher blushed, hoped it wasn’t as obvious as it felt. "I probably would have if I'd been able to find any words at all."

***

Knowing there was a bet against him, Cliopher committed to at least trying to ignore the new and complex layers of protocol that seemed to have surrounded him in the wake of his bond with Fitzroy.

That promise lasted almost a quarter-hour.

The challenge was when he realized that saying goodbye at dawn during a holiday week was a very different experience than walking through the palace right before the second bell of the afternoon.

He tried to channel Fitzroy's serenity as he left the Imperial Apartments escorted by Ludvic and Pikabe. They descended relatively unscathed to the level containing his own apartments. When he would have turned down the hall to get to the staircase that would lead almost directly to the door of the chamber where the Helma Council met, however, Ludvic coughed pointedly.

Cliopher glanced back. "Ludvic?"

"I know what staircase you want to take, but you might consider how small it is," Ludvic said apologetically.

Cliopher winced, immediately realizing that Ludvic wasn’t wrong. The staircase he'd intended to take was quite cramped, particularly if there were people heading in opposite directions. "Ah, right." Grimacing, he turned back towards the staircase that cut through the centre of the Palace of Stars.

As they descended to the next level, the number of people multiplied. Once, Cliopher could have passed through the crowd almost unhindered, but that was no longer the case. The stares came first as people caught a flicker of his fire gem mantle or the impressive forms of the imperial guards walking at his back, spears in hand. This was followed a moment later by sudden realization—and by people falling into first degree obeisances, the same as they would if their paths crossed Fitzroy. Cliopher had somewhat grown accustomed to receiving the first degree obeisances in the days leading up to the ceremony even if he didn’t like the additional attention. At least it was better than being given the full formal obeisances.

He felt Fitzroy's unspoken query, underpinned by a sharp note of concern. He sent back what he hoped was mild aggravation. Does it always take you so long to get anywhere?

You'll get used to it, my dear Kip.

But I'm going to be late, Cliopher said, making another sign for someone to rise. He tried to be grateful that the obeisances were simple acknowledgement of his presence and that no one tried to talk to him.

You have plenty of time, my dear fanoa. And besides, it's not as if anyone will complain if you are late.

But it would be incredibly rude. Cliopher felt Fitzroy smile.

Fortunately for Cliopher's sense of timing, they arrived at the hall where the Helma Council met just as the second hour tolled. He reached for the doorknob when Ludvic coughed again. "We should go first," the Commander of the Imperial Guard said. "To get the lay of the room. Perhaps you could wait about ten seconds before entering?"

"Right, of course." Cliopher had to remember that anyone wanting to get at Fitzroy would likely come for him. While he doubted that anyone would strike during the Helma Council, he had to let Commander Omo and Pikabe do their jobs just to be sure. So, he took a few steps back and watched as Ludvic opened the door and stepped inside, followed by Pikabe. They kept the door open, no doubt wanting to keep an eye on him even as they surveyed the meeting room.

Cliopher counted to ten slowly in his head, then schooled his face to easy calm. He knew these people. They knew him. The last thing he wanted was to put them on their guard. The meeting would go much more smoothly if he could quickly chivvy them from any unnecessary formalities to actual work. He took a long, deep breath, nodded to himself—then walked through the door.

As he passed between Ludvic and Pikabe, Cliopher quickly scanned the meeting room for himself. Normally, the tables were set up in a basic square to allow for everyone to see each other. For this meeting, however, the tables had been shifted slightly, with the desk at the front of the room where Cliopher usually sat moved back a few paces so as to require anyone else in the room to stand up in order to reach it. It was a small, simple move that catered to the taboos without making an obvious fuss of them. Cliopher was immediately grateful for whoever had thought of the shift because he knew he often forgot his surroundings when he got immersed in a discussion.

Whether the idea had been Kiri and Aioru's or Gaudy and Tully's, it wasn't immediately clear. But the four of them had set their papers in front of the seats at the desks closest to his own—the first pair at the table to his right and his secretaries at the table to his left—adding an additional buffer between Cliopher and the rest of the members of the Council.

In the brief moment it took Cliopher to take in the room, everyone present sank into formal obeisances. Cliopher pressed his lips tight together, quickly making the gesture to rise. Once they all had, he took his own seat so that the others would do the same. While he kept his eyes forward, he could hear Ludvic and Pikabe taking up positions at his back.

As everyone settled into their seats, Cliopher flipped casually through the materials that had been set out for him—a copy of the meeting's agenda and the notes he'd made in advance. After a few moments, he looked up and glanced around the room, meeting eyes where he could. "Good morning, everyone" he said, pushing cheerfulness into his voice. "I appreciate this meeting has been delayed by, shall we say unavoidable circumstances, but hopefully we can get back on track now. We have a lot to cover, so why don't we get started. Kiri?"

"Of course, my lord," Kiri said, nodding formally in recognition before moving directly into a review of the agenda.

***

The first two hours of the meeting sped by quickly. To Cliopher's gratitude, once he'd shown his desire not to ruminate on his changed position—he'd been head of the Helma Council by Fitzroy's word already after all so nothing had changed for the Council itself—everyone else had quickly adjusted. While Gaudy took meeting notes, Tully made it her mission to pass any required materials and documents to him quickly and without drawing too much attention to the fact she never put anything directly into his hands.

Kiri led them easily through the first three points on the agenda, including changes to taxation policies for certain goods coming from Alinor, new programs intended to foster business partnerships across different parts of Zunidh, and the results of the latest provincial audits. Once Kiri's points were addressed, Aioru provided an overview of the proposed consultation schedule for the next budget. Cliopher listened intently to make certain that Aioru didn't miss any major stakeholders, making the occasional note on the proposed schedule with the enchanted pen that had been set out for him.

When Aioru finished his proposal, Cliopher gave the younger man a firm nod. "Thank you Sayo Aioru. That sounds well thought out and reasonable. I do have a couple of questions, if I may?"

"Of course, my lord," Aioru answered, even as he flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and picked up his pen.

"You propose meeting with the ministries first before meeting with representatives—" Cliopher's words cut off sharply as a bolt of shock blasted through him. He gasped for a breath, immediately shutting his eyes and feeling for his fanoa. Fitzroy's emotions roiled—shock, amazement, chagrin, regret, desire—but most obvious: the unmistakable sense of recognition.

We'll continue this audience outside, Fitzroy said—obviously not to Cliopher. Possibly to one of their secretaries, either Zaoul or Lord Eldo since the other two were sitting at the desk next to Cliopher.

While Fitzroy's emotions remained riled, they stabilized enough for Cliopher to take a deep breath and open his eyes. Everyone in the room was staring, some curiously, some worriedly. Heat rose in his cheeks. "My apologies, everyone. Where was I?" He glanced over to Gaudy.

His nephew, no doubt recognizing the distraction hadn't come from within the room, scanned his notes perfunctorily. "You were asking a question of Sayo Aioru, my lord. About why the meeting with the ministries was scheduled before…"

"Ah yes, thank you Gaudy." Cliopher turned back to Aioru. "—before the meeting with representatives of the Ouranatha."

Aioru's forehead wrinkled—whether in question, or worry, or both, Cliopher didn’t know—but he was too well practiced to say anything given Cliopher had sailed right over the pause. "Yes, my lord," was all the man said. "Historically, we meet with the Ouranatha first, but then need to check back with them after meeting with the ministries. I thought this year we could try the reverse as it is more likely for the ministries' considerations to affect the activities of the Ouranatha, rather than the other way around."

Cliopher thought through the possibility. If it saved the Ouranatha from one or more budget meetings, he doubted that they’d be offended. "That seems reasonable. Make a note to review how well the process works in the post-budget wrap up meeting."

 "Yes, my lord," Aioru answered, jotting down a note.

"Thank you, Aioru. Now, on the matter of timing. I appreciate that we are a month behind when we would have started—" Cliopher's words broke into a sharp, audible gasp as a wave of terror crested over him, topped by the most desperate, desolate, devastating pang of yearning.

"Tor!" he shouted reflexively, bolting from his seat and sending his pen and papers scattering in all directions. All thoughts of propriety and security and taboos forgotten, heart stuttering in his chest, aching with terror and desire and fear and fury, Cliopher ran.

***

Ludvic's quick reflexes got him to the door a half-dozen steps ahead of Cliopher. The guard commander pushed the door open with his free hand, then twisted out of the way to avoid accidentally skewering Cliopher with his spear or—even more dangerously—colliding with him as he rushed into the hall with no thought for anyone but Fitzroy.

As Cliopher surged down the hallway, heading towards the central stairs that would take him up to the Imperial Apartments, Ludvic kept pace with him easily—staying just out of arm's reach but at Cliopher's side rather than a few steps behind like Pikabe. The halls were quite busy, but the commander ordered everyone in their path out of the way. Amazingly they all listened.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cliopher knew he was causing a major scene, but it was impossible to focus given the miasma of regret, worry, fear, longing, desire, desperation, and pain thickening his thoughts and threatening his sanity.

Cliopher began the ascent up the multitude of steps leading up the tower, dragging in harsher and harsher breaths the higher he went, but never slowing his pace. Ludvic and Pikabe took the climb with ease—eyes focused outward to avert any potential disasters. “What's wrong?" Ludvic hissed at one point, forgetting protocol all together in the midst of what felt like sudden disaster.

Cliopher swallowed, found enough voice to say, "Something's wrong. He feels…like he's breaking into pieces." Before Ludvic could say anything more, they made it up the final staircase. Cliopher turned towards the entrance to the Imperial Apartments. "Open the doors," he demanded, not slowing down, not waiting for protocol, or ceremony, or salutes.

The guards immediately obeyed, stamping their spears to open the door, then signalling the order to the next pair of guards, and the next, and the next—until Cliopher barreled into Fitzroy's study half-certain he'd find his fanoa mortally wounded. What he found instead was Lord Eldo sitting at his old desk working. And Fitzroy's guards—Varro and Zerafin—standing to either side of the outer door, their eyes wide and focused fully on Cliopher as he came to a halt in the middle of the empty study, Ludvic and Pikabe not quite on his heals.

"My lord!" Eldo said in shock, jumping out of his seat and moving to make an obeisance. Before the secretary could even bend a knee, Cliopher cut him off with a slice of his hand. "Where is he?"

To Eldo's credit, he didn't waiver in the face of Cliopher's upset. The young lord simply pointed to the balcony.

Cliopher turned, immediately catching sight of Fitzroy's imperial yellow robes through the window. His fanoa had his back to the balcony door, but he was standing on his own two feet and neither his guards nor Lord Eldo seemed the least bit concerned—except about Cliopher himself.

But Fitzroy's emotions belied his seeming serenity, sharp edged and broken and impossible for Cliopher to break through. Cliopher’s eyes followed the line of his fanoa’s body and focus, finding them caught by Fitzroy’s apparent guest. The woman appeared unthreatening, petite as she was and dressed in the recognizable black robes of an Alinorel Scholar. Her skin was coppery brown, her hair deep black with sprinkles of silver, and her features sharp—not at all Shaian. She looked remarkably familiar, although Cliopher was certain he'd never met her. But then she waved her arm and he was reminded of an illusion Fitzroy had wrought when they'd visited the market while at Navikiani: a woman riding an elephant.

And in that moment, Cliopher’s heart broke as he realized who the woman had to be: Pali Avramapul of the Red Company. One of Fitzroy's good friends, dearest friends, lost friends finally come to find him.

The woman, Pali, gestured passionately as she spoke. Cliopher couldn't hear her words, meaning Fitzroy must have raised the wall of silence. But in the face of Pali Avramapul, Fitzroy didn't move. He stood frozen, lost, collapsing under the weight of treacherous emotions a bare arm's length away from the woman waxing poetic before him—one of his dearest friends—who obviously couldn't tell or didn't care that Fitzroy was shattering.

Without hesitation, Cliopher hurled himself across the study. Ludvic, somehow reading his intent and moving quicker, got to the door to the terrace first, opening it silently. Cliopher didn't even acknowledge the gesture. He simply darted onto the balcony and crossed the few steps to Fitzroy.

"Move!" He threw the demand at Fitzroy's unexpected visitor without even looking. Undaunted, undeterred, unafraid, Cliopher inserted himself between his fanoa and one of the greatest sword masters in the Nine Worlds and the only one to have ever bested Damian Raskae in single combat. Ignoring the potential sword at his back, Cliopher wrapped his arms around Fitzroy and tugged him into a fierce embrace.

I have you, Fitzroy. I have you. I'm here, he sent, trying to break through the frigid tumult of his fanoa's emotions. I'm here, my love. I'm here. You're safe. I have you.

Cliopher held Fitzroy for what could have been a century, held him until his fanoa shuddered in his arms, then brought his own hands up slowly—too slowly for Cliopher's liking—and wrapped them around Cliopher's back. Fitzroy’s hands trembled noticeably, even through the layers of silk and ahalo cloth.

I have you. I'm here. Cliopher repeated, over and over and over again. Until—

You're here. The words were the faintest whisper in Cliopher's head, full of shock and sadness and surprise. You came.

I'm here. I’m here, Cliopher said intensely, forcefully, fiercely. And I will always come for you.

Of course. Fitzroy's silent words came a bit louder, a bit stronger. Of course, you would.

Holding his fanoa close, Fitzroy's head draped over his shoulder, Cliopher turned to face the redoubtable Pali Avramapul and demanded harshly, "Why did you come now?"

The woman who was not—or at least hadn't been in the days of the Red Company—an Alinorel Scholar had backed up a few steps but was still far too close for Cliopher’s liking. Her eyes were wide with shock and assessment and what Cliopher thought had to be anger. Everyone knew of Pali Avramapul's legendary anger. She'd fought gods and won. Who was Cliopher Mdang to stand against her?

And yet Cliopher was the one holding Fitzroy close. The one providing comfort because she'd disregarded everything Fitzroy was feeling. The one who could feel the enormous depth of Fitzroy's regret, despair, longing, love. Cliopher pushed his own feelings down deep, accepting the undeniable truth that Fitzroy loved Pali Avramapul. Why wouldn’t he? She was a lightning bolt to Cliopher’s spark, a wildfire next to his soft-burning embers.

Regardless of all he was feeling from Fitzroy, Cliopher glared at Pali Avramapul. She glared right back, eyes sharply evaluating the way he held Fitzroy close, held him when she had obviously tried to reach out and been denied. But Cliopher had voiced the first challenge, so he waited for her riposte, her response.

Knowing all the songs and stories about Pali Avramapul, Cliopher expected her to question, to argue, to fight. He did not expect her to capitulate. But as they held each other's eyes—trapped, caught, captured—Pali Avramapul blinked, her glare melting into regret, disappointment, distress. "I didn't know," she said finally, the admission coming out in a softer tone than Cliopher expected. "I didn't know."

Cliopher shuddered in tune with Fitzroy, near bereft from the truth in her words. In his arms, Fitzroy let out a stuttering breath, then straightened. Cliopher released him, stepping back so Fitzroy could do something, say something. It was impossible not to feel all the depth of his love, his desire, his yearning.

Fitzroy said none of it. He simply looked at Pali Avramapul, who looked back at him, a clear reflection of all that he was. Cliopher's heart ached. "I am sorry," Fitzroy said—soft, quiet, not at all serene.

Pali Avramapul met Fitzroy's eyes for a long moment, then shook her head. She glanced at Cliopher, then back to Fitzroy. "Are you?" she asked, words biting, bitter. Then she offered the full formal obeisance with a grace Cliopher could only appreciate, rose as easily, then turned and hurried towards the door back inside.

A second later, Fitzroy followed as if drawn by a string. Cliopher, bereft and feeling more alone than he had in weeks, shaking under the press of Fitzroy's despair, followed in his wake.

***

The study should have felt different, but it was the same as it ever was: stately, formal, impressive, unaffected. Not like the people it contained: four not-quite-stone-faced imperial guards—Fitzroy's pair at the outer door and Cliopher's at the balcony; one flabbergasted lordling and secretary—standing by his desk and wringing his hands ineffectually; one Groom of the Chamber hovering in front of the ivory door, eyes wide with consternation and concern.

One despairing renegade, radiancy, shattered Sun-on-Earth, eyes still focused on the now closed outer door—emotions like a thousand knives, each cutting deep.

And one completely at a loss, heartbroken Cliopher Mdang, who had no idea at all what to do. Standing less than a dozen steps from Fitzroy, the divide felt wider than the last ramshackle bridge over the Haren Gap. He could practically feel Fitzroy clamoring to sever the rope of the bridge, hive off his sharp emotions, replace them with a solid, dangerous serenity.

"Tor," Cliopher said quietly, stepping close and laying a hand ever so gently on Fitzroy's shoulder. "You can't button it away."

Fitzroy turned to him, eyes full of fire and fury. "Who are you to tell me I cannot?"

The words stung hard, deep. Cliopher dropped his hand, singed. But he couldn't stop, not when he could feel—"Oh, you can. You can shutter your feelings, suppress your heart and everything that makes you who you are. I know you can, I can feel it. But Tor, if you do so now—if you shut the world and everything in it out, I tell you, you will lose your soul."

Cliopher couldn't say the rest, that if Fitzroy cut his own heart out, he'd take Cliopher's with it. For as much as Cliopher felt the depth of Fitzroy's pain, the alternative would be far, far worse. There was no way he could survive such a loss.

"How dare you," Fitzroy said harshly, eyes blazing with magic, sharp and bitter and cold. A wind swept through the room sending priceless artifacts tumbling to the floor—the tapestry on the wall, the caged nightingale, the iridescent peacock-blue vase that Cliopher had loved for a thousand years. Cliopher lunged for the last as if reaching to save Fitzroy's heart but the vase fell. Hit the ground. Fractured.

Fitzroy glanced down at the broken vase, hissed painfully, then turned without even a glance at Cliopher and threw himself at the door to his private study. A moment later, the door swung shut with a finality that had Cliopher choking, heaving, retching. His breath caught in his lungs and he whirled around the study, needing to escape. He shuddered as his eyes caught on the balcony doors. There would be no solace there today. He turned to the ivory door, took several faltering steps towards it.

"Cliopher," someone said softly, gently, worriedly.

"I can't. I can't." Cliopher shuddered, taking the last steps towards the ivory door—which swung open soundlessly as he reached for it. The response to his bond with Fitzroy sent tears streaming down his face, even as he rushed towards his room. Like Fitzroy, Cliopher never glanced back.

***

Cliopher had enough presence of mind not to want to destroy the beautiful and incredibly expensive robes he was wearing. Finding a way to take everything off without assistance gave him something to do—a task to focus on. He pushed his feelings as far down as they could go. Tried not to think of the ball of aching devastation that was Fitzroy—tried to push his feelings aside too, as Fitzroy had pushed him away. He mostly failed, which only deepened the hollowness within him.

He took off the mantle of fire gems, carefully, oh so carefully. Stared at their inner fire contained in his trembling hands, wished for the warmth of a real fire to soothe the bitter cold chilling his bones. When was the last time he'd lit a fire? He couldn't remember. What would his Buru Tovo think? Probably that Cliopher had failed him too, despite how he'd used the Lays as the foundation for everything he'd done, all of his work so far, all that he wanted to do.

Not sure how best to hang the mantle, he set it down carefully on the room’s only chair. The last thing he wanted was to make Conju upset. Then, he undid the clasp on his belt and set that aside before removing the layer of ahalo cloth—gently, so gently. He hung it up, well familiar with the delicate cloth made in the Vangavaye-ve. His heart hurt with longing to be back home, to go, to hide away. But that wasn't an option, not anymore. Even if he wasn't the one Fitzroy truly wanted, he couldn't, wouldn't leave.

The ties of the silk over robe were easy to manage, done up as they were at the sides. The middle layer was more difficult, but Cliopher managed to pull his arms out and twist it around so he could reach the ties. He couldn't imagine what Conju would have said if he'd seen the maneuver—well, he could, but refused to focus on it because Conju wasn't there and it had worked.

The final robe was the easiest as Cliopher could simply lift it over his head. Left only in his tunic and trews, Cliopher took the time to hang the silk layers properly. No doubt Conju would redo his efforts, but at least nothing would be wrinkled or ruined. He refused to think of the beautiful iridescent blue vase, lying broken in the study.

Finished, Cliopher wasn't ready to leave the quiet solitude of his dressing room. Looking around, he realized how much he'd relied entirely on Franzel’s and Feonie's clothing choices since becoming Lord Chancellor—and, more recently, on Conju's and Lady Ylette's and—

Hesitatingly, he opened a random cabinet, glancing through the dozen or so stunning robes it contained. If Lady Ylette and Feonie had their way, he expected the mostly empty space would be full to overflowing soon enough. Continuing his exploration, Cliopher found several sets of sandals in a low drawer, a collection of jewelry he didn't recognize in a higher one. And then, in a corner of the room, he found a cabinet containing a small selection of his own clothing from before he'd been elevated to Lord Chancellor. The clothing must have been prioritized by someone as he doubted the Ouranatha would have worried about purifying old clothing particularly quickly. It hadn't even been a week and a half. He wondered when he'd be able to move back to his apartments. He made a note to check. Perhaps Fitzroy would prefer having the Imperial Apartments to himself again.

He managed the smallest of smiles as he picked through the old clothing, finding three of the outfits he'd worn at Navikiani, a set of heavier robes from his Astandalas days, a grass skirt—which made him think it must have been Gaudy who'd selected the clothing—and a thick blue bed robe. The robe was worn and tattered but made of incredibly soft if inexpensive cloth. Cliopher had worn the robe for many, many years before having it replaced by something newer when he'd had his clothing turned upside down in the wake of gaining a title and a household.

He pulled the robe on—finding comfort in the familiarity, in the connection to who he had been, who he still was, who he wanted to be. With a long sigh, he shuffled out of the dressing room and straight to his bed. Trying not to think, he slipped off his sandals, pulled back the coverlet, and climbed in. He shivered despite the thick bed robe and coverlet—cold, lonely, bereft.

He wrapped his arms around Fitzroy's pillow and let his tears fall.

***

Minutes, hours, or a lifetime later, someone knocked on Cliopher’s outer door. He ignored it. A few moments later, they knocked again. He shoved his head under Fitzroy's pillow, ignoring its dampness.

Another knock, then a loud voice: "Cliopher." Ludvic—not Conju as Cliopher would have guessed. "Cliopher, please."

He sighed audibly. Ludvic was the Commander of the Imperial Guard. If something was truly wrong and Fitzroy was…unavailable, then Cliopher needed to do what he was good at: solving other people's problems. He crawled out of the bed and headed towards the door in his bare feet. His heart ached sharply as the door swung open, not even giving him the ability to simply peek his head out.

Ludvic was not quite leaning against the wall across from his doorway, studying him intently. "You look dreadful," his friend said after a long moment. "Are you…"

Cliopher ignored the hesitant question. "What's wrong? I doubt you'd have interrupted me otherwise—not after, after that."

Ludvic's eyes widened slightly. "He was upset and lashed out, Cliopher. And you were the only person in that room that he could safely be upset with. You can't believe he was upset at you."

Cliopher made a soft noise of denial. He'd felt it. He knew what Fitzroy wanted and it wasn't—it wasn't him. No matter what he'd thought. No matter what he'd felt. No matter what he'd said.

Ludvic shook his head, but didn't argue. "Cliopher, I've spent the last bell talking with Lord Eldo, with Varro and Zerafin, with Conju. Lord Eldo said that his Radiancy asked for a distraction while you were at the Helma Council, so he mentioned a request from an Alinorel Scholar, Domina Black. His Radiancy seemed amenable to the idea, said that he'd read several of her books. So, Lord Eldo sent a page for her."

Undoubtably, Fitzroy would have wanted a distraction. He wasn't keen on budgets and finances, not like Cliopher was, and that was what most of the Helma Council meeting had been focused on.

"All was normal, until she came out of her obeisances," Ludvic continued. "Varro said that his Radiancy was visibly shocked, astonished, when he saw her. He immediately took her out on the balcony and put up the wall of silence. After Conju served them tea, they talked for a few minutes. Both Varro and Zerafin agreed that it seemed to go well enough—but then she reached out to him. You know what his reaction would have been to that. You know it."

Of course, Cliopher did. Fitzroy's visceral reaction to her gesture had likely been what had sent him sprinting through the palace. He nodded, trying to remain calm, unaffected, serene—at least visibly.

Ludvic, not privy to Cliopher's inner turmoil, continued: "You saw the rest, mostly, I believe—as I did. But Varro, Zerafin, and Conju all agreed that it looked like his Radiancy knew her, knew her well, and knew her before he'd become emperor if she would forget the great taboos entirely and reach for him."

At this, Ludvic raised an eyebrow in question. Cliopher thought about it. If he could tell anyone, it was strong, steady Ludvic. "He knew her. He knew her very well," Cliopher whispered, softly, almost inaudibly. "I could tell that he loved her, Ludvic. Loves her. I've never felt such yearning in my entire life. I don't—" he paused, unable to form the words. "When she left, he shattered. I couldn't—"

"He's having quite a time in his private study," Ludvic said softly, gently, intently. "I sent Lord Eldo away, but the rest of us stayed. It sounds like he's called up his own personal thunderstorm. He's…if he's so devastated, then he needs you Cliopher. He needs you."

"But I'm not the one that he wants."

Ludvic's right hand twitched, but he pressed it firmly against his side. Less than a fortnight ago, the commander probably would have reached out, squeezed Cliopher's arm supportively, or even pressed their foreheads together. But not anymore. "His Radiancy loves you, Cliopher," he said calmly, assuredly, resolutely. "Whatever love, if it is love, he feels for Domina Black doesn't change how he feels about you. There are many types of love. If he had a friend before he became emperor—a friend he could touch without any ramification, is it no surprise that he'd be shocked badly by seeing them again? That he'd immediately yearn for what he'd once had?"

Cliopher wanted to believe his friend, but it was challenging, difficult, impossible to believe in the wake of that cold, harsh, hard, how dare you?

Ludvic, possibly recognizing the immense well of his doubt, sighed softly. "Cliopher, he needs you," he repeated, tone certain and sure. "The question you need to ask yourself is, how much do you love him?"

***

Cliopher went. Of course, he did. Because if he would sail out of the world for Fitzroy—like Elonoa'a for Aurelius Magnus—then he couldn't not do this.

It didn't occur to him to clean up, to dress. With Ludvic's challenge ringing in his head, all he could manage was to go forward. He went in his old, tattered night robe and in his bare feet, but he went.

Conju stood at the ivory door waiting for them, wringing his hands fretfully at the enormity of a problem he couldn't solve. Hoping, no doubt, that Cliopher could. For once, Conju didn't remark on Cliopher's outfit. Perhaps Fitzroy's Groom of the Chamber was so worried about his lord that he didn't even notice Cliopher’s attire. Or, more likely, he knew that upsetting Cliopher now would not help the situation. He simply held the door open quietly, silently, hopefully.

Varro and Zerafin remained at the outer door of Fitzroy's study, although some small part of Cliopher knew they should have gone off duty by now. Pikabe was also there, standing at the balcony door as if worried one or the other of the guards' charges might try and flee somehow.

Cliopher didn't say a word to any of them, didn't acknowledge the guards' salutes. He simply walked to the door of Fitzroy's private study. It was impossible not to hear the sounds coming from inside—the thumps and crashes and cracks. Impossible not to feel the prickly ball of torment burning a hole in the centre of his chest.

Drawing in a long, anxious breath, Cliopher knocked firmly. After giving it a long moment, Cliopher knocked again.

He waited longer. Tried to imagine what Fitzroy had experienced, seeing Pali Avramapul for the first time in a thousand years—someone he loved so very greatly—and being unable to accept her touch. No, worse, being desperately afraid of it. He knocked a third time. Fitzroy's name hovered on his lips, wanting to be said. But now wasn’t the right place. Now wasn’t the right time. “Tor,” he said into the silence. "Tor. I'm here."

The following silence lasted a moment, lasted forever—and then the door cracked open. Cliopher noticed how this door didn't open widely, not like his own had. It didn’t matter. A crack was all he needed. He slipped through to the other side.

Fitzroy wasn't waiting by the door; he'd crossed to the other side of the relatively small room—giving Cliopher space or giving himself space, Cliopher wasn't certain. Fitzroy's expression was cold and blank, bleak. He wasn't looking at Cliopher, but rather staring up at the clerestory window high on one wall. A patch of blue through the glass proved that it was still day, much as it felt like it should be midnight.

Cliopher didn't say anything for a few moments, taking in the room's chaotic display. Fitzroy's public study was elegant, spare, refined. This was…this was pure Fitzroy Angursell. The room was stuffed to the gills with mismatched furniture and piles upon piles of books—on shelves, on tables, on a chair, on a lounge, on the floor. And there were fabrics, so many fabrics of all kinds, all colours, all textures. Cushions too, far more than any one person might need. Odd bobbles and trinkets were jammed in all the in-between spaces: stones and shells and things Cliopher couldn't identify. The harp from Navikiani was there as well—and a lute he didn’t recognize. At least there was that. He'd given Fitzroy the chance to have music again.

If there was one surprise, it was the fact that the picture Dora had drawn had been given pride of place, pinned to the wall next to the desk where it was easily visible from near everywhere in the room. Cliopher wasn’t sure what to make of that. He felt a hint of grim amusement—dark, raw, as if he'd been stripped bare. He turned to Fitzroy, who was watching him intently, expression still cold. So cold.

Cliopher didn't know what to say, how to begin. He'd already tried once and Fitzroy had pushed him away.

"What are you thinking, Cliopher Mdang?" Fitzroy asked, his tone as serene as it had ever been.

Cliopher ignored the formality, knowing Fitzroy was trying to keep himself apart, trying not to feel. He answered the question honestly. "Simply that I can see why you’ve never let anyone in here before. Everything out there–" Cliopher waved at the door. "Is the Emperor. This is the one place that is yours."

Fitzroy stared at him contemplatively before brusquely turning away. As Cliopher watched, he deftly navigated several piles of books to reach a simple wooden cupboard. A moment later, he made the return trip through the maze of clutter carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He brought these back to the desk. There was no corkscrew, but the cork came out with barely a touch of Fitzroy's hand—magic at its finest. Fitzroy poured each glass near full to the brim, then slid one across the desk to Cliopher.

Cliopher took it, appreciating that this conversation might go better with a bit of lubrication. Fitzroy picked up his own glass, then reached over to tap it against Cliopher's. The glasses chimed surprisingly tunefully.

"It's an Alinorel custom to make a toast," Fitzroy told him neutrally. "You’ll forgive me if I skip the traditional one—which is always to the emperor. Instead, let's toast to old friends who come bearing uncomfortable truths."

Cliopher didn't say anything to that, but he did take a sip of the wine—a gulp really.

"Sit anywhere if you want," Fitzroy said, waving his hand around. "There's no order."

Rather than sit, Cliopher looked more closely around Fitzroy's private study; it was easier than looking at Fitzroy himself. His eyes stopped on a table with a plain, wood-backed chair sitting on top of it. Under other circumstances, he might have asked about it. Instead, he took another long sip of his wine. "I felt how much you love her," he said softly, quietly, calmly—not looking at Fitzroy, holding his emotions down with everything he had. "But you rejected her. Why?"

"Why do you think?" Fitzroy asked, more serenely than Cliopher had managed. Not that it mattered; they both knew the other was lying.

Cliopher shrugged helplessly, still turned away. "Will you not go to her? You can't…you shouldn't leave it like this."

The knot of pain and yearning at the heart of Fitzroy twisted into devastating sadness, regret, loss. Cliopher stumbled under the desolation of it, turned in time to watch Fitzroy slide down into the desk's chair and begin to weep—weep great, splattering tears. Cliopher’s heart broke; he couldn’t even try for serenity. Not faced with such—

It didn’t matter that Fitzroy loved Pali Avramapul beyond imagining. Cliopher loved him as much. More. Needing to do something, anything, he grabbed a swath of pale blue cotton draped over an end table and hurried around to Fitzroy's side of the desk. Without thought, he tucked the cloth gently into Fitzroy's hands.

When Fitzroy didn't move to wipe his face, Cliopher took the cloth back, then bent down next to Fitzroy and reached a hand over to grasp his jaw ever so gently. Fitzroy didn't pull away, so Cliopher tilted his head to face him, then used the cloth to brush the tears away. This act, however, only prompted a fresh round of tears.

Realizing his attempts were a lost cause, Cliopher tossed the cloth onto the divan, then shoved the desk hard. While the desk didn't move, the noise broke Tor out of his crying fit. "What are you doing?"

Kip felt his cheeks flush. "I wanted to hold you, but the table is in the way." Fitzroy’s emotions sent a pang of something through his chest. It felt almost like hope.

"Oh?" Fitzroy waved a hand and the table rose and dutifully moved back two feet before dropping back to the floor. "Carry on, then."

Cliopher wasn’t certain what to make of Fitzroy’s light attempt at amusement. The hurt was still there, the regret and yearning, but it was as if the tide had turned. Feeling the merest hint—of longing, of want, of need—perhaps for the closeness only Cliopher could provide him, Cliopher obediently moved to stand in front of Fitzroy. Bending down awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around Fitzroy and pulled him into his chest, guided his head down onto his shoulder.

After a few moments, Fitzroy chuckled very softly. "You know I can tell that isn't a comfortable position for you at all, my dear Kip."

Warmth rushed through him, took a small bite out of his cold fear. "It's not at all," Cliopher admitted. "But if I knelt, you'd just have my head in your lap."

Fitzroy huffed, coughed softly, then shook his head somewhat bemused. "Come, I don't want you to get a crick in your neck trying to comfort me." He grabbed Cliopher's hand and stood up. Cliopher had no idea what his intent was until Fitzroy waved his free hand and the precarious piles of books on the divan became precarious piles of books on the already cluttered desk. Once the divan was clear, Fitzroy collapsed onto it, bringing Cliopher with him.

"Now," Fitzroy said, giving him the smallest of smiles and pressing in close to his side—a heat and a warmth Cliopher hadn’t realized he was missing until it was suddenly there. "This should be much more comfortable should you make me weep again."

"I'll try not to," Cliopher said. Self-consciously, he wrapped an arm around Fitzroy's back and squeezed him closer. Realizing that Fitzroy had closed his eyes, Cliopher took a moment to do the same. Fitzroy's emotions were clearer now. There was still pain, and hurt, and yearning—but also soothing relief, rightness. Gone was the frigid cold, the sense of utter despair. The feeling of having been shattered into a dozen pieces. Why Fitzroy had suddenly melted, Cliopher wasn't certain.

"I'm sorry," Cliopher said softly. "I was just trying to understand."

Fitzroy leaned heavily into Cliopher's shoulder and sighed wistfully. "I do love her. And I am upset she didn't know who I was. That she didn't come for me. After so long, you’d think they couldn’t—that she couldn't hurt me—"

"But the ones we love can hurt us most of all sometimes,” Cliopher said, thinking of his own family, of Fitzroy, of how his anger had felt like a mortal wound.

Fitzroy’s agreement was apparent even before he nodded. "Almost everything in me wants to go to her. To make amends. Desperately."

"But you won't?"

"I can't." Agony laced Fitzroy’s words. "If I went, I wouldn't want to come back. I don't know if I would come back. And Zunidh's not ready—"

If Fitzroy left now, before they changed the government so that it could survive without him, Zunidh would too easily fall into chaos. Cliopher sucked in a whistling breath, imagining the consequences.

"—and I couldn't leave without you."

Oh. Cliopher's eyes shot up to meet Fitzroy's.

"You're the other half of my heart, my dear Kip. Did you honestly think—" Fitzroy must have seen something on Cliopher's face, or felt it in the depths of him. "You did," he said softly. "You thought I might what—leave?"

Cliopher didn't say anything. He couldn't. Suddenly he was the one on the verge of tears. "My dear Kip," Fitzroy said, echoing Cliopher’s own earlier action by clasping his jaw and turning his head so their eyes met. Gentle magic singed between them, soothing, comforting, right. "You are ridiculous. I would never leave you."

"But you love her," Cliopher said softly. "So very much. I'd never want to stop—I wish I could let you go."

Fitzroy shifted his hand to Cliopher's shoulder, leaned forward so their foreheads rested together. "Of course, I love her. Fiercely. She is one of my dearest, closest friends even if she had no idea who I was. Even if she—But you, my dear Kip, are the one who is the other half of my heart. My soul."

Cliopher could feel the truth in Fitzroy's words, the fondness, the affection, the love. The need—like a plant for sunlight and water. "Even if she—"

"She asked if there was anything left of me. If I was anything more than the emperor."

Cliopher bolted up straight, pulling right out of Fitzroy’s arms. "How dare she?" he demanded, anger flaring red hot. Immediately after the words left his lips, he thought of Fitzroy’s how dare you? The truth bit deep, but cleansing. Sudden anger sometimes meant sudden words, regretful words—words you didn’t mean. He knew Fitzroy hadn’t meant those. He knew it. Something in him released: an uneasiness, a worry, a fear.

"What am I to do, my dear Kip? The world's not ready for us to leave. We’re not ready.” There was a plaintiveness in Fitzroy’s words, a knowledge that he was on the verge of an irreconcilable loss. His eyes glistened with new tears.

"You can't leave things like this, Fitzroy. She's your family. You love her."

"What else can I do?"

"If you can't go—" he looked at Fitzroy—who shuddered, emotions twisted, tangled, knotted. Fitzroy so desperately wanted to go and so desperately believed that it would be a terrible idea. Not now. Not with the taboos still in effect. Not with the world not ready. "Then let me."

Fitzroy's jaw dropped dramatically, incredulously. "You? You want to play my go-between?"

"Your fanoa," Cliopher said fiercely, grabbing Fitzroy's hands and squeezing them tight. "You don't deserve to lose your family over something that wasn't, isn't your choice. You never wanted to be Emperor. You never wanted to leave them—leave her."

Cliopher felt Fitzroy's agreement, the kindling of his hope. But then, "Wait! You can't go either, my dear Kip. The risks would be enormous. The taboos—"

Cliopher shrugged uncaringly. "I'm certain Ludvic said that the guards aren't there to stop me from doing what I want to do." Fitzroy's eyes widened perceptibly. "So, if I tell him I'm doing this, I'm sure he can find a way for me to do it safely—or as safely as possible given the circumstances."

 ***

After a while, Fitzroy stumbled over to his desk to pull a couple of handkerchiefs out of a drawer. He then searched the room haphazardly until he found a carafe of water between two stacks of books on a side table. He used the water to dampen the handkerchiefs, passing one to Kip before using the other to wipe at his own face.

As Cliopher did the same, he felt a burgeoning sense of bewilderment. He raised his eyes to find his fanoa surveying him with an utterly affronted look. "What are you wearing, my dear fanoa?"

Cliopher glanced down at his tattered blue robe. He undid the belt anxiously, tidied the drape of the robe, then tied the belt again. "I'll have you know this robe is incredibly comfortable. I've had it a long time." At Fitzroy's raised eyebrow, he admitted, "I needed something comforting."

Fitzroy's face fell; Cliopher's heart tightened with sympathetic guilt and shame. "I'm sorry," his fanoa whispered, reaching over to take one of Cliopher's hands, then pressing it against his own cheek. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to—"

"I know," Cliopher interrupted. "I should have known immediately but I was too—"

"Caught up in my emotions?" Cliopher didn't need to nod. Fitzroy already knew the answer. "Oh, my dear Kip. I had thought that being able to feel you and to hear your thoughts would make all of this easier."

Cliopher let out a noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" He turned his hand so he was holding Fitzroy's, then rubbed his thumb gently down Fitzroy's palm. "My great uncle Buru Tovo always told me to listen first, ask questions later. I don't think that advice really works for us. It's too easy to focus on the listening and then to forget to ask questions entirely. I'm sorry I made assumptions."

Fitzroy shifted, raised his other hand so he had Cliopher's clasped between both of his. "You weren't the only one. I felt you pulling away and I couldn't…I couldn't handle that. Not on top of Pa—her leaving. My Kip, I couldn't survive without—"

Cliopher felt Fitzroy's desperation, his silent plea. Tears welled in his eyes again. He blinked hard to keep them from falling. He’d just cleaned the last tears from his face; he didn’t want to start another cascade. Instead, he raised his head so he could meet Fitzroy's eyes, let the magic sizzle between them, welcoming, soothing, right. "I'd never leave you, my dear fanoa," he promised. "Not unless you wanted me to."

"Never then," Fitzroy said fiercely.

***

Eventually, they made it out of Fitzroy's private study. Cliopher emerged first; his eyes, sensitive from too much crying, watered as he stepped into the brighter light of the public study. He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes with the back of a hand before glancing tentatively around the small group awaiting them. Ludvic—standing alone at the door to the terrace. Rhodin and Elish at the outer door—at some point they must have been allowed to relieve Varro and Zerafin. Conju—hovering anxiously by the ivory door, easily the most visibly upset. The guards all wore perfectly bland expressions. Cliopher's time in the private study had obviously given them plenty of time to both discuss events and school their faces to calm.

Before Cliopher could say anything, Fitzroy came out the door behind him. He took in their waiting audience with a feigned serenity Cliopher couldn’t dream of matching. "I must apologize for worrying you all," he said casually. "Ludvic, Cliopher needs to discuss a matter with you. I expect you to facilitate his request with all speed."

"Certainly, my lord," Ludvic answered, giving a well-practiced salute.

"Conju, attend me. I should like to take a bath. It has been quite a day."

"Yes, my lord." Conju nodded firmly, but then shot a concerned glance at Cliopher.

Cliopher gave him a small smile in return, hoping put his friend at ease. Conju wouldn't appreciate his plans at all, he was absolutely certain. Far better for him not to know.

I'll keep him distracted for the next few bells so that he doesn't have time to come check on you. You'll have a hard enough time with Ludvic, Fitzroy told him silently, studiously not glancing his way.

Wish me luck.

Always, my dear Kip. As Fitzroy led Conju off, his emotions wavered, his desire to go rising briefly to butt against his belief that he had to stay. But he didn’t stop, didn’t change his mind. Tell her…I'm sorry.

Once Fitzroy and Conju disappeared into the imperial bedchamber, Cliopher led Ludvic to his own rooms. At some point during his time with Fitzroy, someone had come in to straighten everything. The bed looked fresh-made, no sign at all of his earlier breakdown. He could only hope that someone had dried Fitzroy's pillow or he'd have to find a way to steal it from him later.

Once the door was firmly shut behind them—and after a quick glance into his dressing room and bath to make sure they were empty—Cliopher met Ludvic's eyes and said calmly, "I need to go down into the city to speak with Domina Black."

Ludvic's eyes went wide. "That's—" The commander cut off his own argument, drew in a loud breath, then released it even more audibly. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "I suppose there's a reason you can't simply request her to return to the palace so that you can meet her here—where it is completely safe and protected?"

"She's an old friend of Tor's. Given their relationship, I think requesting and requiring her to come back here would only make the situation worse. I'm trying to mend a broken fence—not tear it down entirely."

Ludvic winced appreciatively. After a moment, he asked, "Does it have to be you, Cliopher? Perhaps I could go in your stead? Or maybe you could write her a letter for me to deliver?"

Cliopher shook his head firmly. "No, it needs to be me. Well, it really should be Tor, but—"

His friend raised an eyebrow in obvious question. Cliopher grimaced. "It's complicated," he admitted. "And not my secret to tell."

Ludvic pursed his lips but didn’t argue further. "You do realize that this is a security nightmare? That the risk isn't only to you—but to his Radiancy? If you die, he dies. You do remember that, I hope?"

Cliopher drew in a shuddering breath at that harsh truth. "If I don't go, I think he'll die anyway. It'll simply take longer."

Ludvic paced across the floor, then stopped to peer out the window. Cliopher followed his friend’s gaze but couldn't make out much from where he stood beyond the fact there was still daylight outside. Surely it had to be late afternoon. He vaguely remembered the fifth bell chiming—or thought he did.

After a few moments, Ludvic walked back across the room to stood before Cliopher. "I assume that you do not want to draw overmuch attention to Domina Black—that you do not want to make this an official visit from the co-ruler of Zunidh."

Cliopher choked on the air at the baldness of his friend's statement, quickly bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. His friend rolled his eyes. "It's who you are now Cliopher, much as you've desperately tried to avoid thinking about it the last few days. I'm not taking you out into the city if you can't admit what you're asking for at least. You, as the co-ruler of Zunidh, someone bound by the Imperial taboos, and bonded to the Sun-on-Earth—who would die if something happened to you—want to sneak out of the Palace of Stars, visit someone who may not be particularly glad to see you, and then return with no one but us being the wiser."

Cliopher tried to find fault in Ludvic's declaration, but couldn't. "Yes. Exactly," he said, biting his lips shut to keep from adding several qualifiers. He followed this with a pointed, the things I do for you, to Fitzroy.

***

Ludvic's plan to get Cliopher out of the palace unseen revolved around the secret passages.

The commander had left Cliopher in his rooms with the admonition to dress in unassuming garments, preferably nothing in the colours of Zunidh. The small stash of Cliopher’s older clothing seemed almost godsent as nothing within Cliopher's current wardrobe could be considered inconspicuous.

He chose a dark green robe that had once been his dressiest outside of his uniform and court costume because it had sleeves long enough to tuck his hands into. He matched it with a beaded belt he found tucked in with one of his other older outfits. Much as he'd worn similar clothing for many, many years—it felt strange putting on just a single over robe after wearing two or more since coming back to Solaara after the vacation with Fitzroy.

He didn't have any older sandals, so he had to make do with the least fancy pair he could find. He'd have to hope that no one thought to consider whether the gold and electrum detailing on them was real.

Ludvic arrived back in his room with a large package that turned out to be clothing for himself. He explained that he’d have quickly raised suspicions if he'd changed in his own rooms and then made his way through the halls and Imperial Apartments to meet Cliopher. He borrowed Cliopher's dressing room to change, coming out a handful of minutes later dressed in an unobtrusive brown kilt and matching shirt, and carrying a very familiar box.

"I asked your nephew to write a letter of introduction while Lord Eldo looked into Domina Black's whereabouts. He's sent it for you to sign and seal,” Ludvic told him. "To that end, he said that the Ouranatha had finished with this and suggested you might appreciate it."

The commander set Cliopher’s writing kit down on the table by the window. "Your nephew said that the Ouranatha had to remove a number of items from your writing kit given the sharp implements taboo, including your penknife. He’s taken those for his own but will happily return them when the time comes."

Cliopher wasn't concerned as much about what wasn't in the box—he was happy for Gaudy to have anything he couldn’t use—so much as for what he hoped still was. He studied the box intently before flipping it over and opening the hidden compartment on the other side. He shoved his hand inside, fingertips seeking out—and finding—the press of high-quality papers and the intensely familiar weight of a book. He let out a soft sigh of relief. He'd kept all of the personal notes that he'd received from Fitzroy over the years in that secret compartment—and the book since it had found its way back into his possession during the palace restorations after the Fall. Cliopher couldn’t help but wonder if the junior members of the Ouranatha tasked with cleansing his apartments had found the secret compartment and, if so, whether they were fans of rebel poetry or simply hadn't opened the book. Not that it truly mattered; he was simply glad to have it back.

Feeling more assured, Cliopher closed the compartment and flipped the case over so he could pull out his seal. He found it easily enough but quickly realized that he could no longer use it. As Cliopher was no longer the Secretary in Chief of the Private Offices of the Lords of State or the Lord Chancellor, the seal would need to be destroyed and replaced. By what, he had no idea. They'd likely need to come up with a new design—which wasn’t going to help with his need for a seal right now.

Tucking his old seal back where it had come from for the moment, Cliopher sorted through the other handful of seals in his case before pulling out a lesser seal that he often used when sending messages on behalf of Fitzroy. The seal would be recognized as coming from the Imperial Household—which should, he thought, suit his purposes well enough. He was going to Domina Black on behalf of Fitzroy, after all.

After he finished sealing the letter, Cliopher tucked his writing kit into a free space on his bookshelf. While he might not have much cause to use it in his current position, he was supremely glad to have it close again.

***

"We need to enter the passages from his Radiancy's bedchamber," Ludvic whispered, poking his head out the door of Cliopher’s room to ensure no one happened to be in the hallway. “There’s a direct route out of the palace from there.”

With no one in sight, Ludvic chivvied Cliopher down the hall and into Fitzroy’s bedchamber—not that he’d used it for sleeping in recent days. The door to the dressing room and imperial baths was closed. Fitzroy's stray thoughts suggested that he was giving them time by taking a lengthy afternoon swim.

That thought reminded Cliopher that he really needed to find a better schedule for his dancing now that Conju had arranged such a nice practice room for him. He made a mental note to ask that someone wake him up an hour earlier; trying to fit time later in the day had already proven to be a lesson in futility.

Without speaking, Ludvic opened the secret passage and motioned for Cliopher to step through. Cliopher did, finding the darkness of the passageway immediately unsettling, particularly when Ludvic shut the way behind them. The complete darkness only lasted a moment, thankfully, before the commander pulled a glowing bead out of a pocket. The warm light radiating from the bead provided enough light to see a few feet down the narrow passageway.

"You don't know the way Cliopher, so I'll go first," Ludvic said, tone barely a whisper. "While I'll go slowly, try and stay back a bit. The last thing we need is for either of us to trip into each other."

At Cliopher's nod, the commander began to make his way down the narrow passage, keeping his strides slow and rhythmic. Cliopher waited until Ludvic was several body-lengths ahead, then followed, easily keeping to the same rhythm. The passage was the same one he vaguely remembered from his midnight trip to alleviate Fitzroy's nightmare to start with, but before they reached the wall with the sun symbol and hidden opening, Ludvic turned a different way—stopping at a featureless wooden door. "You'll need to open it," his friend said quietly, taking a few steps back so Cliopher could approach. "This route can't be opened by anyone except his Radiancy—and now you. It's a direct escape route."

"Has it ever been used as such?" Cliopher whispered.

Ludvic shook his head. "Not that I've found any record of. Of course, knowledge of the passages themselves was lost long before the Fall, so it’s impossible to say for sure."

"Until Rhodin?" Cliopher asked, reaching for the door. It opened before he could lay a finger on it, responding to Fitzroy’s magic, his intent, or both. "I do wonder how this all works. Will it work for Tor's successor?"

“That will need to be tested once the successor is appointed,” Ludvic told him. “Although, given all the work you are doing to make the transition easy, hopefully such an escape option will never be needed."

***

The emperor’s secret escape route went on forever—or so it seemed to Cliopher. At least Ludvic was confident as he led the way through a series of claustrophobic passageways, down steep staircases, and along an endless desolate corridor that felt so deep that Cliopher wondered if anyone would find them if there happened to be a sudden cave in.

I could find you anywhere, my dear Kip, Fitzroy assured him silently, lightening Cliopher's worries significantly and making him smile. While Fitzroy kept Conju fully distracted in the Imperial Apartments, he strengthened his thoughts to also distract Cliopher.

Even as he kept his attention firmly focused on Ludvic's form moving ahead of him, Cliopher let Fitzroy's charming patter occupy his thoughts. My skin is far too rough, Conju. We must do something about it. Perhaps a moisturizing treatment? While we are here, let's apply a new coat of lacquer to my nails. It would be pleasant to consider what new perfumes you have developed recently. I expect you have any number you've been wishing to present to me? Do you suppose we should ask Ylette to make Cliopher's next set of robes in Indigo blue—or would that not match with the orange?

Finally, after what felt like half-a-day but was quite possibly less than a bell, the tunnel ended abruptly in a wall of stone. The mage light in Ludvic's hand lit the stone entirely, showing no hint of a way out. His friend turned to him. "You'll need to open this as well, Cliopher.”

Kip glanced between the bare stretch of stone and Ludvic, somewhat confused. "How did you even learn all this existed if no one but Tor could open it?"

Ludvic chuckled quietly. "Rhodin did most of the exploring on his own. But once aware of the tunnels, his Radiancy wanted to know all of the passages himself. He is the one that found this route—and another direct escape route leading from the upper dais of the throne room. I’m only glad I've not needed to spend much time in them. They are not my idea of a fun adventure."

The note of hesitation in Ludvic's tone reminded Cliopher that his friend didn't much like dark and enclosed spaces. With that in mind, he stepped forward to touch the wall. As he did, the entire wall shifted outwards, revealing a tree-shaded garden. Stepping out, Cliopher quickly realized that they’d been let out in one of the wild gardens. He glanced back in time to see Ludvic guiding the door back into place.

Once the passage was closed, the stone looked like nothing more than the bare wall of a deserted gardener's hut set against the rock that made up the volcanic plug on which the palace was set. Cliopher had to assume the exit route had somehow survived the translocation during the Fall with little-to-no ill effect much as large swaths of the palace had been severely damaged.

Finished with his task, Ludvic turned to Cliopher. "His magic hides all of this from view, except to anyone exiting from the passage. If I came through the gardens in a bell or two, I wouldn't be able to find it."

"Does that mean I need to remember our way back?"

Ludvic gave the hut a suspicious, doubtful look. "Our goal was to get you out of the palace unseen, Cliopher. If you don't mind the guards—who I trust implicitly—knowing that we went somewhere, there's no reason not to take a more traditional route back.”

Cliopher gave his friend a sidelong look. "I’m sorry, Ludvic. You really hated going through there, didn’t you? I can’t imagine you want to rush back in."

Ludvic looked away, somewhat embarrassed. "I may have, perhaps, when I went to speak to your secretaries and fetch my clothing, arranged for Pikabe to take one of your outer robes after we left. He'll be waiting for us by the westernmost door of the palace when we return no matter the time. I admit that I would much prefer to avoid taking the tunnels."

“Of course,” Cliopher immediately agreed. He let himself smile at his friend, forgetting for a moment where they were and what they were doing—the seriousness of his mission to make Pali Avramapul listen to him, to realize that Fitzroy was still…Fitzroy.

***

They took the same innumerable series of steps and landings down the embankment as they had to visit Ludvic’s Azilinti bar. The route seemed much easier and much shorter than the first time he'd made the trip, no doubt because the complex and challenging path was bright and cheerful and incredibly welcome after leaving the dark and lonely tunnels.

Rather than head into the always-crowded Levels, Ludvic took Cliopher on a more circuitous route into the centre of Solaara—showing a surprising knowledge of the city’s back streets and alleyways in order to avoid any situation where Cliopher might brush against someone. Cliopher kept his hands firmly knotted in the sleeves of his robes regardless, his awareness of the incredible risk he was taking growing exponentially as they had no choice but to cross one of Solaara's central squares to get to the street where the Swan—the hotel where Domina Black was staying according to Lord Eldo—was situated.

Cliopher's breath grew anxious and ragged as Ludvic navigated them through the crowd of people, which Cliopher would not even have blinked at a few weeks earlier. There was, technically, plenty of space to maneuver and people in Solaara were fastidious about avoiding accidental touch, but the chaos of everyone's movements had Cliopher imagining the worst possibilities for the couple of minutes it took to get to the opposite side.

Ludvic showed not even a hint of worry as he stayed within arm's reach of Cliopher—not that the Commander of the Imperial Guard would break the taboo against touch unless something truly catastrophic happened—his sharp eyes focused outward even as he murmured directions and warnings that Cliopher responded to with all attention and alacrity. But when they finally reached the street outside of the Swan, Ludvic curled his hand into the guard sign for I need a moment. He then turned away from Cliopher and let out a very harsh breath. His entire body shook once—practically rippling from head to toe. Then, he took another breath, slightly less audible, and turned to Cliopher. "Please do not ask me to let you do this again."

While his words were absolutely emotionless, nearly serene, Cliopher could see the near panic in his eyes—a clear echo of his own. "I hadn't realized how difficult it would be. I knew, but didn't know," he admitted, contrite and apologetic. "Tor needs this, but perhaps there was another way."

"If you've learned something from this, at least there is that." Ludvic let out a much easier breath. "Now, let us go have this conversation with Domina Black and get you back to the palace. You can tell his Radiancy that I'm taking tomorrow off."

***

The Swan was a lovely old hotel without the pretentiousness of the Golden Lion—which was where many lords who did not have suites in the palace stayed. The hotel was painted in warm earth-tones, and its lobby boasted high ceilings, beautiful wicker furniture, and various potted plants and trees that provided a very welcoming feel.

Cliopher knew the Swan primarily as the place where many provincial bureaucrats stayed when in Solaara for meetings. That thought made him take a hasty look around the lobby, but fortunately he didn't see any of the provincial proxies who'd come for the Helma Council. He sighed gratefully—shaking his head when Ludvic glanced his way. He didn't to give the commander anything more to worry about.

Before they could approach the reception desk, a woman dressed in the same shades as the hotel's decor approached them. "Gentlemen, can I help you?"

"Yes," Ludvic said before Cliopher could. "We would like to speak with one of your guests—Domina Black of Stoneybridge. Would you be able to see whether she might be available? I have a letter that you can give her."

The woman took the letter, eyes widening slightly at the seal. Cliopher doubted she recognized what it meant—it was one Cliopher used primarily to send requests from Fitzroy to others in the palace—but she obviously knew it was important. "Of course, sirs. Why don't you have a seat over there while you wait?" She pointed to a pair of chairs at a low table situated near a potted palm tree. "Would you like refreshments?"

"No, but thank you for the kind offer," Ludvic said, giving her a warm smile, before gesturing for Cliopher to go ahead of him towards the seats the hotelier had suggested. At his friend’s pointed look, Cliopher took the seat closest to the wall. Ludvic turned the other chair to have a better view of the lobby before sitting down himself—although he didn’t relax at all. His eyes darted back and forth across the lobby, constantly identifying and assessing potential threats.

Not wanting to distract his friend while he was doing his job, or Fitzroy—who had dragged Conju on a visit to Lady Ylette and Feonie to get an update on Kip's clothing situation—Cliopher thought about what he might say to Pali Avramapul. What he could say to her while still being surreptitious about who she was and who Fitzroy was. There was no way he'd be able to convince Ludvic to wait outside.

After a quarter-of-an-hour, the woman from the hotel came back with a young man about the same age as one of the palace pages. "Domina Black has agreed to see you," she told them. "Teeri here will bring you to her room."

***

As soon as Pali Avramapul opened the door, Cliopher knew she'd been crying—her puffy eyes were quite unmistakable. He wondered whether his own were any better. Even now, his eyes felt puffy and tight, dry, and a bit itchy.

Pali assessed Ludvic with the same intensity that he studied her before turning her attention to Cliopher. She grimaced for a split second before pressing her lips into a tight line. "Come in," she said after a moment, likely aiming for nonchalance—but failing. She backed away from the door so they could enter without coming near, keeping her eyes on Cliopher the entire time. She waved them towards a small bamboo table and three chairs—one obviously brought from somewhere else for their meeting.

After peering into the hotel room's closet, presumably to check for a hidden assassin, Ludvic gestured Cliopher to the seat situated in front of it. He then took the seat to Cliopher's right, leaving the seat opposite—and farthest from Cliopher—to Pali.

Once they'd selected their seats, Pali Avramapul pulled the last one out a foot—whether to give them additional space or herself, Cliopher wasn't certain but he knew Ludvic would be glad for it—then sat down. She studied them for a long moment, not saying a word, dark eyes catching on the shimmering gold marks lacing Cliopher's hands, which he'd set casually on the table once he knew that he'd be well out of accidental touching range.

Finally, she curled her lips slightly—less a smile than a pure, unadulterated challenge. "What brings the Lord Consort here?"

The question caused Cliopher's cheeks to burn red hot and he choked on the opening salvo he'd prepared. Caught completely wrong-footed, he glanced desperately over to Ludvic. If the commander was surprised by Pali’s words, he didn't show it in the slightest. "So, you've heard that one?" Ludvic said politely, calmly, easily. He turned to Cliopher. "You have Prince Rufus to thank for that particular title. We're quite certain it was said in jest, but it's been picked up by people who obviously didn't read the announcement."

The commander turned to Pali Avramapul, who he only knew as Domina Black, and added, "My lord here is technically his Radiancy's equal, his co-ruler. Fanoa, I believe is the word you use, is it not?"

Cliopher, still reeling from Pali's attack, coughed forcefully at Ludvic’s casual use of the word fanoa more so than at his use of the title. Not that he had any right to be surprised. Fitzroy’s honour guards had been in the room while he’d had that conversation with Fitzroy. Of course, they’d have share the information with the other innermost guards. Cliopher’s cheeks warmed wondering what the guards had made of it all.

"Fanoa," he agreed after a moment, desperately trying to feel less discombobulated and failing dismally. Not wanting Pali Avramapul to skewer him, he offered her a further explanation: "I'm a Wide Seas Islander. Fanoa is an Islander term that means two equal but different parts—like two sides of a clam shell. We often use it to speak of the relationship between Aurelius Magnus and Elonoa'a, who have always been considered to be the greatest of friends."

Pali Avramapul's eyes widened and she clenched her hands tight as if holding against a hit Cliopher had not intended to make. "An honour to meet you," she said after a long pause, inclining her head slightly. "If you wanted to speak with me, surely you could have summoned me to the palace."

"We are not here in any official capacity," Cliopher said. "We're here on behalf of Tor."

She winced visibly at his use of the nickname, so different than the name she was used to using. "That's not an official capacity?" she said, quite bitterly he thought. "You've just said you're one and the same."

"Cliopher is here as his fanoa," Ludvic said matter-of-factly. "I am here as his friend, Domina."

"And of course, he couldn't come himself. But for some reason you could?" Pali Avramapul glared at him across the table as if it were a battlefield.

It was a valid question, but Cliopher still felt his cheeks burning. "Ludvic here, who is also the Commander of the Imperial Guard, would say I shouldn't have come either. It was quite a…risk given the Imperial taboos. But the risk isn't why Tor couldn't come."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Oh?"

"I did suggest that Tor come down to see you—to explain."

"Did you? And what did Tor say?" She said the nickname like an epithet.

“He said that if he went, he wouldn't want to come back. That he wasn't sure if he would." Cliopher paused, then finished his thought despite knowing how much it would hurt the woman sitting in front of him. "But he knew he couldn't go, Domina."

"And why not?" she demanded. 'What is so important that he can't simply leave? He's not the emperor anymore. Why didn't he leave after the Fall? He didn't need to stay here. He could have–"

"Madam, that is unworthy of you," Ludvic broke in sharply. "You knew him before. You knew what he stood for. How could you believe he would leave a job half done? He wanted a better world. He wanted a better government. Of everyone in the Empire of Astandalas, he hated it most. This time since—he's used it to forge a much better world here on Zunidh, a much better government. And that work isn't done. It's close, but it's not yet done. Perhaps he'd have left once, if you'd found him just after the Fall. But not now—not when he's so close. When they are so close."

Cliopher stared at Ludvic. The guard commander's face was a riot of emotion: of dedication, of certainty, of love.

He knew. Somehow, he knew.

Did you know that Ludvic knows that you're Fitzroy? he had to ask his fanoa.

Fitzroy’s response was pure shock. Cliopher knew immediately that his fanoa hadn't known, hadn't even had the faintest of clues.

"And truly, Saya Avramapul," Ludvic continued, not aware of Cliopher’s inner turmoil—or Fitzroy’s. "It isn't safe for him to go now. He's still caught by the imperial taboos. If he went with you, could you truly bear the fact that he couldn't touch you? Couldn't touch any of your colleagues? Or the reality that he couldn't share plates, or eat any kind of fresh food, or even hold a knife and fork without causing major magical ramifications?"

Pali's eyes widened with each new taboo Ludvic mentioned. When the commander stopped, she hesitated for the longest time, and then turned to Cliopher. There was far less antagonism in her eyes this time. "I watched That Ceremony—I was there," she said finally, quietly, questioningly. "You truly accepted all that—all those restrictions?"

Cliopher nodded without hesitation. "I did."

"Why?"

Cliopher shrugged, gave her a rueful smile. "Because he didn't want me to die? Because it was the only way? Because I love him? Take your pick."

Pali gripped the edge of the table with both hands and leaned forward until the table near-wobbled, catching Cliopher's eyes and refusing to look away. Her form was fierce but the look in her deep, dark eyes was sad, devastated, broken. "When he left us—no, when he was taken, I followed his trail as far as I could, but it stopped at the edge of the world and he was gone. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished. I thought he'd journeyed into the Sea of Stars." She paused, shuddered, took a deep breath. "I tried to follow him. I tried. For seven days and seven nights, I followed him deep into the Sea of Stars—until I couldn't go any further. Until I was too afraid to go on. Until I stopped."

Her hands loosened on the table. She looked down at them as if unable bear the thought that she had stopped. Cliopher knew from all the stories, all the songs, that Pali Avramapul of anyone was not one to give up. She'd fight any foe. Right every wrong. But she had stopped trying to find Fitzroy, and it had torn her heart into pieces.

Is this where you stop? his Buru Tovo had asked him time and time again. Always, Cliopher had said no. Looking at Pali Avramapul, he realized that sometimes going on wasn't the right answer. But there was so much shame in her voice, so much sadness, regret, self-hatred.

Fitzroy loved her. He would not want to see Pali Avramapul like this, so wounded and hurt because of him. "You would never have found him there," he said softly, kindly, oh so gently. "You were right to stop."

She shuddered, sighed, took several deep breaths. "I was right to stop searching there, perhaps," she agreed. Impossible not to see that the admission was difficult for her. "But I missed him entirely. I wrote books about him—and I still didn't see him. I could have, should have seen it. I should have rescued him."

"You don't need to rescue him now, Saya Avramapul,” Ludvic said, his tone straightforward, soldier to soldier. "Once the Ouranatha figures out how to disentangle the taboos and take them down, he—they–plan to retire."

Cliopher smiled, realizing how he could bring this conversation to a better ending than it might otherwise have—an ending that could give her some hope. The diplomat at his core sang with the rightness of it.

"Fitzroy is going to need to go on a quest to find the next Lady or Lord of Zunidh so that he can pass the world into safe hands before he retires. The plan now is for that to happen at his Jubilee—although recent events—" Cliopher tried not to grimace. "May have changed that timing somewhat. When he goes, I am certain he would appreciate meeting his dearest friends along the way."

Pali Avramapul lifted her head, the slightest hint of hope in her eyes. "And you think he’s still Fitzroy? Still—"

Cliopher nudged Fitzroy so he'd hear his thoughts even as he spoke to his fanoa’s oldest friend. "He's still your Fitzroy. I can’t promise you that he'll be the same as he was when he was young. He’s been sore hurt from his time as Emperor. He's spent nearly a thousand years blanketed by so many restrictions and taboos. It will take him time to figure out who he will be without all that. But Domina Avramapul, I have your Fitzroy in my head at all times. I feel his emotions. I hear his thoughts. I know his heart."

Her eyes widened in surprise, wonder, near-awe. "I can tell you wholeheartedly that he loves you Pali Avramapul," Cliopher told her simply, softly, truthfully. "The hardest thing that Fitzroy has had to do in a very long time was pull away from you today. But he was so desperately, desperately afraid of hurting you."

Her eyes lightened a fraction, the pain and hurt in them easing the barest degree. It was a start, but Cliopher hoped that he could do something more. "Do you know where your compatriots are?" he asked, trying to make his tone neutral. "I'm certain he would be glad for your good company on his quest for an heir."

Her expression turned infinitely sad. "I wish I did. But I've looked—"

Cliopher smiled fully at Pali Avramapul. Here, then, was something that he could give her. A gift worthy of her love for his fanoa. "While I've promised not to put myself at such risk again, perhaps Ludvic here—" He glanced at his friend, the Commander of the Imperial Guard, who Cliopher now knew was somehow well aware of the fact that the Last Emperor of Astandalas was also Fitzroy Angursell of the Red Company. "Might introduce you to our good friend Rhodin. He has for himself a pen pal you might be interested in—"

***

In bed later that night, cuddling a clinging Fitzroy—who'd thrown himself at Cliopher the moment he'd returned to the Imperial Apartments and refused to let go—against his chest, Cliopher considered the importance of friendship, and trust, and love. He couldn't begrudge Fitzroy all the love and friendship and adventures he’d had with the Red Company. They were as dear to his fanoa as Cliopher's family was to him. All he could do was mourn the fact that Fitzroy hadn't had them—or any others—in his life for so very, very long.

I had you, his fanoa said silently, appreciatively, assuredly. Fitzroy flung an arm over Cliopher's chest and pulled himself up so he was sprawled half over Cliopher, head tucked tight against Cliopher's own, so close they could feel each other's breaths on their cheeks. It was enough.

Chapter Text

The day after the visit from Pali Avramapul was not nearly as excruciating as Cliopher expected it to be—in part because of Fitzroy's admonishment to not even try to explain what had caused him to rush out of the meeting with the Helma Council. “One benefit of your new position, my dear Kip, is that you don't need to explain anything,” Fitzroy had told him at breakfast when he'd anxiously raised the question of what to say. “If you don't bring the matter up, I promise you that no one else will.”

Much to Cliopher's surprise, Fitzroy was entirely correct. When his secretaries arrived at the third hour, neither Gaudy nor Tully mentioned the incident. They simply provided him with a list of action items coming out of the Helma Council meeting. Lord Eldo was also impressively circumspect given he'd been in the study to see Cliopher chastise Tor and for the Sun-on-Earth to lose his vaunted control. The young lordling arrived in Cliopher's office exhausted and anxious, as if he'd spent the entire night worrying about what he'd find the next morning. But while he gave Cliopher a deeply assessing look after standing from his obeisances, he kept his greeting to a simple, “Good morning, my lord.”

After a bell of dealing with the tangled remnants of the previous day's activities—without ever once referring to the reason they were doing so—Cliopher dismissed Zaoul and Tully to prepare briefing notes for his afternoon of meetings and Gaudy to do the same for Tor. “Lord Eldo, please remain,” Cliopher said.

If anything, Lord Eldo's anxiety peaked as the other secretaries made their bows and headed to their next tasks. His eyes were glassy, his body near rigid, his breathing noticeable if not actually audible from Cliopher's seat at his desk.

He expects you to dismiss him, perhaps send him home. He might even worry about execution.

“What?”

Lord Eldo's eyes went wide at Cliopher's cry, then he sank down into the formal obeisance. It took Cliopher a moment to realize the young lord was actually trembling.

“Please rise, Lord Eldo,” Cliopher said as gently as he could. “I apologize for making you concerned.”

Lord Eldo raised his forehead from the floor but didn't stand. “It's not yours to apologize, my lord.”

“It is if you're as worried about being executed as Tor believes you are,” he said, somewhat affronted. “I should hope that you've worked with me long enough by now to know that I'd never condone such a thing.”

Lord Eldo stared down at the floor. “My lord,” he mumbled, still visibly shaking, still very distressed.

Cliopher realized his words weren't helping as much as he hoped they would. Perhaps he needed to be more blunt. “Yesterday, you saw us—Tor and I—in a moment of high emotion,” he said. “That isn't your fault, nor is it something either of us would ever punish you for.”

Lord Eldo's head lifted further, although his eyes remained downcast. “My lord?”

“I can't promise you won't see us in a similar situation in the future, Lord Eldo. Our connection is by nature quite emotional. Just because we can feel each other's emotions and hear each other's thoughts doesn't mean that we will always understand each other.” Cliopher shook his head ruefully. “While I hope it won't happen to such a degree as it did yesterday, I can't imagine that it won't happen at all.  If seeing us at the occasional odds is going to upset you, I can ask Saya Kalikiri to find you a different—”

“Please don't, my lord!” Lord Eldo broke in. Cliopher's newest secretary immediately regretted his breach of etiquette, his face turning near the shade of a beet, his expression shifting from pleading to appalled.

Cliopher smiled at him, glad for such a vehement response. “I wouldn't unless you asked,” he assured the young lord. "I simply want you to know that it is an option and one neither Tor nor I would fault you for making. I fully appreciate that we might be a bit too much for some people.”

If anything, Lord Eldo's face became redder. “It's an honour to work for you both, my lord. But—” he looked back down at the floor.

“You can still ask me questions, Lord Eldo,” Cliopher admonished gently. “I haven't changed that much in a fortnight.”

Lord Eldo chewed on his lower lip for a long moment, as if debating whether Cliopher meant what he said. Then he took a deep, shuddering breath and looked Cliopher in the eyes. “It's only…are you both well after what happened, my lord?”

Cliopher blinked, surprised at the tone of frightful concern in Lord Eldo's voice. “We are both perfectly fine. It was a misunderstanding; we resolved it not long after you left,” he said after a moment, happy to provide reassurance. “Between you and I—and Tor of course,” he said, gesturing towards his head, “I don't think Tor and I could ever be upset at each other for very long.”

Let's not test it. Fitzroy suggested.

Agreed, Cliopher told him fondly.

“I am glad all is well, my lord,” his secretary said, not privy to Cliopher's silent conversation but obviously well aware of it from how his lips curled into a relieved smile.

“Now, please get up. You can help me draft responses to the correspondence I reviewed this morning.”

***

By the first bell after noon, Cliopher had mostly forgotten the more embarrassing events of the previous day—well, not forgotten exactly, but cast them out of his mind in favour of more immediate concerns, including dealing with the citizen petitioners who had waited for considerably longer than they should have in order to have their situations heard.

Cliopher wasn't a stranger to hearing the stories of citizen petitioners. Ever since he'd become the Lord Chancellor, it had been his job to be the final arbiter of problems prior to their being raised to his Radiancy. And long before that, as his Radiancy's secretary, Cliopher had spent a not insignificant amount of time listening as the Sun-on-Earth dealt with the most troublesome challenges and issues and made decisions on situations that were not expressly codified in law, but that needed resolution regardless.

What Cliopher wasn't expecting—although perhaps he should have—was how much the situation of the last few weeks would affect his interactions with the citizen petitioners.

He expected the change to fancier garments. He even expected the change in location—because the room he typically held meetings in was quite small and contained nothing more than a table and comfortable chairs with no distance at all between him and those that he spoke with. While he preferred to hold meetings that way—it made people unused to the workings of government more inclined to talk when he treated them less as petitioners and more as individuals with problems he could help resolve—the introduction of the taboos made such meeting dynamics impossible. Not to mention the original room didn't have space for Cliopher's guards—Elish and Ludvic, the latter of whom had not taken the day off as much as Cliopher knew he deserved it—or more than one of his secretaries, or Aioru and Kiri and several of their secretaries.

Cliopher didn't expect the citizen petitioners, many of whom had come from across Zunidh to complain about specific problems with the government, to be as inclined as those in the Palace of Stars to embrace etiquette and protocol. The truth, he found, was nearly the opposite.

Someone—possibly Lord Lior, whom Cliopher was beginning to consider the bane of his existence—had decided that using one of the smaller of the palace's audience halls would be appropriate for Cliopher's meetings with both the citizen petitioners and the various ambassadors who had requested appointments. The chosen audience hall had a fancy chair—Cliopher absolutely refused to call it a throne—set on a low dais that provided a full ten feet of separation between the one sitting in the chair and the petitioner. A large desk set to the side of the dais offered plenty of room for Zaoul and Tully, Kiri and Aioru, and several of the secretaries attached to the Private Offices.

Since everyone other than Cliopher was quite happy with the chosen location, he held his tongue. He did not, however, hold his thoughts—giving Fitzroy a silent earful on how inequitable such a meeting would look in the eyes of the petitioners who wanted to know they were being treated fairly.

You aren't the Lord Chancellor anymore, my dear fanoa, Fitzroy told him. Anyone who has waited weeks for a meeting with you will know this. If they weren't at the ceremony themselves, they will have spoken to people who were. They will know full well who they are meeting with. They won't be put off by the formalities in place to keep you—us—safe.

Trust Fitzroy to focus on the safety side of things. It was the one argument Cliopher couldn't argue with because the last thing he ever wanted to do was put Fitzroy in jeopardy.

The first petitioner proved Fitzroy—and everyone but Cliopher—right. The man, dressed in loose-fitting tunic and trews matched with a sleeveless over robe in a slightly faded but cheerful green, came into the audience hall quite confidently. But the moment he saw Cliopher, the man threw himself to the floor so hard that Cliopher winced in sympathy.

Cliopher quickly gestured for him to rise—which the man did, a bit awkwardly and favouring his right side.  “Sayo Daredri,” Cliopher said, recalling the man's name from the briefing materials he'd read. “My apologies for making you wait so long for a meeting.”

The man's eyes widened dramatically. “Oh, it was no problem to wait, my lord!” he said effusively. “It was exciting to be here for such a historic event.”

Cliopher couldn't help but smile at the man's enthusiasm—until he realized the man was talking about his bonding with Fitzroy.

Of course, it's a historic event, my dear Kip. How many letters of congratulations did you receive?

Cliopher let out the softest huff but remained focused on the man standing before him. “I am glad the wait wasn't a struggle for you, Sayo Daredri,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now, I've read over the materials regarding your request, but would you please explain it in your own words?”

***

By the time Cliopher was finished with the citizen petitioners, his head ached abominably. Responding to the requests and recommending solutions to the challenges wasn't the difficult part; trying to channel Fitzroy's serenity in the face of ridiculous levels of awe and reverence and wonder was.

Half of the petitioners seemed to assume that Cliopher was now some kind of god—or at least a demigod—as a result of his bonding with the Sun-on-Earth. One elderly woman even went so far as to request that he give her a blessing. Thankfully Aioru was listening attentively. While Cliopher stared entirely dumbfounded, his chosen successor as Secretary in Chief interrupted to suggest that the woman visit a shrine down the hill from the Palace of Stars as Cliopher had to meet with the next petitioner.

Cliopher wasn't certain whether the petitioners who thought he was a god were better or worse than the ones who thought he was now the Lord Consort of Zunidh. Neither was accurate, but the first was far easier to refute than the second.

Does it bother you so much, my dear fanoa? Fitzroy asked tentatively as Cliopher dictated notes to Zaoul, who was acting as his recording secretary.

I don't want anyone to ever think of me as a god, Cliopher told him forcefully. I don't know how you can stand it.

No one ever believed me when I said it wasn't true, Fitzroy told him. Eventually, I gave up trying.

Cliopher could hear frustration in Fitzroy's tone, but also self recrimination. You did what you had to do to survive, my dear fanoa, he said fiercely, putting as much belief, certainty, and love into his words. And you did.

“My lord?” Aioru said, drawing Cliopher's attention to the fact he'd been chatting with Fitzroy silently for the last few minutes. “Do you need a break before the meetings with the ambassadors?”

Cliopher made the mistake of shaking his head as it sent a stab of pain through his skull. He rubbed his temples. “Apologies,” he said ruefully. “I got distracted by Tor.”

“It is no matter, my lord,” Aioru said easily. “If you need more time, we can push the meetings back…”

Cliopher waved his hand dismissively. “It wasn't important. Let's go ahead. I don't expect these meetings will be as fraught.”

 ***

The meetings with the ambassadors went as smoothly as Cliopher could have hoped—which was good but didn't do anything to soothe his increasingly impossible to ignore headache. At least none of them gave him any more honour than they had before his bond with Fitzroy. All were very careful to show respect but not subservience to the Last Emperor of Astandalas and current Lord of Zunidh. The same could be said for their greetings to Cliopher. But no matter how much he enjoyed his short conversations with each of them, Cliopher’s headache was far above the waterline by the time Ludvic and Elish escorted him back to the Imperial Apartments.

Fitzroy was standing in the seventh anteroom waiting for him, much to the consternation of the room's guards who had maintained their positions despite the addition of Pikabe and Ato. With Ludvic and Elish arriving with Cliopher, it made for quite the tangle of guards. But Fitzroy ignored everyone else, hurrying towards Cliopher the moment he came through the door. “You look exhausted, my dear Kip—and you feel even worse. Don't even think about going to your office.”

“I should write up my notes,” Cliopher said wearily. “The headache is not so bad as some. There's no reason I can't—”

Fitzroy met his eyes in a surge of magic, recognition, and worry. “I always knew you overworked yourself as my Lord Chancellor but was never able to prove it. Now I can feel you, however. The only reason I didn't interrupt your meetings was because I knew how much you'd fret. But you are certainly not going to be working anymore today.”

With that, Fitzroy pressed close to Cliopher's side and wrapped an arm around his back. The moment Cliopher could feel Fitzroy's warmth, he let out a sigh and sagged into him. “Sorry,” he apologized, grabbing on to his fanoa’s other arm for balance.

“Next time, have our secretaries reschedule some of the meetings. The ambassadors could easily have waited a day or two. Why insist on meeting everyone today?”

Cliopher's cheeks heated. “Ludvic mentioned that security would need to be heightened in any area where I was meeting people. I thought it would be easiest to do everything at once.”

“Commander Omo?” Fitzroy raised a sharp, inquisitive eyebrow.

The Commander of the Imperial Guard grimaced. “I apologize, my lord. I explained a little about how I arrange security when I asked Cliopher for permission to speak to your secretaries about his schedule. I in no way intended to imply that doing so was a hardship or that it would be an imposition.” Ludvic shook his head. “If anything, the junior guards are more than glad to have Cliopher under our purview. They enjoy being tested with different scenarios and guarding him while he's out and about gives them a challenge.”

Ludvic glanced from Fitzroy to Cliopher, then back to Fitzroy. “Given the propensity of guards here and our location, may I set down my spear for a moment, my lord?”

“Please do, Ludvic.” Fitzroy waved his hand in a gesture of acceptance. Even exhausted, Cliopher could feel his fanoa's delight at the question, at Ludvic's desire to break traditional protocol and etiquette. Cliopher wondered how much of that willingness was a result of Fitzroy now being aware that Ludvic knew who he was and that Ludvic knew that he knew.

Regardless of the reason, Ludvic put words to action. He signaled to the other guards in the room, set his spear against the wall, then very pointedly stepped away from his position. Only then did he purposely meet Cliopher's eyes. “Cliopher, every guard in the palace is well aware of your propensity to run around the palace trailing secretaries and pages and flustered bureaucrats,” he said, tone surprisingly fond. “Events of yesterday notwithstanding—I expect we would all agree that those were an exception—no one expects you to sit still. The guard is well prepared for anything you might want to do and anywhere you might want to go in the Palace of Stars.”

Cliopher felt a stab of guilt—his own or Fitzroy's he wasn't certain. Possibly both. “I've had a dozen meetings in one afternoon any number of times,” he said, sticking to the matter at hand rather than apologizing again. “It's efficient.”

“Have you had so many meetings in one day while also having to manage the weight of being his Radiancy's magically bonded counterpart, with all the rituals, etiquette, and expectations associated with it?”

Fitzroy's lips barely twitched as he glanced sideways at Cliopher, not that he could hide his delight at Ludvic's set down. Cliopher felt a rush of embarrassment because the answer to Ludvic's question was so obviously no. “I may have, perhaps, not considered that my change in position might cause some meetings to be more fraught than usual,” he admitted. “I didn't think people outside the palace would care so much—or be so…effusive in their opinions on our bonding.”

Ludvic shook his head. “Cliopher, there was a week-long worldwide holiday—”

“And you received four thousand, six-hundred and twenty-nine congratulatory letters according to Tully,” Fitzroy broke in. “That's in addition to the six thousand, two-hundred and twelve that I received.”

“You received six-thou—never mind, I don't want to know.” Cliopher took a stuttering breath. “I've learned the lesson. Next time I'll tell our secretaries to limit meetings with people outside the bureaucracy to a handful a day.”

“Good,” Fitzroy said, squeezing Cliopher very gently. “Now, let me help you so you don't fall over. You can barely keep your eyes open, your head hurts so much. Ludvic, can you find Conju and ask him for some of his most calming bath oil for Cliopher?”

“Of course, my lord,” Ludvic said, grabbing his spear again and gesturing for the guard on the door to Fitzroy's study to open it. He then waited for Fitzroy and Cliopher to pass through the study and across the threshold of the ivory door before hurrying off to find Conju.

“Will you let me take care of you?” Fitzroy asked softly as they made their way to Cliopher's room.

I'll be fine. You don't…

“I want to,” Fitzroy said fiercely, a feeling that echoed loudly through Cliopher.

He nodded slightly, head aching too much to deny his fanoa anything. The swell of Fitzroy's relief was a balm. Very carefully, Fitzroy helped Cliopher cross to the dressing room.

“Can you stand by yourself, my dear Kip?” Fitzroy asked.

“I've a rambunctious headache, not a wasting disease,” Cliopher told him, pulling out of his fanoa's grasp.

“Fierce headaches can cause dizziness,” Fitzroy said placidly. “Here, let me get those.”

Cliopher stilled his hands in the middle of trying to undo the tie behind his neck. Fitzroy's fingers danced across his back, undoing the fire gem mantle and resting it on the dressing room's chair. He then nimbly undid the ties running down Cliopher's back. “Can you slide the over robe off?” Fitzroy asked. Cliopher did so, even as his fanoa began undoing the ties of the middle robe.

“I'll take that Cliopher,” Conju said, coming quietly into the dressing room, one hand outstretched. Cliopher offered the robe in his hands to his friend—who hung it up quickly before darting into the bathing room. A moment later, Cliopher heard the sound of water pouring into the tub.

“You can take that one off now, my dear Kip,” Fitzroy instructed quietly. Cliopher did so. With Conju still in the bathing room, Fitzroy took the middle layer of Cliopher's outfit out of his hands and folded it over the chair’s back. “Let me,” he said when he was finished, turning back to Cliopher and reaching to tug the hem of the final robe up. Cliopher held still as Fitzroy pulled the robe carefully over his head, leaving Cliopher in nothing but tunic and trousers. He then made quick work of the former, sliding it over Cliopher's head.

After folding the tunic somewhat haphazardly and setting it down on the chair, Fitzroy took Cliopher's arm. “Let me help you into the bath.” Cliopher's head hurt too much to argue.

As they entered the bathing room proper, the scent of lavender and fresh mint prickled in Cliopher's nose. He sucked in a breath, finding the moist air and scent immediately soothing. His fanoa guided him to the edge of the bath. “Can you do the rest yourself?” Fitzroy asked, a note of question and something else in his voice. “Don't worry about washing. Just get right into the bath. The hot water will help.”

Cliopher nodded ever-so-slightly—then, holding the edge of the bath for support, he slipped out of his trousers and undergarments and stepped directly into the bath.

“Sit down, my dear,” Fitzroy instructed quietly. Holding onto the side of the bath for dear life, Cliopher followed the direction, slipping down into the water. He let out a long sigh as the warmth enveloped him almost to his neck.

“See, I told you,” Fitzroy said after a while. “Now, can you lean back against the edge of the bath?”

As Cliopher moved to do so, Conju broke in with a hurried, “Wait a moment, Cliopher.” Cliopher froze as his friend rustled in a cupboard before coming back to the bath. "Good. Now lean your head back—slowly.”

Cliopher did, finding something soft pressed against the edge of the bath like a pillow—a rolled up towel he realized. “Thank you, Conju.”

“Now, let me…” his fanoa said.

Cliopher had no idea what Fitzroy did next, but Conju's shocked, “My lord!” suggested it was not appropriate etiquette at all.

“Then get me a chair if you would, Conju.” Cliopher imagined Fitzroy had either tried to sit on the edge of the bath or on the floor. Which would upset Conju more, he wasn't certain.

A few moments later, he heard the sound of a chair being set down right behind his head and someone—it had to be Fitzroy—sitting down. “Now, my dear Kip,” Fitzroy said, confirming Cliopher's guess. “I'm going to rub your head and shoulders.”

Cliopher's eyes widened a bit even as Fitzroy put action to words, skimming his fingertips through Cliopher's short hair before starting to rub small circles over his temples. Cliopher hissed in relief. He lost track of time as Fitzroy massaged his head, then worked his way slowly down to his neck and shoulders. Whether it was their sense of each other or something else entirely, Fitzroy seemed to know exactly where the worst of Cliopher's tension was, melting it away.

“Do fanoa exchange tokens?” Fitzroy asked softly, quietly, curious.

“Mmmnnn. Efanoa,” Cliopher answered, barely able to think, eyes half closed against the soothing pressure of Fitzroy's fingertips. “We'd need to talk to the Efa.”

“That's one of your lore-holders? Are they in Gorjo City?” Fitzroy's voice was so soft, assured. Cliopher didn't even question how he knew about lore-holders.

Cliopher agreed wordlessly. “...might be a while. Sorry.

It's not your fault, my dear Kip.

It should be acknowledged. I want—

Fitzroy's fingertips moved back to rubbing circles on his temples. Shh, now. Don't worry. We'll get there.

What little remained of Cliopher's tension softened under the light bubbling of Fitzroy's certainty, his happiness, his love.

***

Some time later, Fitzroy said quietly, encouragingly: “Come now, my dear fanoa. Conju would not be impressed if you fell asleep in the bath and I had to pluck you out.”

Cliopher could sense Fitzroy's amusement at the idea and knew he wouldn't mind. Still, making a soft noise of regret at having to move, he sat up. He yawned mightily, surprised to find the worst of his headache had evaporated under his fanoa's administrations.

How did you know what to do?

Sardeet taught me—taught us all really.

All being the Red Company, Cliopher knew. You'll need to thank her for me when you find her again.

Do you suppose Pali will…

Cliopher knew what his fanoa was asking. If she's really Rhodin's pen pal, Pali will find her.

I hope so. Fitzroy's regret wafted through them. Cliopher's heart ached, but it wasn't something he could soothe like his fanoa had his headache. Only time and the deconstruction of the taboos would do that.

Feeling heavy, Cliopher turned and heaved himself out of the bath. His eyes widened as he realized he had quite an audience. His fanoa he was prepared for, but Conju had remained as well—and beyond him, Pikabe and Ato stood at the doorway. Of course they did—because Fitzroy was there.

Before he could consider the strangeness of it all, Conju held out a towel. “Here, Cliopher,” he said matter-of-factly, entirely unphased by the situation.

Cliopher accepted the towel with a murmur of thanks. Once he was dry, his fanoa insisted on helping him into his night robe, then chivvied him out into the bedchamber and straight into bed. After flinging off his own fancy robes—or, more precisely, taking each layer off carefully but far more quickly than Conju appreciated—Fitzroy climbed into bed too. Without thinking, Cliopher pressed into his side, wrapping one arm over his fanoa's chest.

“Better?” Fitzroy asked after a while.

“Mmmhmm,” Cliopher mumbled, snuggling even closer.

***

After sleeping for two bells, Cliopher woke up long enough for Fitzroy to completely unnecessarily hand-feed him two slices of toast and encourage him to drink some water. Then he half-dozed against Fitzroy as his fanoa read from a book of Ystharian poetry—not silently like he'd been reading Aya's book to Fitzroy, but out loud. It wasn't his poetry of course, but he spoke so lyrically that Cliopher wished he could hear him reciting his own works—or, even better, playing them.

A shiver of want ran through Fitzroy at Cliopher's thoughts, but it was followed too soon by a wave of bleak desolation.

…so long— the thought was so quiet Cliopher only caught a couple of words, but his fanoa's grief tore at his heart. He twisted sideways, tugged gently on Fitzroy's arm until he did the same, then grabbed Fitzroy's hands and cradled them to his chest, close to his heart. As their eyes met, a mere glimmer of his fanoa's magic rippled through him, nothing like the usual tide, or river, or flood. He dipped forward until his forehead pressed against Fitzroy's, until they were sharing every breath. When even that didn't reassure his fanoa, Cliopher pulled Fitzroy into his arms, curling around him as best as he could. One day, he promised, pressing his lips to the top of Fitzroy's head. One day.

***

Cliopher woke to Fitzroy shifting restlessly in his arms, trying to press himself even closer than he already was. Kip, he heard—Fitzroy's sleepy mind voice a near desperate plea. Don't leave me. Don't—

“It's alright, I have you,” Cliopher whispered fiercely, tightening his own hold. I have you, my dear Fitzroy. My dear fanoa. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

“You won't leave?” Fitzroy begged, still near half-asleep. Ever?

Cliopher wondered what nightmare his fanoa had seen, but couldn't ask, didn't want to bring the memory forward and have both of them resonating with it. “Never,” he answered fiercely, pushing every promise he could ever make into that one word. “You're my fanoa. My everything. Even if we didn't have this bond between us, I would never leave you. Not by choice. And if you're ever taken from me, I promise I'll find you. If it takes me a thousand years, I will find you.”

Fitzroy let out a harsh breath. “Of course you would, my dear Kip,” he finally said, words more lucid, emotions softening from desperate fear to something more hopeful. He pressed his head into Cliopher's neck, his breathing calming to a light tickle of air on Cliopher's skin. “Are fanoa truly forever, then?” he asked, the question a bare hint of a whisper in Cliopher's ear. 

“Fanoa can mean whatever we want it to,” Cliopher told him immediately. “It's a commitment. A promise. In the Vangavaye-ve, it's treated similarly to a marriage.”

If anything, Fitzroy's uncertainty grew, his anxiety twisting into knots that made Cliopher choke. He bit his lip hard, swallowed, then shook his head. Fitzroy didn't want a definition. He wanted something he could hold on to, that he could cling to when the nightmares came.

“I want our definition of fanoa to mean forever,” he said earnestly, honestly, longingly, brushing his head gently against Fitzroy's. “Is that what you want, my dear–”

Fitzroy's agreement didn't need words. It burst through Cliopher with the strength of a great wave, cascading through him, through them, with such dizzying certainty that Cliopher couldn't do anything but cling to his fanoa, utterly convinced there was no other place that he, that they, wanted to be.

***

They met with the Council of Princes two days later. Cliopher was glad for the quiet day in between meetings as he woke the day after the citizen petitioner and ambassador meetings drained from the aftereffects of his blistering headache and the broken sleep that he'd had. Fitzroy hadn't been any better. He spent most of the day clinging close, as if he didn't want to let Cliopher out of his sight. Not that Cliopher minded; he felt decidedly better when they were together. So, they spent half the day reading reports and answering missives together. They did this on the balcony—Conju-provided coffee and tea and pastries readily at hand—which no doubt amused both their secretaries and their guards.

A quiet dinner, a better sleep for both of them, and a morning to review all of the matters expected to come up in the Council, and then it was time.

Cliopher didn't even question Conju's appearance to help him dress for the Council of Princes. He simply sighed audibly and let his friend layer him up with a wealth of fabrics and cloth-laden gems.  The only things he refused were makeup and jewelry. He had his efela-ko tucked under his robes reminding him of where he came from—that was enough.

He met Fitzroy outside the imperial bedchamber. His fanoa was garbed in a superlative outfit that mirrored his own, but in shades of white and black and imperial yellow while his were white and midnight blue and brilliant orange. They both wore cloth of gold accents, topped by mantles. Cliopher wore his fire gem mantle, Fitzroy one encrusted with diamonds that picked up and reflected the flames cast by Cliopher's own.

“You look magnificent,” Fitzroy said, eying Cliopher appreciatively.

Cliopher's cheeks warmed. “Conju is very talented. I didn't quite realize how much effort went into donning your costumes. It took most of a bell.”

Fitzroy's lips curled up in the hint of a smile. “I expect that was Conju being extraordinarily cautious given you're so new to the taboos. Dressing will get quicker.”

“It won't get quick enough,” Cliopher said wryly. But to soften the edge of the annoyance he knew Fitzroy had to be feeling from him, he held out an arm. “Should we go see what antics the Princes have gotten up to?”

***

The only change to the chamber where the Council of Princes met was the addition of a second chair—most definitely not a throne—next to the one Fitzroy usually sat in.

As they arrived, Cliopher caught sight of Kiri standing behind Cliopher's usual seat—or the seat that had been his usual. Now it was hers, he supposed, or Aioru's once he was ready. Lord Eldo stood to her right, ready to take on the role of recording secretary again. Cliopher could only hope Eldo's presence might temper his father's antipathy somewhat as it had at the Council's last meeting, but given all that had happened since, he expected it was a false hope.

Everyone in the room went down into the obeisances. Cliopher bit his lip hard to distract himself while Tor made the appropriate gesture to rise. His fanoa glanced at him sideways, face perfectly serene, while under the surface he seemed almost amused at Cliopher's awkwardness.

Not amused, Fitzroy assured him. Delighted that you haven't changed. Not that I thought you would, of course.

Cliopher smiled, forgetting his own attempt at serenity entirely. At least no one seemed to be looking at him as they were still busy rising from their obeisances. 

Once everyone had taken their seats, Fitzroy reached over and took Cliopher's hand, squeezing it pleasantly. Cliopher's cheeks blazed at his fanoa's show of affection in front of the Council of Princes.

It's not like we're trying to hide it, Fitzroy said. I don't think it's something we can hide. Do you?

No, but there is such a thing as decorum, Fitzroy. We're in a meeting.

The etiquette is that the highest ranked people in the room set the level of formality, is it not? If we want to hold hands, we can.

Fitzroy oozed so much mischievousness, Cliopher had to hold his breath to keep from reacting visibly. But he was quite certain his fanoa felt his capitulation and fondness given Fitzroy kept a tight hold on his hand as he turned to address the Council.

“We recognize that it has been quite chaotic since my heart attack,” Fitzroy said. “But we hope that all of that is now behind us. Let Us reassure you that the activities of this Council are not expected to change significantly given that Cliopher was already an active participant in these meetings as Lord Chancellor. As my…partner in all things, he will continue to lead the transformation of Our government so that we can both retire on the occasion of the jubilee.”

Cliopher watched the princes as his fanoa spoke; several gave him agreeable nods, including his Radiancy's sister, who paired hers with what seemed to be a genuine smile. Others appeared perfectly nonchalant, not even glancing his way. Only a few showed actual signs of displeasure, including both his fanoa's great aunt, Princess Anastasiya of Xiputl—who looked near apoplectic at Cliopher's position at Fitzroy's side—and Prince Rufus of Amboloyo, who looked shockingly frustrated by it. 

Fitzroy brought his opening remarks to a close and paused for a long moment. When none of the princes indicated a desire to speak, he nodded firmly. “Now, let us move onto the first item of discussion…the proposed new route for the sea train extension.” He gestured to the Princess of Mgunai. “Would you like to open the discussion?”

As the Princess began to speak, Cliopher felt his fanoa relax, not that he showed any outward sign of doing so. Fitzroy did not, however, let go of Cliopher's hand.

***

Cliopher appreciated not having to spend every moment of the Council of Princes on his back-foot trying to parry the jabs of the different princes on specific issues. He listened attentively to ensure Kiri made the perspective of the Service clear and cogent, once in a while interrupting to ask a question or bring up a point she had glossed over. She took his occasional interruptions with appreciation and grace—no doubt from her long experience working with him.

Surprisingly, the princes did not push Kiri nearly as hard as they often pushed him; whether that was because the issues they were discussing were less controversial than usual or they were showing her a modicum of respect by giving her time to settle into her new role, he wasn’t certain. But each time she provided an excellent summary of an issue or answered a question perfectly, he nodded along.

He was feeling quite good about the progression of the meeting for a change when the prospect of making Nijan a separate administrative district came up. The discussion started off well, with Kiri providing a precis of Cliopher’s last excursion to Nijan—right before Fitzroy’s heart attack—and his consultations with the various stakeholders.

The trouble started when one of the Jilkano princes, the Prince of Haion City introduced the issue of one of the preeminent aristocrats in the region, Lord Zivuno—who’d lost his fortune in a series of ill-advised investments, including a number of concerns that had turned out to be less than legitimate. The prince spoke for over half-a-bell on the impact of the collapse of Lord Zivuno’s fortunes and his need for compensation rather than public disgrace. “News of Lord Zivuno’s misfortunes would surely affect public sentiment in Nijan and rile up additional dissent for authority,” the prince argued. “This would make it impossible for us to agree with the proposed solution. Should Lord Zivuno be supported in his time of need, we should be glad to support the request.”

Cliopher’s stared at the Prince of Haion City incredulously, then glanced at the other Jilkano princes. All of them were nodding in agreement. He bit his tongue as his temper flared. Are they honestly trying to bribe us in order to get them to do the right thing?

You should know better, Fitzroy said sardonically. They would never bribe, my dear fanoa; they simply want to bring up a request for due compensation during the middle of a politically contentious decision.

Cliopher looked over at Kiri to see how she would handle the matter, only to find that she was looking at him with wide eyes. While she was used to stamping out blatant attempts at bribery, she obviously hadn’t expected to see it coming from the Council of Princes.  That fact made his temper flare even higher.

Fitzroy, likely feeling his reaction, squeezed Cliopher’s hand approvingly and then let go. Cliopher cleared his throat, stopping the prince mid-sentence. “Discussion of Lord Zivuno’s financial challenges have no place in the Council of Princes,” he said forcefully. “If Lord Zivuno lost his hereditary fortune, he should easily be able to live on the annual stipend. You yourself called it excessively generous, after all.”

Cliopher didn’t smile when the Prince of Haion City winced—possibly regretting his words from the debate on the Stipend but with no ability to argue. Cliopher waited a moment, then added, “Should you wish to avoid Lord Zivuno’s public disgrace, publication of the minutes of this meeting would likely do the opposite. Perhaps you might reconsider retracting your request?”

The Jilkano princes exchanged uneasy glances. Eventually, the Prince of Haion City made a sharp gesture towards Lord Eldo. “I retract my comment. Strike it from the record.”

Cliopher waited while Eldo visibly crossed out something out in his notes. Once Eldo nodded, Cliopher stood. “As to the proposal to make Nijan a separate administrative district, there are a number of reasons why such an option would make sense, reasons that would benefit far more than simply Nijan.” Cliopher went on to explain those benefits in full, making sure to focus on how such a move would enhance trade and ensure more timely deliveries of goods—including luxuries coming in through the port. He’d overheard the Jilkano princes lamenting about how the constant issues in Nijan made it difficult to get the goods to which they were accustomed often enough. While he was more interested in how the people of Nijan would benefit from such a move, he was more than happy to point out the ancillary benefits to the princes themselves—legitimate benefits that did not require any form of a bribe.

When Cliopher was finished, he sat down. He held superlatively still and serene as the matter was called to a vote. It passed easily; while the Prince of Haion City abstained—possibly out of annoyance and spite—the other Jilkano princes all voted in favour.

As Kiri moved on to the next proposal, Fitzroy reached out and took Cliopher’s hand again. Have I said how much I adore you lately, my dear fanoa? Cliopher didn’t need to answer, he was certain Fitzroy could feel the upswell of his delight.

***

The final matter on the meeting’s agenda was the stakeholder consultations that would underpin Cliopher’s plan for the reconstruction of the world government. Kiri outlined the proposed consultations, highlighting how they would take place in both major cities and in a targeted number of smaller communities in every principality in order to attract the diversity of perspectives required.

Prince Rufus snorted. “This must be our new Lord Consort’s idea. Why should we waste our time soliciting opinions from people who don’t even understand how the government works? We’ve already obtained plenty of perspectives from relevant parties."

Cliopher ignored the title Prince Rufus had no doubt meant as an insult. He couldn’t take it as one, not like being called an octopus sucking the government dry. Anyone would be lucky to be Fitzroy’s consort. “Your committee has done an admirable job distilling the aristocratic perspective, Prince Rufus, but the changes would affect everyone. The proposed consultations would fill in the gaps. If people don’t understand the workings of the government, that isn’t their failing, it’s Ours.”

Prince Rufus’s eyebrows shot up at Cliopher’s emphasis on the Council’s responsibilities. “You get too far above yourself,” he said furiously. “No matter what honours his Radiancy grants you, at heart you will always be a nobody.”

A flash of anger burst through Cliopher, although it took him a moment too long to realize the anger wasn’t his. Fitzroy—

But his fanoa was already letting go of his hand. This is too important, my dear Kip. We can’t let it stand. Such opinions can’t be allowed to fester, or they’ll cause us endless problems later.  Trust me?

Always, Cliopher said, trying to swallow back the knot of anxiety working to take up residence in his throat.

“Prince Rufus,” Fitzroy said sharply, turning his head to look directly at the Prince of Amboloyo. “I believe you are under a severe misconception.”

“Glorious One, my apologies,” Prince Rufus said, coming out of his chair and making a full formal obeisance.  

For once, Fitzroy did not immediately give the signal to rise. He simply looked down at the prostrate prince. Much as his fanoa’s face remained entirely serene, the pressure of his distain was as heavy as a thundercloud in Cliopher’s chest. “We appreciate that nothing like the bonding between Kip and I has every happened before. As such, we will graciously assume that you do not realize the grave insult you made.”  

Fitzroy looked around the room, his eyes bright with magic and shining with a ferocity Cliopher felt down to his core. “Cliopher Mdang is my equal. I have made this fact perfectly clear. But should you think my judgement is being clouded by my love—and yes, I do love him, fully and unequivocally as I know you have noticed—” He gave Cliopher a burning look that no one else could see as they were all staring intensely at the floor. “Well then, I suppose We shall have to prove it.”

Fitzroy paused for a long moment, then turned abruptly to look at Cliopher. My dear Kip. You said that in Islander culture, fanoa exchange tokens—efanoa, I believe you called them. As we can’t immediately visit your home in order to do so, I wonder if you might allow me the pleasure of giving you a token from my own culture to show my affection, my love, and my enduring commitment to sharing forever with you?

Cliopher met his fanoa’s eyes. Fitzroy’s magic surged through him—brilliant, dazzling, bright. Caught by his fanoa’s magnificence, his desire, and his utter certainty, Cliopher nodded. Fitzroy broke his serenity, grinning gloriously at Cliopher; then, he tugged off his signet ring and placed it in Cliopher’s hand.

Cliopher froze. “That’s the imperial seal,” he said numbly, forgetting they had an audience. Even as he spoke, his fingers closed around the ring, warm with Fitzroy’s inner-fire.

“It is,” Fitzroy said sincerely. “And while the signet is technically yours as well as mine because of our bond, I know you’d want to argue endlessly about it. This way, you can’t argue.”

“But—” Cliopher stopped, realizing that Fitzroy wasn’t wrong. “You did this on purpose!”

His fanoa smiled, knowing full well that Cliopher wasn’t truly upset. “Come now, my dear Kip,” he said, his tone shifting back to court neutral, although his amusement and affection continued to burble delightedly through Cliopher. “We still need to show Prince Rufus that your position is not simply because I’m besotted. Saya Kalikiri, I believe you have the proclamation about Nijan ready?”

When he pressed the imperial seal to the Nijan proclamation that Kiri held out to him—her hands on the golden tray steady and sure, her eyes warm and trusting and confident—and it worked immediately, Cliopher probably should have been more amazed, or astonished, or astounded—even terrified, given the power in the small, inconspicuous ring now on his finger. Instead, all he could think of was how much he adored the man at his side, his fanoa, his forever.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after That Ceremony—as pretty much everyone in the Palace of Stars had taken to calling it—Cliopher started getting updates on the status of the purification of everything in the Lord of Zunidh's apartments. He didn't think much of it.

Five weeks after That Ceremony, Cliopher received notice that the purifications were complete. Again, he didn't think much about it beyond the fact that the timing also meant that he started to see more of his staff in the Imperial Apartments as they earned Conju's approval that they fully understood the scope of the taboos, how to manage them while carrying out day-to-day tasks for both Cliopher and Fitzroy, and how to help keep Cliopher himself from inadvertently breaking any of them. Cliopher was trying his best, but he'd never been particularly good at etiquette—and some of the taboo requirements were downright ridiculous, so there'd been more than a few close calls.

Rhodin liked to think Cliopher had no idea that the guards were keeping a running tally of every averted disaster—but what Fitzroy knew of course Cliopher did too. And Ludvic reported everything to Fitzroy, particularly now that he knew that Fitzroy was aware that his Commander of the Imperial Guard knew his secret name.

Eight weeks after That Ceremony, Cliopher arrived in his office off the seventh anteroom to find a lovely wall hanging that his sister Vinyë had made for him hanging over the fireplace and a knotted rug that his Aunt Malania had given him situated in front of his desk. That evening—after a Court dinner that would have been excruciatingly boring if not for Fitzroy explaining the whole incident of the marvelous size-shifting ship in his head—they returned to Cliopher's room to find the rest of his books neatly organized on the bookshelves, many of the knickknacks he'd collected over the years thoughtfully arranged around the books, the rest of his clothes hanging in his dressing room, and the decorative Voonran chest holding his bag of efela sitting at the foot of the bed.

Something in him relaxed at so much of his personality on display—no, something in Fitzroy relaxed. “I suppose Conju finally gave up on ever getting rid of me,” Cliopher said lightly.

His fanoa turned from where he was admiring a collection of shells that had been artfully arranged on a square of aquamarine silk in a gap between books. His brilliant eyes reflected a hint of worry, perhaps concern, that Conju had overstepped.

Cliopher gave his fanoa an easy smile. “I'm surprised it took him this long,” he admitted. “I mean, if I moved back now I'd have to find a new bed robe and slippers. It's probably treason to wear yours anywhere but here.”

Fitzroy—who'd stolen Cliopher's ancient blue bed robe a few days after Pali's visit and deemed it far more comfortable than anything he had despite it being far too short, insisting that Cliopher use his even though it was predominantly imperial yellow and far too long—gave him a slightly amused look. “I should have known that you’d choose to stay simply to avoid the need for new clothing.”

Cliopher stepped close to his fanoa, carefully wrapping his arms around him despite the fact they were both still in full court costume. “Well, there's also the fact that you're almost always toasty warm.”

Fitzroy tugged Cliopher even closer. “Well, that's all right then,” he said, resting his head on Cliopher's in a way that always made Cliopher feel—“Besides, if you went back to the Lord of Zunidh's apartments, I'd have to follow. I don't know that Ludvic could handle that. It would be a security nightmare.”

We certainly wouldn't want that, would we? Cliopher knew full-well that his fanoa could feel his smile. I believe the easiest thing would be for both of us to stay right here until it is time for your quest.

Our quest, Fitzroy corrected, pulling back far enough to tilt his forehead down and press it gently against Cliopher's.

Our quest, Cliopher agreed. As long as it's safe for both of us to go.

I don't imagine it will be a problem, my dear Kip. Fitzroy's certainty danced gleefully through Cliopher. “Your Aioru is working very hard to put us both out of a job. We'll be lucky to have much of anything left to do by the time the taboos come down.”

Cliopher tucked his head back under his fanoa's chin, breathing softly against his neck. He was quite certain he could stay there forever given the opportunity. “Good. I knew I picked Aioru for a reason.”

***

Six months after That Ceremony, Cliopher found himself sitting in his office off the seventh anteroom, listening to Lord Eldo summarizing the most important messages and letters he'd received the previous day and dictating his responses because it was far quicker than penning them all himself, much as he deeply missed doing so. At least I haven't taken up pacing, he thought, considering how much he'd otherwise started to imitate his fanoa's working habits.

Perhaps you should try it, my dear, Fitzroy offered. You might enjoy it.

Cliopher shook his head fondly, knowing his fanoa couldn’t see the motion but would easily feel it. I'll stick to my dancing.

Not long after Cliopher had officially become a permanent resident of the Imperial Apartments, he'd started to notice that he almost always had to change out of his first outfit of the day well before lunch. From there, it didn’t take him long to come around to the idea that Conju and Franzel were mostly humouring Cliopher’s desire to dress himself despite the fact that nearly every situation he was faced with over the course of a day required him to dress as Fitzroy’s equal.

Realizing that he could carve a half-hour from his day—every day—for dancing had Cliopher finally relenting to necessity. So he’d forged a new routine; after waking, he danced for half an hour, bathed, and then let Conju—who didn't trust Franzel to take on such a high-risk task on his own yet—help him dress in whatever ridiculously fancy garments he deemed appropriate for the day. At least being able to dance frequently left him in a much better mood to deal with all of the nonsense that his life had become since completing the bond with Fitzroy.

Nonsense? Really? Cliopher knew his fanoa was raising an eyebrow despite being in a completely different room.

You know very well I'm not talking about you, Fitzroy, Cliopher said fondly.

Lord Eldo coughed politely, calling Cliopher back to himself. The young lordling had blossomed incredibly well in recent months; he'd also become quite adept at finding unobtrusive ways to regain the attention of both Cliopher and Fitzroy whenever they got too entangled with each other and forgot whatever they were supposed to be doing. Cliopher smiled at him. “Are there any other letters we need to deal with this morning?”

“There is a legal document addressed to you, my lord—from Gorjo City,” Eldo said. “It’s the kind that can't be opened by anyone but the intended recipient. Since Gaudy didn’t recognize who it was from, we had Ser Rhodin check it for malicious magic. He said it was fine—simply keyed to you.”

Cliopher raised his eyebrows. “Why would someone back home send me one of those? Do you have it with you?”

“Yes, my lord.” Eldo opened his writing case and extracted a thick envelope. “May I?”

At Cliopher's nod, the young secretary brought the packet over and set it down in the tray someone had added to Cliopher's desk months ago for just such a purpose. Once Eldo stepped away from the desk, Cliopher reached for the letter.

The envelope was fine quality card stock, the address on the front written in a clear, bold hand: Cliopher Sayo Mdang. Imperial Bureaucratic Service. Palace of Stars. Solaara.

Cliopher frowned at the simple salutation. As little as the Vangavaye-ve paid attention to the goings on in the rest of the world, he’d assumed that everyone there would still know what had happened between Fitzroy and himself—if only because of the week-long vacation that had accompanied it. And as much as he’d managed to sidestep any and all discussions of specific titles for him to go by—one benefit of being able to simply use the Imperial Seal along with his name, much as it had taken Fitzroy a month to convince him that he could and should do so—he wouldn’t have thought that anyone would be as completely clueless as to the letter suggested.

He chewed on his lower lip contemplatively, then flipped the envelope over. The back side contained nothing but a stamped address: Alvason & Co. Solicitors, Gorjo City, Vangavaye-ve.

Shaking his head at the unfamiliar name, Cliopher brushed a fingertip over the seal. At even that bare touch, the magic on the envelope worked. While he couldn’t sense the magic working, the seal flashed bright blue, then broke open. Belatedly, he considered whether the envelope would have opened at Fitzroy’s touch; given their bond, he had to assume so. The thought made him smile. As much as he’d become a part of Fitzroy, his fanoa had also become a part of him.

With that cheerful thought front of mind, Cliopher reached into the envelope and pulled out the contents—nothing worrisome, simply a few sheets of paper. The topmost page was a letter. Cliopher read it through once, his smile immediately fading. He read it a second time, then a third for good measure.

Dear Sayo Mdang:

We apologize for the lateness of this letter, but there was a legal suit against the Estate of Eugenia Saya Dorn of Gorjo City. This legal suit has now been resolved in favour of the Estate and our Firm, the chosen executors of Saya Dorn's Will, are now proceeding in accordance with the laws governing inheritance and the transfer of assets to appointed heirs in the Vangavaye-ve.

The Succession Laws of the Vangavaye-ve require Wills to be read within seven days of notification of the appointed heirs. To this effect, should you be interested in your entitlement, you are required to present yourself to our office no later than seven days after breaking the seal on this letter.

Should you not present yourself within the required timeframe, you will be assumed to have forfeited your right to any bequeathments associated with Saya Dorn’s Estate; In this event, your entitlements will be granted in their entirety to the State—as defined by law to be the Princess of the Vangavaye-ve.

If you are not familiar with Gorjo City and/or our offices, we have included a list of hotels and a local map with this letter.

We look forward to meeting with you soon.

Sincerely yours,

Alvason & Co.

Cliopher’s heart ached. Saya Dorn had died years ago, centuries ago by Palace reckoning, but he still missed her. She’d been a powerful force of change in his life—no less so than his Buru Tovo. But as much as he felt a swell of grief for Saya Dorn, Cliopher also felt a surging tide of fury at the letter writer. Giving a person in Solaara seven days to reach the Vangavaye-ve for a Will reading was entirely unacceptable. The sea train was the primary method of travel between the two cities—and that journey took no less than six weeks. The entire legal process appeared designed for failure. If anyone else in Solaara had received this letter, they might have immediately written off any chance of complying with the rules and simply accepted the loss.

What's wrong? Fitzroy asked, sensing Cliopher’s growing rage.

Something underhanded and appallingly unethical, Kip told him furiously. I have to go home.

Fitzroy didn’t question the need. He didn’t ask why. He simply sent a surge of support and affection. When do we need to leave?

I’m coming over, Cliopher told him, standing and scooping the letter up in one hand.

Beckoning for Lord Eldo to follow, Cliopher hurried over to Fitzroy’s study. For once, he ignored the guards—his own, those in the seventh anteroom, and those guarding Fitzroy—barely noticing as they opened the doors and got out of the way without stopping for ceremony. He simply marched over to where his fanoa was standing and shoved the letter into his hand. “Princess Oriana's gone too far,” he said, not even trying to moderate his anger. “She's trying to steal people's inheritances.”

Fitzroy scanned the letter quickly, his eyes widening. “Seven days?”

“It's ridiculous. The only way anyone could get there in time would be on a sky ship. How many people have that option?”

Fitzroy dropped the letter on his desk, then reached for Cliopher's hands. “Thankfully, you're one of them,” he said, pulling Cliopher close until he could press their foreheads together in the islander fashion. “It will be fine, my dear fanoa.”

“But what if this has been going on for years? How many people have been fleeced out of their inheritances or even small tokens from their loved ones?” Cliopher couldn't imagine that Saya Dorn had left him anything particularly significant. He hadn't seen her much since he'd first headed to Astandalas—and just the one time after the Fall given her grandson had been staying with her and the man had taken an immediate disliking to him. Not long after that visit, Cliopher had returned to Solaara; by the time he made it home again, Saya Dorn was dead.

“Then you’ll make it right,” Fitzroy told him, utterly certain and sure. “We can bring Aioru and a team of auditors. They'll get to the bottom of this. If reparations need to be made, they will be—and those at fault will be held accountable.”

“But we can't simply leave,” Cliopher said, running through their schedules in his head. “I have a meeting with the Helma Council later this week—and you’re supposed to be greeting the new Ambassador from Alinor. Then there’s the consultations on the next steps in the reformation coming up next w—”

Fitzroy squeezed his hands gently. Cliopher let out a harsh sigh, then raised his head to meet his fanoa’s eyes, letting Fitzroy’s magic surge gently, soothingly, comfortingly between them.

“Can't we?” Fitzroy asked after a few moments. “I'm quite certain I heard Aioru tell you that we should consider going away for a time in advance of our quest so that he can test the appropriate protocols. And we’d be easily reachable through the Lights in the case of an emergency.”

“You'd really drop everything to come home with me?”

“I'd do a lot more than that, my dear—And besides, we owe your family a visit, do we not? This makes an excellent excuse.”

***

Cliopher remembered with fondness the first time he took Fitzroy to the Vangavaye-ve. Being able to sneak off without telling anyone where they were going because it was the Little Session had made travelling so much simpler. Deciding in the middle of a Court session to pack up and head to Gorjo City was not nearly as easy.

First, Fitzroy had to announce the adjournment of Court—which he did at the end of the Court dinner that evening. He didn’t make a major issue about it, simply stated that a matter of some urgency had come up that required Cliopher to travel to the Vangavaye-ve. He didn’t bother mentioning his own plans. Six months after their bonding, the entire Palace of Stars knew full-well that if one of them had to go somewhere that the other would be going too.

Second, they had to decide who would travel to the Vangavaye-ve with them. Cliopher suggested they stick with the same guards who had accompanied them to Lesuia, plus Aioru and an audit team. Alas, he was quickly disabused of this notion once Ludvic, Rhodin, and Conju arrived in Fitzroy’s study to discuss the matter later that evening. “There’s every likelihood that you’re going to be tangling with Princess Oriana, Cliopher—and others besides as there’s no possible way that she came up with such a law herself,” Ludvic said bluntly after reading the letter. “I'm not bringing less than a full squad of guards.”

A full squad meant twenty-four. Cliopher winced. “But where will everyone stay?”

“At the Palace. Where else?” the Commander of the Imperial Guard answered. “There's plenty of space in the guard barracks.”

“But I can't stay at the palace,” Cliopher told him, so strongly his fanoa's arms curled around his waist protectively.

“Where else do you think we—you—could stay, Cliopher?” Ludvic asked, steady and calm and reasonable. “You can’t stay with your family. The Palace has an entire suite set aside that you and his Radiancy can use—and plenty of room for everyone else besides.”

With Fitzroy holding him comfortingly from behind, Cliopher couldn't see his fanoa’s expression, but he could feel his emotions—uncertainty, worry, concern; he tried to think objectively. “We had no issues staying at the Dolphin last time. Couldn’t we do that again?” He reached desperately for a reason beyond how poorly his family would take him staying at the palace. “If Princess Oriana is doing anything more than stealing people's inheritances, then half the people in the palace could be implicated. Staying there would put Tor at more risk than anywhere else. And it would…call into question his impartiality.”

“Our impartiality,” Fitzroy corrected, running one of his long, beautiful fingers over the Imperial signet ring—which Cliopher hadn’t taken off since Fitzroy had given it to him.

Cliopher didn't say anything to that, didn't think anything about that, simply focused on his argument. “Until we know who is involved, it would be much safer not to stay in the palace.”

If they didn’t have the bond between them, Cliopher was quite certain his fanoa would have come down on the side of staying at the palace—because, as Ludvic had rightfully said, it was set up to host the emperor and his entire party. But they were bonded so Fitzroy could feel Cliopher's absolute rejection of the idea. Why is it so important to you where we stay, my dear?

It's…my family, my friends. Every Wide Seas Islander would see it as a rejection of our culture, Cliopher explained silently. Then, because he was among his dearest friends, he added, “The Ke’e Lulai—the Wide Seas Islanders—have never had kings. The princes of the Vangavaye-ve are an Astandalan custom. Tor, of course, could stay at the palace with no issue at all. But I—”

Conju's face was a study in absolute incomprehension. Rhodin's too. Ludvic, however, was from the Azilint—a different set of islands but with his own understanding of culture far different than that deemed to be Astandalan; he let out an audible sigh, but then nodded in acceptance. “The majority of the guards can stay at the palace. On duty pairs can stay with you at the hotel and rotate out every few days. But if you stay at the hotel, we’ll need to bring a lot more in the way of supplies.”

“Give me a few bells and I can ensure we have enough stores for a month,” Conju said bracingly. While he might not appreciate exactly why Cliopher wanted to stay at a hotel rather than at the palace, the Groom of the Lord's Chamber would make certain they had everything they needed—and probably far more besides.

“Excellent. Thank you both,” Fitzroy said, nodding in approval before bumping Cliopher’s head gently with his own. “Would that set your mind at ease, my dear?”

Cliopher nodded. “I am sorry for all the added bother—”

“You’ve given up enough for me,” Fitzroy told him forcefully, his guilt wafting through Cliopher. “I won't ask you to give up more.”

“I'd give up everything for you if I had to,” Cliopher said, turning so he could meet Fitzroy’s eyes. They could both feel the truth of his words.

You won't ever have to, my dear Kip. I'll make sure of that.

***

By late the next evening, a day and a half after Cliopher had first opened the letter, the Imperial Party was ready to depart. Cliopher couldn't help but wince at the final tally of people whose lives he was upending by making them take an unexpected trip halfway around the world: twenty-four guards—led by Ludvic and Rhodin; Conju, Franzel, and Feonie—as Lady Ylette could not leave her wife and children for so long on such short notice; two of the Tower's junior members of the Ouranatha; their four secretaries; and Aioru and a six-person audit team. Including Fitzroy and himself, that meant forty-four people. It seemed ridiculously excessive—and the worst part was knowing that the number would have been even higher if Conju had been able to convince Fitzroy that taking three sky ships wouldn't be excessive.

Standing on the top of the Spire in the middle of the bustling travelling party would have been a lot more unsettling if not for the ring of guards planted firmly around Fitzroy and Cliopher. With the guards also out of accidental touching range, Cliopher could almost enjoy the starry night and the excited atmosphere—if it weren’t for the fact he was the reason they were all standing there only two bells before midnight.

This isn't all about you, my dear Kip. Fitzroy said pointedly, keeping his expression entirely serene. This is about getting to the bottom of a problem before it gets any worse. If Oriana and her Court are acting dishonourably, they need to be dealt with. We should all be grateful to that law firm for making us aware of the situation.

Cliopher bit his tongue before he could bring up the enormous expense of the trip. The truth was, if the problem was much broader than the new inheritance laws, the cost would be well worth it for their being able to resolve the situation.

At that moment, Captain Diogen arrived, flinging himself to the ground in front of Cliopher and Fitzroy. “My lords, my deepest apologies for the delay. The Easter Wonder is ready for you to board. Once we’ve departed, the Glory of Zunidh will take on the remaining passengers and follow.”

To Cliopher's surprise, his fanoa had insisted that he and Cliopher would travel aboard the Eastern Wonder rather than on the Glory of Zunidh—the actual flagship of the sky ship fleet. But then, Captain Diogen’s ship was the one Cliopher always took on his travels home—and the ship they'd taken together on Fitzroy’s first visit to the Vangavaye-ve.

I also trust your Captain Diogen won’t tell anyone that we are sharing the Sun Cabin.

Why would that matter? Kip wondered. Where else would I be but with you?

Fitzroy laughed. Just trust me on this, my dear Kip. Rumors are one thing. Confirmation is another. Before Cliopher could ask what his fanoa was talking about, Fitzroy gestured to Captain Diogen to rise. “We appreciate the complexity of our request, Captain Diogen and your willingness to host us aboard again. We trust your diligence and discretion implicitly.”

“You may trust my crew and I entirely, my lord. We are happy to have you—both of you,” he said, giving an incredibly deep bow.

“Let’s board then. We don’t want to hold up the others,” Fitzroy said, gesturing for the captain to lead the way.

While they’d been talking, the rest of their travel party had moved into somewhat tidier ranks, making space between Fitzroy and Cliopher and the boarding bridge. Pikabe and Ato trailed Captain Diogen, followed at a stately and serene pace by Fitzroy. Cliopher came behind his fanoa, with Ludvic and Rhodin at his back. Cliopher waited for Fitzroy to pass onto the deck of the ship before moving as quickly as he could manage across the small rope bridge himself. He didn’t look down. He didn’t pause. He didn’t think. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his fanoa—

His fanoa—who was waiting on the deck of the Eastern Wonder, hand outstretched to help Cliopher off the bridge. Cliopher smiled at him, forgetting his anxiety almost entirely. He clenched the offered hand tightly before stepping down. Thank you.

Come. You look exhausted, my dear Kip. There will be plenty of time to enjoy the view later. I’d rather tuck you into bed.

Cliopher nodded gratefully, letting Fitzroy wrap a hand around his waist and guide him towards the Sun Cabin.

***

The journey to the Vangavaye-ve took three days.

Cliopher and Fitzroy spent most of those days sitting companionably on the balcony of the Sun Cabin—watching first the land, and then the incredible expanse of the Wide Seas pass below them—although Cliopher did make time to brief Aioru on the letter he’d received and what they might potentially find when they arrived in the Vangavaye-ve. His successor didn’t even bat an eyelash, simply nodded and said that he and his team would be ready to initiate the investigation as soon as Cliopher gave the word.

In the evenings, they took their turns in the spacious shower—even the Sun-on-Earth did not rate a full bath on a sky ship—then took to bed early to read another one of Aya’s books together. Deeming the bed incredibly small—it wasn’t, except compared to their own beds in the Imperial Apartments—Fitzroy squished himself as close to Cliopher as he could get and still allow him to turn the pages. When one or the other of them fell asleep, the other made sure the book made it to the nightstand.

Idyllic was a perfect word for the journey, no signs of a storm or bad weather ever crossing their path. Cliopher didn’t ask if it was natural; if his fanoa was pushing the clouds away, he wasn’t going to argue. Not when he knew there’d be plenty of storms to face upon their arrival.

***

The morning they arrived in the Vangavaye-ve, Cliopher woke to Fitzroy sprawled over him like an octopus. He couldn’t help but smile as his fanoa’s ease lapped through him, brushing away all of his anxieties. He wriggled carefully, managing to shift into a mostly seated position without dislodging Fitzroy enough to wake him. Repositioning a couple of the pillows behind his back, he looked across the cabin to the guards—Rhodin and Elish. “Have we stopped yet?”

Rhodin nodded. “Not long ago,” he reported, voice a mere hint of a whisper in consideration of the still sleeping Sun-on-Earth. “But the sky ship is on your schedule. There’s no need to move quickly unless you want to.”

While Rodin’s face was near expressionless, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. Cliopher flushed, then glanced fondly down at his clinging octopus. He laid a careful hand on the back of Fitzroy’s smooth head, wondering idly how it would feel if his fanoa still had the cloud of hair for which he’d once been known. “I’ll let him sleep then. Thank you, Rhodin.”

His friend saluted more casually than any of the other guards would have, winking even as he did. In six months, Rhodin hadn’t changed his treatment of Cliopher much at all—not when they weren’t in public anyway; when they were, the spymaster maintained perfect decorum. Cliopher couldn’t help but be grateful to have at least one person who refused to take his elevation too seriously. Leaning back into the pillows, Cliopher let his fanoa’s rhythmic breathing sink into him. While he didn’t fall asleep again, he was more than happy to enjoy the calm, knowing it was not going to last.

As much as he had a couple of days to spare before the deadline identified in the letter, Cliopher knew the best plan would be to visit the law firm immediately—before proceeding to the hotel, before the arrival of the flagship let everyone in Gorjo City know they were there, before even telling his family that they’d arrived. The less prepared the law firm was, the more likely that anyone working there would tell the truth.

It was quite possible the lawyers at Alvason & Co. were simply following the letter of the law rather than colluding in the plan to steal people’s inheritances. If that were the case, Cliopher needed to know—no, Aioru needed to know. Even before the bond with Fitzroy, Cliopher would not have been able to lead the investigation given the conflict of interest. While it would be impossible to avoid a conflict entirely given the involvement of Princess Oriana meant the case would have to come before Fitzroy, Aioru would surely make the case ironclad so that there would be no question of her guilt.

Cliopher tried to imagine a scenario where she wasn’t at fault but couldn’t. Princess Oriana had sworn her oaths—he himself had acted as the channel for them while he’d been Hands of the Emperor—so even if someone else had masterminded the new laws, she was responsible.

As potential consequences and ramifications flickered through his thoughts, Fitzroy shifted in his lap. Worrying even before you’ve had coffee, my dear?

Cliopher blushed. I didn’t mean to wake you.

I was already awake. I was simply luxuriating in your company while I had the chance, his fanoa said honestly, appreciatively, fondly. I enjoy hearing your worries given how rarely you speak them out loud.

If possible, Cliopher flushed even further. Fitzroy squeezed him tightly once, then released him to sit up. After straightening his bed robe—Cliopher’s bed robe—he glanced over at the guards. “Would you see if Conju can find coffee for Cliopher? I expect he’ll need it.”

***

Several cups of coffee and a solid breakfast later, Cliopher let Conju help him dress. Fitzroy watched from the edge of the bed, his outward serenity belying his inner turmoil, concern, and anxiety.

“Ludvic and Rhodin are coming with me and Ingo and Auzeverean will be right outside with Aioru and his team,” Cliopher told him, trying to be reassuring. “And it isn’t as if they know who I am. I sincerely doubt they’d have sent a form letter otherwise.”

“Still—”

“I will be fine, my dear Tor. Trust me.”

“I do, but—”

Cliopher held perfectly still as Conju fixed the drape of his mantle; not the fire gem one, but rather the one made of cloud-light layers in navy, orange, and bronze that he’d worn to see his family off in Solaara. It looked incredibly striking over the midnight blue and white of his robes. Court casual, Conju had called the costume—as if anyone outside of the Palace of Stars would consider such finery casual.

After an appreciative nod to his friend, Cliopher crossed the handful of feet to his fanoa, reaching out to gather Fitzroy’s hands in his own. “I am simply presenting myself for the reading of Saya Dorn’s Will as requested,” he said. “There’s truly nothing for you to worry about.”

Fitzroy let out an audible sigh. “I thought I was finished letting you go into danger alone.”

Cliopher rolled his eyes gently but squeezed his fanoa’s hands tight. “Ludvic and Rhodin will be right there with me. Do you honestly think anyone would take on them?”

His fanoa glanced towards the two guards waiting by the door in their full panoply. Their chests oiled to a gleam, leopard pelts brushed glossy, ebony spears with gold-dipped tips in their hands—Ludvic and Rhodin would cause anyone to pause. Cliopher could only hope that their impressiveness would keep most of the eyes off him as they walked across the city.

“Protect him,” Fitzroy said, voice surprisingly quiet, stern, serious, his gaze locked onto the two seniormost members of his Imperial Guard.

“With our lives, my lord,” Ludvic swore, just as serious, Rhodin echoing his words less than a moment later. Both men saluted magnificently.

“That won’t be needed,” Cliopher told them all fiercely. He met his fanoa’s eyes—let Fitzroy’s magic blaze through him, through them, surging with bright recognition and a confidence he knew they both needed—then turned to glare at his two friends.

Ludvic returned his look impassively—steadfast and stolid and steady as he always was while on duty. Rhodin simply winked.

Chapter Text

Cliopher schooled his expression to mildness as he left the Sun Cabin, flanked sedately by Ludvic and Rhodin. After six months of dealing with the ridiculous obeisances that came from his bonding with Fitzroy, he wasn't at all surprised to find most of the ship's crew gathered on deck waiting for his departure—in addition to Aioru, his team of auditors, and Gaudy and Tully. He managed not to sigh as most of the crew moved into the formal prostration—which was an utterly ridiculous maneuver to perform on the deck of a sky ship—simply gave them all the gesture to rise.

At least Aioru, his team, and Cliopher's two secretaries kept to genuflections. It had taken Cliopher several months to win the argument that if obeisances were meant to honour someone, they should consider the person's preferences in the matter. Not that he was certain he did win; he'd overheard Fitzroy telling Aioru and Kiri that anyone in the Private Offices had permission to make lesser shows of obeisance to both of them outside of formal occasions.

After everyone regained their feet, the sky ship captain came forward and offered an additional bow. Cliopher smiled at him. “Captain Diogen, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always. Compliments to you and all your crew.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Captain Diogen said. “We were glad to have you with us and that the weather was so fair for the journey. Is there anything you need before you depart?”

“No, Captain, but thank you. I believe most of the others will be leaving a little later. Certainly, Tor will likely wait to depart until everything is set up for us at the Dolphin.”

“Of course, my lord. I'll have some of our crew help if extra hands are needed to make the move easy.”

“I'm certain that’d be appreciated. Thank you,” Cliopher told him. “Until next time, Captain Diogen.”

The captain bowed again even as Cliopher made his way towards the rope bridge that had been set out between the sky ship and Gorjo City’s Spire. Keeping his face as serene as he could manage—which wasn't nearly as well as Fitzroy could—and carefully not thinking and not looking down, Cliopher hurried across the bridge.

What's wrong? Do you need me? Tor asked, no doubt feeling Cliopher’s suddenly screaming anxiety.

Nothing, Cliopher assured his fanoa as he stepped down onto the Spire docking platform and heaved a sigh of relief. I'm fine. Nothing but momentary jitters.

If you say so, Fitzroy said. Cliopher could tell that his fanoa didn't believe him, but also that he wasn't going to press—at least not for the moment given Cliopher’s mission. I'm here if you need me.

I know. Cliopher focused on the warmth washing through him from Fitzroy's words, knowing that his own ease would help soothe his concerned fanoa.

He glanced back at Ludvic and Rhodin, who were calmly waiting for him to finish talking with Fitzroy, then back towards the sky ship. Aioru was standing patiently in the center of the rope and board bridge, taking in the view down as Cliopher had not. The younger man didn't appear at all upset about having to wait. Cliopher smiled ruefully. “It should be about a fifteen-minute walk from the bottom of the Spire,” he told his friends, pitching his voice so Aioru could hear it as well and pass the news on to those following behind him. “Here's hoping we don't run into twenty of my cousins along the way.”

***

Incredibly, they avoided running into any of Cliopher's cousins, possibly because the location of the law firm was up by the palace, rather than near the docks, the shopping area where his Uncle Lazo's barber shop was, or the Tahivoa lagoon where the Mdang family home was located. They did pass by numerous people that Cliopher knew, but none of them seemed to recognize him; while he was glad not to have the distraction of people wanting to chat—or, more likely, to ask questions—he couldn't help but feel gloomy at the proof of how much he'd changed. Would his family and friends even consider him an Islander anymore?

He tucked the regret away so it wouldn't draw Fitzroy's attention. From what he could hear of his fanoa's thoughts, he was chatting with Conju while being dressed. After that, he'd probably begin making his way towards the Dolphin. Cliopher hoped Zaoul and Eldo had managed to arrange everything that was needed; at least this time, they had a reservation—and the entire top floor of rooms set aside for their use.

Alvason & Co. was situated on a corner lot on one of the fancier streets of Gorjo City—where many of the velio businesses that catered to Princess Oriana and her court were situated, in addition to the Gatehouse Hotel. It was only as Cliopher passed the white-painted facade of the hotel that he realized it would have been a far more convenient location for their party rather than the Dolphin. But he couldn't be upset that he hadn't thought of it; the Dolphin was closer to his family and had a much friendlier atmosphere than the far more ostentatious Gatehouse.

Cliopher stopped across the street from the law firm and turned, waiting for Aioru and the others to catch up. Ingo and Auzeverean brought up the rear, the two guards dressed in the ordinary uniforms of the guard rather than in the full finery that Ludvic and Rhodin were wearing.

“I’ll go ahead with Ludvic and Rhodin,” Cliopher told them quietly. “If you would all stay close by, that would be appreciated. I expect this could take some time, so you’re more than welcome to have a coffee or a pastry while you wait—although do stay within sight so if I send Ludvic or Rhodin out for you, you'll be easy to find.”

“Of course, my lord.” Aioru said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “It looks like we can sit on the patio of the hotel's cafe. We can wait for your summons there.”

“That would work. Thank you,” Cliopher told him before turning to his nephew. “Gaudy, do you have the letter of summons?”

“Right here, my lord.” His nephew agilely opened his writing case and extracted the summons. “Are you certain you don't want Tully or I to come with you?”

As much as Cliopher could tell that his nephew didn't want him to go in alone, he shook his head. “I appreciate the offer Gaudy, but if there's an issue, it'll be better if Ludvic and Rhodin don't need to worry about anyone else but me.” Cliopher held his palm out face up so his nephew could more easily drop the letter onto it. His nephew did so immediately, well-versed by now at Cliopher's preferences for the passing of documents outside of formal settings. “I'll be fine,” he told his nephew, before gesturing a dismissal to Aioru where Gaudy couldn't see it.

“Let us leave you to it then, my lord,” Aioru said, taking the cue perfectly. “The sooner started, the sooner done as you like to say. Gaudy, why don't you show us all to the cafe.”

***

“Don't accept anything from anyone. Don't touch anything,” Ludvic told Cliopher as they crossed the street. “Let Rhodin pass any documents to you. He can check for any curses or other forms of magic. I wouldn't put anything past them at this point.”

“I won't,” Cliopher readily agreed, understanding the caution better now than he would have if he'd received the summons when he'd first become subject to the taboos. It had taken months, but he'd finally—mostly—ingrained the habit of waiting for the guards to assess new situations before throwing himself into them.

“Thank you,” the commander said gratefully, possibly remembering their mad dash excursion into Solaara to visit Pali Avramapul. “And if either of us tell you to do something—don't think, don't hesitate, just do.”

Cliopher nodded in understanding. Given how little anyone gave him orders these days—even his friends avoided it outside of the most casual of conversations—he knew Ludvic was serious. “I'll do my best.”

“That's all we can ask.”

***

To someone who hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time living and working in the Palace of Stars, the inside of Alvason & Co. would probably come across as overwhelmingly impressive—all fine oak and marble, with low-lit mage lights and a receptionist garbed in an impeccable uniform that wouldn't have been out of place in the household of one of Zunidh's princes.

Cliopher, of course, was well familiar with the pretense of richness and wealth, and the desire to be intimidating. As Rhodin gestured him into the foyer of the law firm, he took a quick look around before setting his eyes firmly on the receptionist—a well-dressed young man who glanced up as Kip walked across the entry hall. The young man—no older than Gaudy or Tully, Cliopher guessed—gave him a bored once over, then glanced at Ludvic and Rhodin.

“You’re not allowed to bring weapons in here,” he told them in a supremely perfunctory way that made Cliopher's eyebrows raise. “You'll need to wait outside.”

“Imperial guards in the performance of their duties have the right to go anywhere and question anyone,” Ser Rhodin told him, his voice calm, and flat, and matter-of-fact.

Cliopher didn't quite wince at Rhodin's wording. He supposed the statement was accurate and certainly necessary to say given the circumstances. Guards did have that right. They also had very specific rules and obligations about how they could question people. They did not have free rein entirely—and hadn’t in a long time.

The receptionist didn't seem particularly impressed regardless, his look shifting from completely bored to a cross between annoyance and disbelief. “As if imperial guards would come to the back end of beyond,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Both Rhodin and Ludvic kept entirely emotionless, calm, straight-faced; Cliopher was quite certain his own expression wasn’t at all serene. “When you summon one of the two rulers of Zunidh, you should expect the people who come with them,” the Second-in-Command of the Imperial Guard said.

The young man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted his attention back to Cliopher—pointedly assessing his outfit—from the fine multi-layered mantle in navy and orange and bronze to his jeweled sandals. “Who exactly are you?” he demanded, the vaguest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Cliopher bowed over his hands in the islander way, despite the letter he was holding. “I'm Cliopher Mdang,” he said simply. “Your firm summoned me regarding the estate of Eugenia Saya Dorn.”

Before he could even think about giving the receptionist the letter, Rhodin coughed politely. “Let me, my lord,” he said, holding his free hand out.

Cliopher dropped the letter into his friend's hand. Rhodin hurried forward, set the summons down on the reception desk, then backed off to his previous position.

The young man picked up the letter, glanced over it then back at Cliopher. “This was sent last week. You shouldn't have been able to—” His tone was skeptical, nearly accusing.

Cliopher let his lips curl into a small smile. He didn’t bother glancing at Ludvic and Rhodin; no doubt they’d also caught the receptionist’s slip. “Oh, wasn't I?” he asked mildly. “I'm certain that would have been true for most any islander living in Solaara. But I've had access to a sky ship for many years—even before the last six months.”

The receptionist's eyes went slightly wide. “Who exactly are you?” he asked again.

“I've already told you. I'm Cliopher Mdang,” Cliopher said, gestured at the summons. “Now. Is there someone I can speak to about Saya Dorn's Will?”

The young man let out an annoyed huff and stood up. “I’ll tell Lord Alvason you’re here.”

As the receptionist turned and headed into the bowels of the law firm, Cliopher glanced at Ludvic and Rhodin. “I'm almost positive that Princess Oriana has never put in the paperwork for any new appointments.”

Ludvic gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. “That suggests there is a lot more going on here than a single poor law.”

“It does,” Cliopher agreed, concern twisting his stomach into knots. Surely he should have noticed something was going on in the Vangavaye-ve. How often had he completed Princess Oriana's budgets for her? He knew exactly what she should have in her treasury. If she was giving people new titles, what roles were they filling? And where was the money coming to pay them? He could reasonably see a solicitor being appointed treasurer—several of the princes had done exactly that over the years. But continuing to work as a solicitor while acting as a provincial treasurer would be a potential conflict of interest, particularly if the lawyer’s focus involved managing bequeathments granted back to the state.

He chewed on his lower lip, considering his own situation. What other laws could have been changed that would have seen more funds flowing to Princess Oriana's coffers without him—or anyone in Solaara—being the wiser? Too many, he realized. While the princes were expected to submit copies of any proposed provincial laws for review by the Private Offices and approval by the emperor to ensure they did not fall afoul of Zunidh-wide laws, it was far too possible that Princess Oriana had simply acted on her own recognizance or on that of her advisors. He imagined it had to be the latter given how little interest she’d shown in the actual process of governing over the years.

He'd need to get Aioru to conduct a full audit of Princess Oriana's activities. No doubt that would cause a firestorm in Solaara once the other princes got wind of it, though; the Private Offices did not, typically, audit the activities of the governing princes. Perhaps Fitzroy would have an idea of how best to handle it.

Princess Oriana? Fitzroy asked, no doubt drawn by Cliopher's muddle of emotions.

We may need to audit everything she's done, Cliopher told him, trying to push down the twinges of guilt. We haven't even seen the solicitor yet—one Lord Alvason apparently—and I'm already getting a sense that this is going to be a mess.

He could feel Fitzroy's agreement. Conju and I were going to head to the hotel shortly. Do you need me to come there?

Not yet, Cliopher said, warmed by his fanoa’s offer. I may get more out of them this way.

Be safe, my dear, Fitzroy instructed. I’m right here if you need me.

***

What had to be more than a quarter bell later, a stocky man dressed in breeches, a shirt trimmed with an impressive amount of lace, a green waistcoat, and a heavy brocade jacket embroidered with what Cliopher thought was either peacocks or some kind of demonic fish finally arrived in the foyer, followed at some distance by the young receptionist.

“Sayo Mdang,” the man—the solicitor and previously mentioned Lord Alvason, Cliopher presumed—said. “I understand you came to discuss Eugenia Saya Dorn's Will.”

“I did,” Cliopher said, not bothering to correct his address. “Your summons was quite a surprise, as I am aware Saya Dorn died many years ago now.”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “Saya Dorn's grandson sued the estate for recompense as he was not named in the Will. There is quite a backlog in the courts here, so the matter was not dealt with until two weeks ago. You were sent a notification as soon as we had approval.”

“Notification and a summons that no one without access to a sky ship would have been able to respond to,” Cliopher said dryly.

The man gave a careless shrug. “I don't make the laws,” he said. “And it seems you had no trouble responding.”

The words were almost a challenge, as if he was calling Cliopher's identity into question. How exactly Cliopher could lie about his identity, he wasn’t certain. Well, perhaps he could have opened the letter and sent it through the lights so that one of his cousins could claim the inheritance for him—but falsifying an identity for legal purposes was entirely illegal. “One thing about my new position—” Cliopher said, meeting the man’s eyes intently, “—is access to the sky ship fleet.”

Rhodin chuckled from behind; given how consummately professional Cliopher’s two friends were when acting as his honour guards, there was no possible way the sound wasn't intentional.

The solicitor—who hadn't even bothered to introduce himself—glanced over as if he hadn't noticed that Cliopher wasn't alone. His eyebrows rose dramatically at the sight of the two superlatively clad imperial guards. Unlike the receptionist, he did not question whether Ludvic and Rhodin were what they appeared to be; he let out the tiniest of gasps, then immediately shifted his focus back to Cliopher, confused, uncertain, unsure.

Rhodin ignored him. “You have to know that the Eastern Wonder was appointed your flagship, my lord. It's completely at your beck and call.”

Cliopher turned away from the man for a moment, Rhodin's words too much of a surprise not to say, “What do I need a flagship for? It isn't as if we couldn't have taken the Glory of Zunidh.”

Rhodin's eyes were full of pointed humour that Cliopher doubted the solicitor could read. Apparently his friend had grown tired of the solicitor's disrespect. Cliopher didn't much care about that, more concerned about the endgame than possibly antagonizing the so-called Lord Alvason before he needed to. He raised an eyebrow at his friend, who shrugged innocently. “There might be a time when you're needed in different places urgently,” Rhodin explained easily enough. “Even if it isn't likely, you know full well that it's best to be prepared.”

Any need for him to go off in a different direction from Fitzroy likely involved more disasters than Cliopher wanted to contemplate, but his friend wasn't wrong. It was best to be prepared. He'd need to ask Aioru about it. On the one hand, he was glad his successor was likely reviewing and adding to the Protocols; on the other, it was ridiculous to imagine being the focus of any of them, no matter all that had happened. Now, however, was not the time to show even a hint of uncertainty, so he nodded. “Of course it is,” he said serenely. “Thank you, Ser Rhodin.”

“Of course, my lord,” the guard said, giving him a perfect salute. A quick glance at Ludvic revealed nothing. The commander's eyes were intent, as if he'd used the distraction to assess some level of additional risk. Perhaps he had. Cliopher had never tried to understand exactly how the guards did their jobs, and he wasn't going to start now.

After so long dealing with various members of the court, Cliopher could easily tell that the solicitor was desperately trying to figure out who Cliopher was despite the stonelike expression he was trying to maintain. “Perhaps we should carry on with the reading of Saya Dorn's Will, Domine Alvason?” Cliopher suggested, refusing to give the man a false title.

The man grimaced once, but then offered a small bow. It was nothing more than an acknowledgement—such as a merchant in Solaara might give to a customer—but Cliopher read it as an admission that the solicitor had realized he was in an ocean over his head and wasn’t certain where the surface was. “If you would follow me, we can talk in my office,” he said. “Lord Devis, would you bring us some wine?”

“None for me, thank you,” Cliopher said immediately, as earnestly as he could. “I haven't been away from Solaara since—well, it's safer to avoid refreshments for the moment. My apologies.”

The solicitor's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything. He simply waved the receptionist away. Lord Devis. That was another name Cliopher didn't recognize, although given the boy's likely age, he expected a title had been conferred on one of his parents—so there was nothing to say it wasn't correct for the moment. Certainly, the boy had the attitude of a young aristocrat of the court despite being in the Vangavaye-ve. Not that most of the young lordlings in the palace worked. Lord Eldo being one brilliant exception.

The solicitor led them down a well-appointed hallway with softly glowing mage lights and quite boring but no doubt incredibly expensive art in the Jilkanese style, then gestured them through an open doorway.

“After you, Domine Alvason,” Ludvic directed. After a moment, the solicitor obeyed; Cliopher couldn't see his reaction to the direction, but expected the man was somewhat disgruntled given the way his back tightened noticeably.

Cliopher waited in the hallway while Rhodin followed the solicitor into the office. With no magic at all of his own, Cliopher had no idea how his friend was assessing potential threats. Whatever he did didn't take long, however; only a few moments later, Rhodin signaled the all clear. A quick glance at Ludvic earned Cliopher a nod and a go ahead wave.

Entering the office, Cliopher had to hold back a visceral shudder. The room was a monstrosity of fancy marble—tiles of it filled the walls, the floor, and the ceiling—completely at odds with the décor of the hallway they’d just passed through. A massive desk sat in the centre of the room, its top and legs filled with so much ornate carving as to be distracting, while a large painting of what Cliopher thought was supposed to be the Palace of Stars from when it was in Astandalas the Golden filled two-thirds of the wall behind it. Studying the painting made Cliopher grimace; it had to have been painted by someone who'd never seen either the palace or the golden city.

No doubt the solicitor thought his decorating inspired, impressive, intimidating—certainly it had probably been expensive. Cliopher tried to imagine what some of the princes might have thought of the room; as much as the Prince of Amboloyo dissented with him on many topics—although less so now in the wake of his bonding with Fitzroy—he'd probably agree that the office was not in any kind of good taste.

Fitzroy himself could probably find a way to use the horror of the room in a song. Not that Cliopher's fanoa had even thought about creating poetry or music in the time they'd been bonded. Perhaps one day he'd feel free enough to do so—Cliopher hoped. He hadn't asked; he tried not to even think about it. As much as Fitzroy was glad to have his name back, at least in their silent conversations, they'd never discussed the emotional turmoil churning at the heart of him. Who Fitzroy was wasn't a question his fanoa let himself think about. Nor was it a question Cliopher could think about, not if he didn't want to attract Fitzroy's attention.

“Please have a seat,” the solicitor said, gesturing Cliopher towards one of the hard-backed visitor's chairs opposite the larger, cushioned one situated under the poorly done painting of the palace.

At Rhodin's nod, Cliopher sat, adjusted the drape of his robes and his mantle so they wouldn't wrinkle—one of the necessary actions he'd grown accustomed to undertaking so that he could avoid hearing Conju sighing in pain in the evening when it came time to undress—and looked over the solicitor's desk. It was entirely empty, except for a folder, the open letter of summons, and a pen. A quick glance showed Rhodin standing two steps behind him, while Ludvic had taken a position to the left of the door to the hallway.

“First, we need to verify your identity,” the solicitor said, pulling out a document and sliding it across the desk along with the pen.

Before Cliopher could move, Rhodin stepped forward and grabbed both the paper and the pen. He examined the paper for a moment, before placing it directly in front of Cliopher, then uncapped the scribal pen, glanced at it from all angles, then set both pen and cap down next to the paper. If there was any magic to what he was doing, Cliopher couldn't tell.

Cliopher bent his head to review the document before him. It was nothing out of the ordinary—a straightforward attestation that he was who he said he was. He picked up the scribal pen and signed his name. Then, without thinking, he pressed the imperial seal underneath as he'd been doing for months. The magic in the ring worked immediately, blazing onto the page in brilliant gold. Cliopher stared ruefully at the sparkling, impossible to mistake imperial seal, thinking of how glad Fitzroy would be to learn that he'd used the ring so reflexively. He hadn't planned to make an issue of his identity, but apparently he was going to anyway. He glanced at Rhodin. His friend didn’t quite smirk, but there was definite humour in his eyes.

“Let me,” Rhodin said, taking the document. With a flourish, he handed the signed form to the solicitor.

The lawyer took one look at the shimmering imperial seal and dropped the attestation on the floor. “What on Zunidh—” he exclaimed. “How is that even possible? You are not the emperor.”

Cliopher raised one single eyebrow. “Ever since Tor and I were bound together six months ago, the magic has seen us as one person.”

The solicitor stared at Cliopher, shocked, astounded, horrified. Cliopher wasn't certain what to say. The man was likely guilty of any number of crimes, but it was quite obvious he— “You weren’t aware of this?” he asked slowly. “Tor released a proclamation about it. There was a week of holiday across Zunidh afterwards. What did you think the holiday was for?”

The man stared at him blankly. “What holiday?”

Cliopher blinked, opened his mouth in surprise, then shut it. Finally, he looked over at Ludvic. “Is it safe enough for one of you to fetch Aioru?”

Ludvic exchanged glances with Rhodin, then nodded. “Of course, my lord. Ser Rhodin, if you would?”

“Ask Aioru to bring a copy of the bonding proclamation,” Cliopher instructed. “Gaudy should have a copy of it.”

Rhodin saluted, gave the solicitor a long look filled with threat, then left.

“Domine Alvason,” Cliopher said once Rhodin had slipped out of the office. “I expect from your reaction to my position, that you are becoming aware of the perils of your current situation.”

The solicitor didn’t quite shudder. “I've done nothing wrong!”

Cliopher waved his hand in the most dismissive manner he could think of. “I'm certain you're in no way benefitting from inheritance rules that make it nearly impossible for anyone to actually claim their inheritances?” He smiled brightly at the solicitor. “Excellent. I’m certain Chancellor Aioru's team will be glad to find you and your firm are entirely without fault when they investigate the malfeasances related to inheritance law in the Vangavaye-ve. They'll be starting with a review of all your records since Eugenia Saya Dorn's death.”

The solicitor licked his lips rather nervously. Cliopher gave him a few moments, then added, “I'm not certain if you're aware, Domine Alvason, but ever since the Littleridge Treaty was signed, all new titles must be reviewed and approved by the emperor.” The man's eyes widened dramatically.

“You could also approve them, my lord,” Ludvic said in an immeasurably dry tone from the door.

Cliopher glanced back at his friend. “I suppose I could. I admit it isn't something I've ever thought about.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the solicitor bent down and picked up the attestation. He stared at the paper or, more likely, at the imperial seal. Cliopher remained quiet, giving him space, time, opportunity.

After a few moments, the man's shoulders slumped. “Princess Oriana's treasurer approached me some time ago,” he admitted quietly. “She said that the princess was quite poor with her money and that she could easily bankrupt the province if someone didn't help her raise more funds. She asked me to join a council to rectify the fact.”

“Oh?” Cliopher kept his tone emotionless, calm, serene.

Alvason nodded. “You'll find a lot of local laws have been changed—nothing with implications outside the Vangavaye-ve. The idea was to avoid the eye of Solaara.” No doubt the solicitor was cursing the fact that they’d ever sent Cliopher a letter. Although if they’d never seen the proclamation about his bonding with Fitzroy, the oversight made a lot more sense. Few people had ever paid attention to what he did as the Secretary in Chief of the Private Offices of the Lords of State.

At that moment, someone knocked firmly on the door. Ludvic poked his head out into the hallway. “It's the Chancellor and your secretaries, my lord.”

At Cliopher’s gesture of acceptance, Ludvic stepped back to allow Aioru, Tully, and Gaudy to enter; as was their usual habit, all three genuflected. Cliopher ignored the solicitor’s wide eyes—which he caught from the corner of his own. “The proclamation?”

'Here, my lord,” Aioru said, waving a document already in his hand. Cliopher signaled for him to provide it to the solicitor—which Aioru did with alacrity.

The solicitor took the proclamation with two fingers as if it was contaminated, then read it slowly. By the time he set it down on the desk, his expression was particularly grim. “I’ve never seen this,” he admitted. He swallowed audibly, then added, “My lord.”

“I rather thought not,” Cliopher said. He stared at the man, recognizing his complete unmooring from anything he'd expected from his participation in whatever schemes existed. He chewed on the inside of his lip, considering. “If you are entirely forthcoming about your involvement with this council of Princess Oriana's—and can furnish every single record of every Will and other document that may have resulted in money or goods not getting to the people who were entitled to it, your assistance will be considered during your trial. It will not, I must warn you, ameliorate it. Simply be considered when any punishments are decided.”

The man's entire body drooped, possibly in relief. As a solicitor, Alvason likely knew exactly what punishments typically came with several of the crimes he'd no doubt contributed to. Should the entire group of conspirators be charged with high treason— “Ludvic, please arrange for guards to escort Domine Alvason while he shares any insights he might have with Aioru and his team.” After Ludvic saluted, Cliopher turned to the person who'd replaced him as head of the Imperial Bureaucratic Service. “Chancellor Aioru, you have control of the investigation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Aioru said, bowing in acceptance. “Sayo Vawen, please go collect the rest of the team.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaudy said, then genuflected to Cliopher and left to fulfill the request.

Aioru glanced at the solicitor, then back at Cliopher. “My lord, did you resolve the matter of the Will that summoned you here?”

“Oh,” Cliopher said. “No. Shouldn't it be reviewed as part of the investigation?”

“No,” Aioru said, then shook his head. “Pardon me, my lord. Yes, of course it should be reviewed, but there is no reason for you not to read the Will. The documents cannot be tampered with. As you adhered to even the current, possibly unlawful, rules governing notification, you should have no issues claiming whatever inheritance you have been given.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Cliopher said. He glanced across the desk to the solicitor. “Domine Alvason?”

The man didn't prevaricate in the slightest—simply opened the folder on the desk and took out a sheaf of papers. As he pulled a second pen out of a drawer, he said, “We will need witnesses, my lord.”

Cliopher glanced around the office. “Commander Omo, Ser Rhodin?”

Both men saluted. Rhodin stepped forward from where he'd taken up his usual position on the door after returning with Aioru. He stopped just shy of the desk, then watched as the solicitor flipped through the pile of documents and signed several different pages. When the man was done, Rhodin accepted the stack, held it for a moment, then placed it down in front of Cliopher.

Cliopher glanced through the paperwork, then settled in to read it. The first page was simply a preamble, followed by the desires of Saya Dorn with respect to her remains. “Were her wishes pertaining to her remains carried out?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” the lawyer answered quickly. The man was certainly getting better at using the title. Whether that meant he was coming to terms with his situation or regrouping with some other plan to win free, Cliopher didn't know. That would be Aioru's job to figure out. He made a mental note to have Ludvic assign a few more guards to the team. Two would not be enough if they had to make numerous arrests.

He continued to read. When he reached the third page, however, he stopped, his eyes frozen on a single paragraph.

I leave my house to Cliopher Mdang, who currently lives in Solaara and works as a secretary in the Palace of Stars. I know he will appreciate it, care for it, and—when it comes time for him to retire—need it. He first found his heart in this house. And so, it should only be right for both him and his heart to find freedom here after their years of service.

Cliopher forgot entirely where he was as a tide of unexpected grief swamped him. Tears sprang to his eyes; his heart ached.

What's wrong? Fitzroy asked, immediately picking up on his sorrow. Where are you? Are you still at the law firm?

I'm fine, Cliopher sent, taking a long, deep breath, trying to calm his emotions so as not to upset his fanoa further. I was reading Saya Dorn's Will. She left me…her house.

Her house? Cliopher could tell his fanoa was curious, but also concerned.

Somehow she knew, Cliopher told him. She knew what would happen between us. I'll—I'll show you her Will later. The gift is as much for you as it is for me.

Fitzroy's emotions shifted from concern to surprise and softness. So the meeting wasn't as bad as Ludvic thought it might be?

Cliopher shook his head, not that his fanoa could see it. Oh no, it was far worse, he said regretfully, remorsefully, apologetically. The lawyer was completely taken aback by who I was. Apparently, Princess Oriana didn't distribute the proclamations related to our bonding.

She didn't—You mean no one here knows about us? Fitzroy's distress was sharp and dismayed and tinged with upset.

That isn't the worst of it, Cliopher told him, his own distress twining closely with his fanoa's. There wasn't a holiday either. What do you suppose happened to all of the funding meant to ensure businesses weren't impacted?

Ah. Of course you'd worry most about that. Fitzroy said, tone somewhat resigned. So, my dear Kip, what do we need to do about it?

I'm not sure what we can do right at this moment. Cliopher frowned. The solicitor has been…convinced to help. He's no doubt well aware of what it would mean to be found guilty of aiding and abetting treason.

 I'm certain he is, Fitzroy agreed with no little hint of irony.

 Aioru needs time to properly investigate and to identify the other conspirators. The only thing I think we can legitimately do right now is stop Princess Oriana from leaving—

I'll send word to stand down her sky ship.

Thank you, my dear, Cliopher said. I'll—sign the rest of the paperwork and then…come to the hotel.

Cliopher wanted to visit Saya Dorn's house immediately, but he knew that would be entirely selfish. Ludvic and Rhodin would be better utilized helping with the investigations, not following him around Gorjo City. If he and Fitzroy were together somewhere deemed safe, the commander and his second would be more inclined to go about their real work.

I’ll see you soon, Fitzroy said, sharing an effusive wave of certainty, expectation, and anticipation.

Cliopher took another long breath, then looked up to find that he was—alone. Or, well, alone except for Ludvic, Rhodin, and Gaudy. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “I was—”

“The Chancellor suggested they move to a different room to begin the investigation,” Ludvic explained. “Ingo and Auzeverean are with him.”

“Ah, good,” Cliopher said. “I will need to thank him later. Saya Dorn has been gone a long time. I wasn’t expecting—”

“Grief comes when it wills,” Ludvic said ever so gently. “You can trust Chancellor Aioru with everything here. For now, you only need to sign each copy of the Will. We’ll witness it. Then we can go. I expect He is worried about you.”

“Less so now, I think. We talked a fair bit,” Cliopher admitted. “I told him I was fine. Although I'm certain he'll want to discuss what to do about Princess Oriana. That's going to be—”

Ludvic and Rhodin exchanged glances that Cliopher couldn't read. After a moment, Ludvic waved his hand at the papers still sitting in front of Cliopher. “Why don't you focus on signing those,” the commander suggested. “There will be time enough to worry about everything else later.”

***

They weren’t even halfway to the Dolphin when Cliopher caught sight of Fitzroy purposely walking down the street towards him, Conju at his side—well out of touching distance—and Pikabe and Ato at his back. Warmth rushed through Cliopher at the sight of his fanoa. He smiled brilliantly, meeting his beloved’s eyes as the distance between them quickly shortened. His fanoa’s magic surged between them, bubbling effervescently with Fitzroy’s joy at being able to surprise him.

Amazingly, no one in the street seemed to recognize the emperor in their midst, despite the fact Fitzroy was not trying to hide who he was at all. In Solaara, no one would have missed the man wearing white and gold and imperial yellow. But they were not in Solaara; they were in the Gorjo City. And apparently no one here besides Cliopher’s family was even aware that the emperor had forged a wild magic bond with his Lord Chancellor—who also happened to be Kip Mdang of Tahivoa. So Fitzroy cemented his own non-disguise by sweeping Cliopher into a fierce hug the moment he came into reach.

Cliopher found he didn’t care about anyone else in that moment; he simply melted into Fitzroy's embrace. You came.

Of course, I did, Fitzroy told him. You needed me.

I was— Cliopher found he couldn’t lie. He smiled ruefully into Fitzroy’s shoulder. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until right now.

Fitzroy kissed the top of his head gently. Of course you didn’t, my dear. You were fine.

I was, Cliopher told him honestly. But now I’m better than fine.

That was my nefarious plan, Fitzroy said, pulling back enough to wink. “Now, where exactly is this house you want to visit?”

Chapter Text

In an effort to avoid any of his multitude of cousins, Cliopher led Fitzroy—and Conju, and Ludvic, and Rhodin—on a circuitous journey out of the heart of Gorjo City, along one of the lesser frequented canals, and towards the small neighbourhood that surrounded Zaviya Square. The streets were more worn than he remembered—and nearly silent, as if the world had mostly passed the neighbourhood by. Then, perhaps it had without the eccentric elderly wizard to keep the neighbourhood vibrant.

How long had it been since Saya Dorn’s death? Fewer years than had passed in the Palace of Stars for certain, but at least a decade, perhaps even two. Cliopher sighed regretfully, wishing he’d been able to see her a last time. She’d done so much for him when he’d been young and foolish and utterly certain of his course. And now, this gift. This wonderous, astonishing, incredible gift. He’d never imagined—Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes as they made their way under the large tree that hadn’t aged at all and into the leafy square beyond. The central pool was somewhat overgrown with cheerful waterlilies. And beyond the pool, there it was—Saya Dorn’s house.

His house now. And Fitzroy’s.

Our house? His fanoa’s question was a mere whisper in Cliopher’s thoughts, his emotions a deep rumble of disbelief and a quiet, shy, desperate yearning.

Our house, Cliopher agreed, clutching Fitzroy’s hand tightly, eyes moving to survey everything he could see. The house loomed three stories high, with large windows and charming private balconies facing the square. The other side of the house, he knew, had a much larger terrace, but he’d always loved the charming way that the little balconies on the front of Saya Dorn’s house had been purposely designed so as not to be perfectly aligned.

After so long without an inhabitant, the rambling old house was much shabbier than he remembered. The paint was peeling badly, the windows were crusted with dirt, and a number of the wooden pegs that made up the railings of the balconies were missing. The aged window boxes that remained were almost all crooked and entirely empty of life—barren and dry, a far cry from the beautifully kept window boxes decorating the neighbouring house.

The house was going to take an immense amount of work to make comfortable, Cliopher realized, beginning to catalogue the work in his head—and they hadn’t even yet stepped inside. But it was solid, and it was sturdy, and—amazingly—it was theirs. Blinking tears back, he tugged Fitzroy down the overgrown path to the large wooden door. Only then did he stop and turn to his fanoa, entirely chagrined. “I didn’t think to ask about a key.”

Fitzroy laughed, bumping Cliopher’s shoulder companionably. “I suspect others were not quite so absentminded, my dear,” he said, casting an eye towards Ludvic and Rhodin.

Rhodin saluted crisply. “I have the key right here, my lord,” the spymaster said, holding up a large brass key. “May I?”

Cliopher blinked, then held his free hand out, palm up, carefully still so that Rhodin could drop the key into it. “Thank you,” he said, giving his friend a warm, grateful, appreciative smile before turning back to the door. He let go of Fitzroy’s hand so he could jimmy the key into the ancient lock. It took a few moments, but the lock finally clicked.

Taking an anxious breath, he pushed the door open with his shoulder; he would have walked right in as well, but Fitzroy grabbed his arm before he could even step over the threshold. “Please let Ludvic and Rhodin go first,” his fanoa begged softly, his fear prickling between them like sparks on the surface of Cliopher’s skin. “It might be your house, but I don’t trust that there aren’t any traps.”

“Our house,” Cliopher corrected absently. “And sorry, of course—” He stepped back to Fitzroy’s side, giving the guards space to lead the way.

Ludvic and Rhodin didn’t salute him—they knew he didn’t care for it—but they both nodded firmly as the moved to enter the house. Lights brightened down the hallway as the two guards moved into the house and towards where Cliopher knew was the kitchen. “At least the lights are working,” he said to Fitzroy.

His fanoa nodded absently, his eyes bright and near-glowing. “Yes, but the magic certainly could use some tidying. The house has been alone a very long time.”

Cliopher remained silent as Fitzroy continued whatever he was doing magically with the house. He hoped it was enough to keep it from falling down on their heads. “As if I would let that happen,” Fitzroy admonished. “Not that you need to worry. The house may need some work, but it’s quite solid.”

“Ah good,” Cliopher said. After a moment, he added belatedly, “Thank you for checking, my dear.”

Fitzroy beamed at him, just as Rhodin arrived back in the entryway. The spymaster appeared more intrigued than Cliopher had seen him in ages—and they’d just spent half a morning uncovering the plot at the law firm. That was saying something. “The house is empty and there are no traps, my lords,” he reported. “My apologies it took so long. We weren’t certain how to get upstairs. Isn’t there an internal stairway, Cliopher?”

“You’d think there would be,” Cliopher agreed. “But I don’t recall ever seeing one. Just the stairs off the kitchen. Is the awning still there?”

“Depends on your definition of there.” Rhodin’s lips twisted into the hint of a smile. “It will need replacing if you want it to actually protect anyone from the sun or the rain.”

“I’ll add it to the list.” Turning to Fitzroy, he grinned. “Ready to see our house?”

Fitzroy nodded, his eyes bright—not with magic this time—and his emotions trembling with curiosity, with excitement, with anticipation. Oh, Kip—I’ve never had a—

Cliopher squeezed his fanoa’s hand supportively, sensing the heaviness trying to squash Fitzroy’s joy. His beloved had never had a home beyond the desolate tower where he’d been exiled, never had a place that was his beyond the Palace of Stars—which had been, and still was, his prison—never had a place where he could feel completely safe.

I have you my dear Kip, Fitzroy told him earnestly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Cliopher’s head. What more do I need?

Cliopher refused to blush. “This house for starters,” he said, tugging Fitzroy across the threshold.

***

The interior of the house was in even more need of repair than the outside. The entry hall was narrower than it should have been, the space taken up by floor-to-ceiling cupboards that clashed entirely with the molding around the doors and the floors and the ceiling. All of the visible walls were noticeably scuffed, their faded paint more gray than the blue Cliopher remembered with fondness.

“The entrance would be much brighter without the cupboards,” he said to Fitzroy, even as his eyes assessed everything from the ceiling lamp holding a single mage light—still working—to the uneven floorboards, which were an obvious safety hazard. “And I suspect they’d need to be removed anyway to fix that crack.” He frowned at the line cutting its way cross the floor, entirely uncertain as to its cause. He’d need to hire an inspector to assess how deep the crack went and what would be needed to fix it.

“How old is it?” his fanoa asked, peering curiously into a half-open cupboard. “There’s nothing in here.”

That was another thing to add to his list—finding out what had happened to Saya Dorn’s possessions. Perhaps they’d gone to her son. But if Alvason had taken anything— “I don't think its quite a century yet,” he answered, not entirely confident given how topsy-turvy time had been in the wake of the Fall. “It wasn't that old when Saya Dorn bought it when she came back from Astandalas. The architect who designed it was quite famous there at the time. Onara, I believe her name was.”

“There will be records somewhere,” Fitzroy told him. “If not here, then wherever the property records are kept.”

Cliopher didn’t have to hum his agreement, but did so anyway. “The Gorjo City Planning Commission will have the building records, I’m certain. It’s always been very diligent about building permits given how Gorjo City was designed. Perhaps I can go later this afterno—” Behind them, Conju let out a muffled noise of distress. Cliopher grimaced, recognizing the signal for what it was: a reminder that he wasn’t supposed to do such things for himself anymore—at least not when they weren’t meant to draw out information on unlawful activity. “—or, I can send one of our secretaries,” he said, offering his friend an apologetic look. “It’s nothing that won’t wait a few days.”

“What an excellent idea, Cliopher,” Conju said, only the merest hint of sarcasm seeping through words. “And besides, if you want to hold off your mother, wandering around Gorjo City causing upheavals is not the way to do it.”

Cliopher blushed, knowing his friend wasn’t wrong. No matter how well his family’s visit to Solaara had gone, someone was bound to be offended by the fact he hadn’t visited immediately upon arrival rather than after tackling Alvason & Co. But they’d needed to catch the law firm off guard before the Glory of Zunidh arrived and the entire city learned that the emperor was in town—and they had—so he’d simply have to live with the eventual familial grumbling. It was worth it for the knowledge he’d been able to curry out and for the fact Aioru and his team had gotten in before any of the records could be destroyed.

“There will be time enough to worry about your family and everything else later,” Fitzroy told him, interrupting Cliopher’s thoughts with a soft mental nudge, before tucking an arm around his back. “We’re supposed to be looking around your house, remember?”

“Our house,” Cliopher corrected again, grasping the hand his fanoa had settled on his hip and bringing it forward to rest on his stomach. He rubbed his pinkie gently over Fitzroy’s, enjoying the feel of his fanoa’s smile bubbling through him.

After a moment, and another distinct sound from Conju, Cliopher patted Fitzroy’s hand once, then pulled away regretfully. He gestured down the hallway opposite the front door. “Come on, then. This way leads to the kitchen.”

***

The distance between the front door and the kitchen seemed a lot shorter than it had when Cliopher was young, even with stopping to peek into each of the storage rooms that lined the hallway. Each room was entirely empty, picked clean except for the layers of dust and dirt and detritus that came with years—possibly decades—of neglect. Whatever magic Saya Dorn had used to keep the house intact and clean, it had obviously failed.

I can fix the magic, if you’ll let me, his fanoa offered hesitantly. I don’t have the knowledge or precision to fix what’s actually broken—Fitzroy’s emotions churned with a mix of awkwardness and guilt and embarrassment—but I can make sure what works keeps working and ensure the protections on the house are solid.

The house is a wee bit smaller than Zunidh, my dear Fitzroy, Cliopher told him honestly, candidly, affectionately. There’s no reason you should be able to fix a crack in its foundation as easily as you can probably melt tectonic plates together. Thankfully, that’s what contractors are for. At Fitzroy’s harrumph, Cliopher added, “If you’d enjoy fixing the magic of our house, then it’s all yours.”

The surge of joy and delight and wonder made Cliopher blush. He decidedly didn’t look back at Conju and Rhodin. Rhodin’s smirking at us, Fitzroy told him fondly, entirely delighted by the fact his spymaster was willing to smirk in his presence. Conju is doing his level best to look like he isn’t wishing he’d stayed at the hotel.

Cliopher held back his chuckle—knowing that Fitzroy could hear it anyways—and stepped through to the kitchen. Despite immediately adding another dozen things to his mental list of tasks needed to restore the house properly, including re-sanding and varnishing the table and its matching bench and chairs, fixing a cupboard door that was hanging askew, patching a divot in a wall he wasn’t going to admit that he’d created when moving one of the table’s chairs many years ago—he ignored his fanoa’s amused, you just did—and possibly laying new floor tile, Cliopher smiled. He’d spent so much time in Saya Dorn’s kitchen studying for the Imperial Bureaucratic Service examinations that it felt like—

Coming home?

Cliopher nodded sheepishly at Fitzroy. Do you know, she never once joked about the fact I failed the Service exams four times before I passed? All she ever said was to keep trying and that I’d pass when the time was right.

And you did, Fitzroy told him, wrapping his arms around Cliopher from behind and settling his head on Cliopher’s shoulder. I am certain that she’d be very proud of all that you’ve done.

Cliopher couldn’t quite disagree, particularly not when it seemed Saya Dorn had understood more than he would have ever thought possible, including how his future would be entwined with the emperor’s.

“It’s a lovely kitchen, Cliopher,” Rhodin said loudly. Cliopher glanced up to see his friend poking about the opposite end of the room. “The range is impressive—your Saya Dorn must have ordered it from Astandalas.”

Cliopher nodded. “She very well might have,” he agreed. “Or she could have brought it with her. I don’t really know. She’d been living here for a long time before I started visiting.”

He nudged out of his fanoa’s embrace so he could turn and look at his beautiful eyes instead, enjoying the frisson of Fitzroy’s magic resonating through him, through them. “Saya Dorn used to feed me tea and biscuits here at the table and tell me all about her time in Astandalas the Golden,” he said, shifting his glance from Fitzroy to Rhodin, to Conju—who was peering into the pantry. “She attended the Imperial College of Magic for a few years.”

His fanoa’s eyes were soft and gentle and warm. “And you loved that, didn’t you?”

Cliopher nodded. “Many people here thought she was mad as a hatter,” he admitted. “Some of her stories were quite ridiculous—but she was always glad to share them. And I was entirely glad to listen. Particularly after I decided that I had to go—”

Because our fates were intertwined.

“Yes,” Cliopher said, answering his fanoa’s unspoken thought. “Now, if I recall correctly, there’s two suites on this level—”

“And a training room,” Ludvic offered, coming out of a doorway into the kitchen. “Apologies, my lord, Cliopher. I’ve been doing a deep sweep of the house to ensure it is safe. It’s all very solid. There’s nothing that is particularly hazardous—although the stairs to the third floor could use sanding and better lighting.”

“Thank you for your diligence, Ludvic,” Fitzroy said, nodding appreciatively. “A training room, you say?” He stepped towards the room Ludvic had just exited, slowly enough to give the commander plenty of time to step across the kitchen and well away from his path.

“I believe it used to be a dance studio,” Cliopher offered, letting his fanoa investigate for himself. “—before Saya Dorn’s time. I don’t think she used it for much.”

“The pantry is fantastic,” Rhodin called from somewhere out of sight. “Conju, come take a look.”

Cliopher smiled softly, happy to lean against the kitchen table as his fanoa and friends investigated the rooms off the kitchen. While he could only feel Fitzroy’s enthusiasm firsthand, he could tell Rhodin and Conju were enjoying their explorations from their exuberant exclamations over all the various nooks and crannies in the pantry. Watching and listening to them reminded him of his own explorations in his youth. In the Mdang house, he’d never been allowed to explore with such reckless abandon, but Saya Dorn had been more than willing to let him explore. And it wasn’t as if he had to worry about his fanoa and friends breaking anything.

After a while, Ludvic came to stand at his side—or as close to his side as it was possible to get while remaining out of arm’s reach. “What do you think?” Cliopher asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“It’s a lovely old house,” Ludvic answered. “Very spacious. Once it’s been fixed up, it will be a wonderful place for you and Him to retire to.”

Cliopher glanced over at his friend, realizing that he’d never asked, never thought to ask— “What will you do once Tor retires?” He could have said Fitzroy—Ludvic knew who Tor really was after all and they were in the privacy of Saya Dorn’s house—but he wasn’t certain whether Conju and Rhodin knew. He wanted to ask, but if they didn’t know, it wasn’t his secret to share. Perhaps one day—

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Ludvic answered, his voice steady as always, although there were dark shadows in his eyes.

Thinking of Woodlark, Cliopher realized—the home his friend could never go back to because Fitzroy had razed it to bare rock. He swallowed—considering, wanting, wishing. “Do you suppose you might want to settle here in the Vangavaye-ve with me—with Tor?”

Ludvic's eyes went the slightest bit wide. “You mean here?”

“Yes—if you want. The house is more than large enough,” Cliopher told him. “There are two suites down here and three more upstairs. All of these old houses were built for extended families. There's plenty of room for you and for Conju and for Rhodin—”

“Room for what?” Conju asked, poking his head out of one of the suites.

Cliopher bit his lip anxiously. “Room for you to live here too—if you want to, that is—when we all retire.”

Conju came fully into the kitchen, Rhodin right behind him. The spymaster had obviously heard Cliopher's words given how speculatively he was looking around the kitchen—as if he was trying to see himself there.

“But it’s your house, Cliopher—yours and his Radiancy’s,” Conju said, tone tinged with disbelief. “You can’t really want—"

“Of course we do,” Cliopher answered. “Right Tor?” he called, knowing full well that Fitzroy was hesitating just beyond the door of the dance studio.

His fanoa stepped into the kitchen, his face calm if not quite serene. For once, he didn’t immediately look at Cliopher; instead, his blazing eyes first went to Conju, then to Rhodin, then to Ludvic. His tension was obvious—at least to Cliopher whose own back was knotting up in sympathy. “Yes,” Fitzroy agreed, his voice softer than it ever was except when speaking to Cliopher. “You are Cliopher’s dearest friends, my—if you would like to stay with us, you would be most welcome.”

Cliopher heard what his beloved couldn’t say, understood that even now—even when it was just the five of them—Fitzroy could not, would not, directly invite Ludvic and Rhodin and Conju to stay; he did not want them to feel obligated. Heart aching, he hurried over to his fanoa and tucked himself in close to his side, curling his fingers around Fitzroy’s closest hand and squeezing gently. Then, he looked around at his friends. “This isn’t about asking you to remain a part of Tor’s household. Once he’s retired, he won’t be the emperor anymore. He won’t need a household. What he will need is friends. If you can—” Cliopher paused, uncertain how to—

“I would be glad to retire here with you both,” Ludvic said, giving a solemn nod. “As long as you don’t mind me cleaning up some of the woodwork. I’ll need something to do—and I can’t imagine anyone you might hire would be able to everything that is needed.”

Cliopher chuckled. “You’d be welcome to do anything you like. It would be—no, it is—your house too.”

Ludvic nodded again.

“I’m glad Ludvic agreed so quickly,” Rhodin said, his tone a mixture of amusement and relief. “That means, there is no need for me to prevaricate. I’d like the suite off the training room—if no one objects.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” Cliopher told him.

“I do. Thank you, Cliopher. Thank you, my lord.”

Cliopher felt the wince Fitzroy didn’t show. Once you’re retired, we can ban the use of titles, he promised, tightening his hold on his fanoa’s hand.

“I will take the other suite down here then,” Conju said definitively; he didn’t even glance at Cliopher and Fitzroy, simply glared good-humouredly at Rhodin. “I refuse to leave you unsupervised anywhere near this kitchen—and Ludvic has had to put up with you long enough.”

“You know very well that I’m an excellent cook,” Rhodin argued.

“Certainly, you are. But I don’t care to have to drink four gallons of water a day because you put enough spices in every meal to kill off every one of our taste buds.”

“I don’t use that much spice!”

“You most certainly do. Just ask Cliopher.”

Cliopher grimaced as both of his friends turned towards him. “It’ll still be a few years before we have to start worrying about who is going to be cooking what,” he said diplomatically, trying not to smile and failing utterly. “Tor and Conju haven’t even seen the rest of the house—so why don’t we head upstairs?”

***

The staircase to the second floor was in as rough a shape as Rhodin had warned, the awning above the stairs more holes than fabric. The ironwork of the banister—painted a lovely sky blue—was at least in decent shape—although it had a collected a number of nicks and chips that would need to be repaired and one of the ornate curls appeared misshapen, its tip entirely broken off.

He reached out, wanting to understand the broken edge more clearly, but before he could lay a finger on the railing, Fitzroy grabbed his hand. You can’t touch it. It’s sharp.

Cliopher froze for a long moment staring at the broken of railing. Oh, right. Thank you, Fitzroy. I’d forgotten.

You can’t remember everything, my dear, his fanoa offered kindly—too kindly to Cliopher’s mind.

It’s been over six months. I should know better by now, he said, frowning. You remember everything so easily.

I had a thousand years of practice, Fitzroy said gently, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of Cliopher’s hand. An amount of time I am very glad that you won’t have. I’ll be right here to remind you until it’s no longer needed—and so will Conju and Ludvic and Rhodin.

Where are—?

Cliopher glanced around, surprised to find that they were entirely alone on the stairs. No, not quite alone, he realized, spotting Ludvic at the bottom of the staircase—but more alone than they’d usually be allowed out in public.

We aren’t out in public, Fitzroy told him, entirely amused. This is our house now, remember?

Something in Fitzroy’s voice—Rhodin’s watching us from a window, isn’t he?

Perhaps, Fitzroy said, glancing up the stairs behind Cliopher, possibly looking right at Rhodin. But we could certainly pretend that he isn’t.

Cliopher chuckled, but dutifully wrapped an arm around Fitzroy’s back, then steered him so that they were looking away from the house, over courtyard and towards the lagoon. “That’s the bathhouse,” he explained, pointing at the small building tucked between their house and the one opposite.

“It looks a decent size. Bigger than the one at Navikiani even.”

Cliopher hummed in agreement. “It’s nothing like the Imperial Baths, of course—but it is a good size for Gorjo City. And you’ll be glad to know that there are indoor privies.”

Fitzroy rested his head on Cliopher’s shoulder. “I would have managed even if there weren’t given how much you love this house. I dealt with far worse—” His voice trailed off, but Cliopher heard the thought anyway—when I was with the Red Company.

“Perhaps you have, my dear,” Cliopher said, quirking his lips into an amused smile. “But Conju hasn’t. At least not outside of the one time we went camping together in the Liaau. You should have seen his face when I told him we’d need to dig a hole.”

***

When they finally made it to the second floor of Saya Dorn’s house—their house, Cliopher reminded himself—they found Conju in the dining room investigating the dumb-waiter and Rhodin lounging in one of the deep window seats overlooking the lagoon, looking surprisingly comfortable despite the lack of cushions. “You’ll need to have the roof inspected,” the spymaster suggested, waving at the wood beams anchoring the wall, where it appeared several birds had made nests. “I don’t think that many birds got in through a broken window or two.”

“Thank you, Rhodin,” Cliopher said, adding the inspection to his mental list—which was getting decidedly long. He couldn’t imagine being able to get the ball rolling on everything that was needed before they headed back to Solaara. And given the complexities associated with travel given the taboos, he doubted they’d make it back before Fitzroy’s quest. He’d need to enlist some help if the house was going to be ready for when they needed it after the Jubilee.

“Well, the birds aren’t getting in through the skylight,” Fitzroy offered, breaking off Cliopher’s train of thought. “Its magic is in excellent condition.”

Cliopher turned to find his fanoa standing in the centre of the sitting room, staring in fascination at the large hole in the ceiling. “I expect there’s meant to be some kind of brazier down here—” his beloved said, gesturing at the empty expanse of floor beneath the skylight. “Any smoke would be pulled up and out the skylight rather than filling the house and requiring the windows to be opened. But despite the aperture’s remarkable size, it is very well shielded. I promise you that nothing is getting through it—certainly not birds. It’s quite an ingenious bit of magic.”

“We’ll need to make certain that any work on the roof doesn’t disrupt it then,” Cliopher said firmly, warmed by the idea of having a fire at the centre of their house—of having a fire, and his friends, and his beloved. He reached for his efela-ko, wrapping his fingers around the warmed obsidian; he held it for a long moment, rubbing the side of his thumb against the slight indent where he’d once had to chip a piece off.

At least it wasn’t sharp, he realized, thinking about his close call with the railing. The piece he’d hived off it certainly had been—but that piece was tucked away in a box in the back of his closet of his childhood bedroom. Perhaps one day he’d be able to reclaim it—to use it again. Perhaps one day, he’d be able to do more than that—

Not today, he told himself, burying the thought before Fitzroy could notice. It was enough that he was carving out time to practice his dances. It was. It was.

“The Glory of Zunidh should arrive within the next hour, Cliopher,” Ludvic said loudly, startling Cliopher out of his reverie. “Perhaps you might want to take his Radiancy up to the third floor to watch the ship come in.”  

Cliopher shook his head, brushing all thoughts of fire away for the moment; he looked at his friend—who was holding the door to the recessed stairs open.

“The third floor?” Fitzroy asked, raising both a physical and mental eyebrow.

“It’s a solarium,” Cliopher explained, already smiling in anticipation of his fanoa’s response to both the room and its incredible view. He grabbed Fitzroy’s arm gently, tugging him away from the skylight. “Come on, I’ll show you—”

Ludvic stepped back as Cliopher nudged Fitzroy towards the stairs. “Given how narrow the stairs are, it’s probably safest if just the two of you go up,” Ludvic said matter-of-factly. “Rhodin and I already inspected it. Just watch your step on the stairs. They’re very uneven.”

Cliopher gave his friend a suspicious look, but the Commander of the Imperial Guard simply gazed right back at him, his expression entirely emotionless.

Do you really want to argue with him, my dear?  Fitzroy asked.

No, but—Doesn’t it feel strange to you that he’s giving us so much space? I know we’re pretty safe here, but still—

My dear Kip, Fitzroy said fondly, affectionately, slightly bemused. I believe Commander Omo is trying to give us time alone together before he has to start worrying about one or the other of us becoming the target of assassination—which isn’t out of the question given the crimes that you uncovered this morning.

He’s what? Cliopher choked, then blushed, then immediately turned to Ludvic. “Assassins—really?”

Ludvic didn’t even pretend not to know exactly what Cliopher was referring to. “Cliopher—you uncovered a conspiracy involving the Princess of the Vangavaye-ve and quite possibly a large percentage of her court. Did you honestly think that wouldn’t have repercussions?”

Cliopher shook his head, unable to say a word. His fanoa—knowing exactly what he was feeling—didn’t make him. Fitzroy knew full well that Cliopher hadn’t considered the possibility of assassination attempts. He hadn’t really considered anything beyond the need for Aioru to ensure an airtight case and the possible need to find a replacement for Princess Oriana. The idea that someone might attack him—or worse, Fitzroy—hadn’t even crossed his mind. He shuddered, shivered, trembled at the very idea of it.

Shh. No one is going to hurt either of us, Fitzroy told him firmly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Cliopher’s back. That is what Ludvic and Rhodin and all the other guards are here for.

But maybe I could have handled things differen—

You handled the situation exactly right, Fitzroy told him sternly. What other people do as a result is not on your head.

Cliopher swallowed audibly. He knew Fitzroy's words for truth, but that didn't make that the idea of his fanoa being hurt because of him any less terrifying.

No one is going to hurt either of us, Fitzroy said again. Ludvic and Rhodin will make sure of it. Cliopher wanted to believe him, but Fitzroy’s anxieties and worries were curdling in his own stomach. His fanoa wasn’t only trying to convince Cliopher of their safety.

His beloved smiled ruefully. You're not wrong, his fanoa admitted. Which is exactly why Ludvic is offering us a distraction.

***

As distractions went, Saya Dorn’s workroom performed admirably.

Cliopher watched his mesmerized fanoa from the comfort of a built-in bench running under one of the solarium’s great curved windows. The bench itself was entirely solid and surprisingly comfortable, although the window above it would need to be replaced given the long crack cutting sharply down the centre of it. The glass fishing floats hanging along the top of the window—along all of the solarium’s windows—looked in far better shape, if caked in at least a decade of dust.

Fitzroy stood in the centre of the solarium, directly under a circular aperture that was a near match to the one in the sitting room, his golden eyes beautiful and bright with magic. Cliopher thrilled with his fanoa’s delight, his excitement, his wonder, despite the room’s state of disrepair. “The magic likes me—likes us,” Fitzroy told him, his tone utterly soft and dazed and amazed. “It wants to belong to us. It feels like it’s already ours.”

Cliopher smiled fondly, enchanted by his fanoa’s disbelief. “It is ours,” he said gently. “It needs a lot of work—but it is already ours. We’ll take care of it. We’ll love it. It will be our home.”

 Fitzroy beamed. “Our home,” he said quietly, entirely astonished—as if Cliopher hadn’t said so a half-a-dozen times.

It didn’t matter; Cliopher would keep saying it, as many times as his beloved needed to hear it in order to believe it. “Our home,” he agreed, gestured to the empty place at his side. Fitzroy needed no further invitation. He happily clambered onto the bench, tucking himself in between Cliopher and the window.

"It’s beautiful, my dear Kip," Fitzroy said, tugging Cliopher closer. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I think you’re besotted, beloved,” Cliopher told him, chuckling softly, letting himself relax against Fitzroy’s chest. He pulled his fanoa’s arms around him, twined their fingers together in his lap. The gold of his marks blazed beautifully against Fitzroy’s dark skin.

“I am,” Fitzroy agreed. “With you and with our house.”

"It needs a lot of work," Cliopher cautioned, thinking of the loose floorboards, the peeling paint, the cracked windows. The birds’ nests.

"I expect it will be much easier to fix than the government."

Cliopher laughed. Fitzroy laughed. They both laughed as amusement bubbled effervescently between them. "That's certainly true,” he said after a moment. “And we can get help. My niece is studying to be an architect. I thought we could ask her to manage the restoration while we're—"

"Finishing your restoration?" Before Cliopher could say anything, Fitzroy added, "That seems eminently reasonable. I'm fully behind delegation. It's certainly worked well for me."

"Leona's young. She's just started studying."

His fanoa bumped his head gently with his own. "You were young the first day you came into my study."

"Not that young." Cliopher said, blushing. "I'll ask her then. Once we're done with—"

"Let's not worry about that right now," Fitzroy said before Cliopher could finish the sentence. "Trust Aioru to do his job. And Ludvic and Rhodin.”

"I do." Cliopher sighed, curling into Fitzroy’s chest. It felt nice after the challenging morning and then so much time investigating the house. "You don't mind that I asked Ludvic, and Rhodin, and Conju to—"

"Of course not," Fitzroy answered before Cliopher could even finish his thought. "They're—" he stopped and glanced worriedly towards the stairs.

Cliopher’s heart ached fiercely at his fanoa’s concern, his fear, his discomfort at the idea of voicing such thoughts given who he was—who he would still be for at least several more years.

Family, Cliopher finished because he could say it, even if his beloved wasn’t ready yet. Fitzroy didn't say anything, but Cliopher could feel his agreement, his desire, his intense longing. Family, Cliopher said again—silently, softly, sure.