Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part 1

It took a while for Cliopher to notice that something was amiss.

In retrospect, he probably should have gotten at least a little suspicious when Franzel, as he was setting out the clothes he had deemed suitable for Sir's day, sniffed and suggested that if Sir was adamant on not allowing him to get rid of the old couch Sir had insisted on moving in from his old apartments, perhaps Sir would at least allow him to have the upholstery redone. As it was, Cliopher was only mildly irritated that no one else seemed to appreciate the comfort of a beloved soft couch, and equally mildly relieved that his staff seemed to be relaxing around him enough to bring their concerns to him.

Not long after that, he was slightly surprised and bemused when Shoänie confided to him, as she was pouring his coffee for him, that she herself could not stand coffee, did not like the taste or the jittery feeling it gave her, but found the scent pleasing enough, so carrying and pouring it was not a hardship, thankfully.

“Oh,” he said, perplexed by this admission. “Well, I’m glad to hear that?” She gave him a warm smile, assured him that he looked splendid this morning in the clothes Franzel had chosen, and left the pot as she exited the room.

This minor source of confusion was, in turn, soon swept away by Tully showing him his schedule for the day and casually adding that she had booked a full hour for Féonie, because she believed it did him good to stay still for an entire hour and she had seen no other way to inspire him to do so.

"I. Um. Really?" Cliopher squinted at his young appointments secretary in some bafflement for a moment.

She nodded firmly and informed him that "everyone", from Gaudy to his Radiancy to the head chef at the canteen, thought so as well. Well, he did want to encourage initiative and slightly radical thinking in his underlings, he mused, and Féonie did have a great deal of work to do to finish the (truly extravagant and unnecessarily opulent) set of robes he was to wear on their upcoming tour of Zunidh. She could almost certainly use the extra hour.

The new and unexpected candor of his household was, however, quickly buried under other thoughts as he raced from meeting to meeting. Some of them went surprisingly well; some of the more cantankerous and belligerent officials, ministers and nobles had abruptly decided to simply come out and say what they wanted instead of attempting to pull Cliopher into their petty games of insinuations and veiled hints. Pleased with being so uncommonly able to take their words at face value, Cliopher made a great deal of progress on several fronts.

It was only at the meeting with the Council of Princes was where Cliopher started to suspect that all was not quite as usual.

It began with the Prince of Nijan interrupting a discussion on the situation with the Nijani police force by accusing Cliopher of attempting to win his people over and trying to usurp his principality. This was countered by the Prince of Amboloyo, whose unexpected defense that the accusation was absurd, that his Radiancy would have given Lord Mdang a principality ages ago if he had ever expressed the slightest interest in becoming a prince, and that the Lord Chancellor was exactly where Zunidh needed him was startling enough that Cliopher was struck speechless for a good moment.

His temporary speechlessness was immediately seized by Princess Oriana, who scoffed inelegantly and warned the rest of the council against letting him "dig in", as she had recently discovered that her own principality was already “infested” with Mdangs and their spouses and children.

"I should know," she said darkly, with a scowl in Cliopher's direction, "I keep trying to find ways to threaten or get rid of them, but my spymaster has assured me that exiling everyone he's related to would collapse the infrastructure of the entire Gorjo City, whatever that means. He's trying to take over the entire world, one cousin and marriage at a time, mark my words."

While Cliopher was still opening and closing his mouth in shock and trying to decide which to tackle first – a princess of Zunidh admitting to attempted blackmail of a government official, the fact that she did not seem to know what infrastructure meant, or her outrageous claim that he was maneuvering his relatives into marriages to advance his political agenda – the Princess of Xiputl steered the conversation even further onto strange waters.

"He's welcome to my useless nephew," said Princess Anastasiya, her dark eyes flinty as she, too, graced Cliopher as well as the empty throne beside him with a disdainful look. "If he refuses to sleep in the imperial bed, he might as well sleep in his Lord Chancellor's."

This was so absurd, treasonous, and absurdly treasonous coming from her in particular that all the other princes and princesses immediately burst into overlapping commentary on the blasphemy (some of which, if Cliopher's ears didn't fail him, simply piled more blasphemy on top of Princess Anastasiya's comment). Mind reeling and deeply confused and alarmed, he called for the meeting to adjourn and be continued at a later time. By this point more than one prince and princess was looking a little startled at their own daring and were quick to agree to postpone the rest of the meeting.

The receding tide of princes left Cliopher sagged in his chair and feeling rather like a beached fish: breathless and utterly baffled by the world abruptly turning upside down on him and, quite possibly, in mortal danger. He blinked slowly and turned to look up at his guards.

"I, ah." He cleared his throat. "Believe I should go see his Radiancy and… report these events." Before he hears of them via some other route, he thought, but didn't add aloud.

One of the guards – Cliopher believed his name was Uomas – beamed down at him. "Certainly, my lord. His Radiancy will be happy to see you."

This statement, while hopefully true (oh, how he hoped it was true!) had the effect that Cliopher had to sit back down in the middle of getting up and take deep breaths for a while longer. His guards, like all those trained by Ludvic for the inner guard, were normally taciturn and not as prone to expressing radical ideas, such as the Sun-on-Earth having human emotions, as Cliopher's prized secretaries.

"I… see," was all he managed in response to that.

The trek up to the Imperial Apartments took rather longer than usual, for almost everyone they passed on their way veered off their original course to come share some tidbit or opinion with Cliopher. By the time they had made it to the first antechamber, Cliopher was both offended and touched by how many people – mostly members of the Service, but the occasional courtier as well – seemed to be concerned for his wellbeing and willing to berate him for working too much, faintly amused by the comments, both shy and knowing, from people who “knew” that he was trying to overthrow the government and wanted to let him know that they approved, and alarmed by the amount of direct propositions he had received.

He was also more than a little shocked by his guards assuring him that it was common knowledge that Lady This-and-That and Lord an-Something-Something and several of their peers had a betting pool on who could first manage to cajole the apparently impervious Lord Chancellor into participating in an escapade of romantic nature, but he tried to not let it show.

He was admitted through the first several doors without challenge and, thankfully, without comment (although he saw several of the guards open their mouths and turn after him as if to speak, and it was only because he hurried forward that they did not get the opportunity). At the last door before their – his Radiancy's – familiar study waited Pikabe and Ato, both of whom broke into wide smiles upon seeing him approach.

“My lord,” they greeted him, and Ato continued, “here to see his Radiancy?”

“Yes,” Cliopher said warily, wondering whether the mysterious ailment that had swept through the Palace had made its way here, yet.

“He’s getting dressed to meet with the Alinorel ambassador,” Ato informed him.

So far, so good. Cliopher nodded, relieved. “I shall wait, then. I will only require a moment of his time before he leaves for the meeting."

To his dismay, Pikabe only laughed at this and reached for the doors. "Wait here, indeed! His Radiancy was perfectly clear that you were to be granted access to his person whenever you so wished." He grinned as he pushed the doors open and stamped the spears in unison with Ato. When Cliopher hesitated, he winked. "Personally, I don't believe you get the opportunity to see him get dressed nearly often enough."

Cliopher very firmly resisted the urge to ask what that was supposed to mean and hurried into the study with a vague feeling that the less he heard of this, the better.

The study was indeed empty, but a knock at the ivory doors brought him one of Lady Ylette's younger underlings. They had never once spoken a word in Cliopher presence and had always seemed to find him a little intimidating, but of course today they did not hesitate to run a scathing commentary on his hat (askew), sleeves (wrinkled), collar (there was a miniscule coffee stain from his breakfast) and nails (really!) as they walked him to his Radiancy's dressing room. Lady Ylette, upon opening the door, seconded the sentiment but added that Féonie had done an excellent job on the embroidery around his collar.

"She really admires you, my Féonie," she informed him with a pleased air as she deposited a very flustered Cliopher into the dressing room and swept into an adjacent room, underling in tow.

Even as he paused to gather his wits after this most unusual greeting, Cliopher was happy to hear Lady Ylette speak of his tiny dictator of a costumier in such a fond manner.

"Well, my dear lord chancellor," his Radiancy's deep voice greeted him, warm and amused. "This is the second time I've had this pleasure – is one of your relatives visiting unexpectedly again?"

He was standing on a low stool in front of the mirrors again, his back to Cliopher and his golden eyes on the largest mirror before him. He was holding his arms aloft to allow Conju access to his clothes, and was already wearing a close-fitting one-sleeved tunic in glowing white that fell past his knees and left his left shoulder and arm bare. Conju was holding a bolt of ahalo cloth in shimmering gold and was just starting to wind it around his Radiancy's torso and bare shoulder. 

Cliopher's eyes caught on his shoulderblade shifting as he raised his arms, at the golden powder dabbed liberally over the curve of muscle on his shoulder, sleek and well-defined from swimming. Set against the white of the cloth, his skin seemed an even deeper black, a night sky against the sprinkling of gold stars.

"Cliopher?"

Blinking out of his reverie and hastily burying any thought of wondering what starpaths that night sky might hold, Cliopher bowed, belatedly and rather more formally than he had for a while. "My lord," he said. "Apologies for the interruption, but some strange magic seems to have taken over the Palace, and I thought it best to inform you immediately."

Either his words or his unusual formality made his Radiancy turn around and step down from the stool in some alarm. Cliopher thought that he had never really noticed that his Radiancy had collarbones, hidden as they usually were by jewelry and cloth. Had he noticed collarbones on their vacation? He didn't think so.

"What sort of strange…" His Radiancy had been speaking as he stepped down and turned to face Cliopher, but he halted and trailed off almost immediately upon meeting his eyes. For a moment he stared at Cliopher, eyes wide with surprise and glowing with magic as he tried to assess the situation, as if he could see traces of the magic on Cliopher even if Cliopher himself seemed to be immune to it.

"Oh," was the final verdict, said in a breathless, shocked whisper.

Cliopher thought that a trifle cryptic, and took a step forward to explain, "I first noticed it this morning, when Franzel—"

He trailed off in astonishment when his Radiancy recoiled from him.

His Radiancy backed away from him so hurriedly that he nearly tripped over the stool and knocked the bolt of ahalo cloth from Conju's hands with his elbow as he flailed for balance. Cliopher held himself perfectly still in shocked dismay and saw the mouths of the guards drop open in surprise as they watched his Radiancy regain his balance, step around the stool, and then back further away and behind Conju. Conju’s face was a study in maintaining composure through extreme situations, only his eyebrows – raised somewhat higher than normal – displaying his emotions.

“My… lord?” Cliopher asked, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to spook his Radiancy, and that was certainly a thought he had never imagined having. As if anything could spook his Radiancy!

Who was not even looking at him.

“My study, please, all of you,” the Glorious One told the back of Conju’s shoulder, eyes firmly fixed on some detail on his attendant’s robe. “Except for you,” his eyes flicked to Zerafin, who stood guard over him with Oginu today, “you shall send a page to find Commander Omo and Ser Rhodin. Ask Ludvic to stay with Lord Mdang in the study and send Rhodin to me.”

Lord Mdang in a sentence where Commander Omo was Ludvic and Ser Rhodin was Rhodin felt like a punch to the gut. Cliopher tried to hold still, bewildered and hurt, his previous concerns completely forgotten, as Zerafin stalked to the door, called for a page, and talked with her quietly for a moment before returning to his place.

Conju seemed equally baffled and turned to look at his lord over his shoulder, looking unsure if that was allowed. In another situation it might have looked ridiculous, the tall Lord Magus of Zunidh hiding behind his slim and prim attendant rather than his guards – in a situation where he wasn’t hiding from Cliopher, perhaps. “My lord, are you well? What can I do?” he asked, his voice smooth and calm despite his agitation, no doubt the voice that brought the Glorious One out of his trances when he worked great magic.

His Radiancy looked up at Conju, then hastily lowered his eyes again when he saw Cliopher hovering anxiously several steps behind him. “Go with Cliopher, please. See that both our appointments are canceled for today and that he stays in my study. Do not let him leave! Call for Domina Audry. I must…” His gaze swept the room, careful to glide over Cliopher as quickly as possible, and settled on a door. “I must go."

There was no other word for it: the Last Emperor of Astandalas fled, his guards hurrying to keep up with him.

Cliopher was left standing in the imperial dressing room, confused and upset, with his own guards and Conju staring at him.

At length, Cliopher said, numbly, "I… am not sure what that was about."

Conju looked equally unsure, but he visibly squared his shoulders, scoffed and strode to Cliopher. "Well, his Radiancy has given us instructions, and we had better follow them. Come along, Cliopher, don't just stand there looking like an abandoned puppy!" He snapped his fingers and led Cliopher (who considered that an abandoned puppy was an apt description for how he must have looked, forlornly trailing after the Groom of the Chambers) back to the familiar study.

Once there, he pointed Cliopher to take a seat at his old secretary's desk, sent a page for his Radiancy's physician and proceeded to busy himself by bustling around the room straightening things that were already pin-straight and sweeping his finger disapprovingly on surfaces as if through a thick layer of dust. "Everything is spotless, of course, as usual," he grumbled to Cliopher. "As if I would tolerate anything less! But couldn't they have left a single speck of dust for me to stress-clean?"

Cliopher stared at him mutely, pulled out of his misery by the reminder that he had come to see his Radiancy for a reason. "Oh dear. You're infected, too." A terrible thought struck him. "Is that why his Radiancy had to flee? Is he infected as well?"

"My dear, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, but I am sure his Radiancy did not flee," Conju informed him firmly.

"He called for Domina Audry," Cliopher worried. "He must be feeling very unwell…"

Conju compressed his lips but did not have time to comment before Ludvic and Rhodin arrived. Rhodin only greeted them with a wave of his hand and went on further into the Apartments, but Ludvic came straight to Cliopher.

"What treason have you committed this time?" he asked in a resigned tone.

"Oh, what hasn't he," Conju muttered while Cliopher was still busy spluttering indignantly.

"True," Ludvic commented placidly, "but it is not every day that I'm commanded to keep an eye on him and see that he doesn't leave the room."

"I haven't done anything!" Cliopher protested. "There is something wrong with the entire Palace, I'm sure his Radiancy is currently instructing Rhodin to investigate that."

But it turned out that his Radiancy had instructed Rhodin on something else entirely.

"It's a truth spell," he said when he returned to the study. "You're under an enchantment, Cliopher. The good news is that the protections his Radiancy has placed on you have shielded you; the bad news is that the protections that block the spell are also reflecting it, meaning that instead of you it affects everyone who comes near you. You may have noticed an unusual propensity for candor in your vicinity today?"

Cliopher stared.

"You look like a confused owl," Rhodin observed amicably, which coming from Rhodin did not prove anything, but Ludvic echoing the sentiment did. 

"Goodness," Cliopher said faintly. "I suppose that explains a lot. Did you know that Princess Oriana wants to have all my relatives exiled from Vangavaye-ve?"

"She said that?" Rhodin looked equally fascinated and appalled.

"Among other things…"

Rhodin was still quizzing Cliopher on his experiences that day when Domina Audry arrived. It turned out that she had been called to inspect Cliopher, not his Radiancy ("Really, what did you think?" Conju sighed), and she did so quickly and efficiently and pronounced him physically hale and healthy.

"Or as close as possible, considering how much pressure you're under," she remarked, frowning severely at him. "You are as bad as the Glorious One! He at least has his magic keeping him healthy, and even that was not enough. You, my lord, must rest like any mortal, if you want to avoid a heart attack of your own!"

This, at least, was a truth Cliopher felt he deserved. He nodded, feeling rather like a schoolboy being berated by a teacher.

After she left, Rhodin went to share his findings with his Radiancy. They had experimented to the extent they could, with only the four of them and Cliopher’s guards and the confines of the study at hand, and concluded that the spell compelled people to speak the truth when questioned by Cliopher or someone also in the area of effect, and to spout random truths and opinions when not. Standing far enough apart that they needed to raise their voices to hear each other properly put the other person outside the spell's effect, and having Cliopher in one's field of vision seemed to strengthen the urge to spill truths.

"But why did his Radiancy leave?" Cliopher asked Ludvic and Conju, exasperated. "Surely he could investigate the magic more efficiently if he did it himself, rather than through Rhodin."

Conju rolled his eyes. "Oh Cliopher, why do you think? He's afraid of what he might say!"

It had never occurred to Cliopher that his Radiancy might be afraid of anything, and to have it be him he was afraid of was a horrifying thought. "But why?" he cried in despair.

Ludvic raised a brow. "You know he's always worried about us feeling obligated. If he says something about how he feels, it becomes a command, and what would you do, then?"

Cliopher did know that, had only recently thought of how all the language of friendship and love was filtered through the power dynamic between the Last Emperor and his subjects, how all his Radiancy could do to invite friendship was to open the door and hope they would walk through it.

"But surely he knows he doesn't need to worry about that, that he has my friendship and admiration already," he argued.

Ludvic and Conju stared at him with almost identical expressions of stupefied incredulity. Cliopher blinked and looked around to see that his own guards were giving him a similar look.

Conju recovered first. "My dear idiot!" he exclaimed. "He's in love with you!"

Cliopher opened his mouth to retort, but then his mind caught up with Conju's words and went completely blank.

Ludvic continued, "And he's afraid of making you feel uncomfortable and obligated to respond to his feelings, so he's avoiding you to keep that secret from you." He paused, then added, ruefully, "Evidently he did not consider that we might spill it for him, or he would have chosen someone else to stand guard over you today."

"It is possible, although nearly inconceivable, that his Radiancy is not aware of how transparent his affection for Cliopher is," Conju lamented, which Ludvic acknowledged with an aggrieved nod.

"Affection," Cliopher echoed dumbly.

"In love," Conju underlined firmly.

"Surely he…"

"He most certainly does.”

Cliopher’s mind was reeling, and he thought he should sit down or he might keel over, only to realize that he was already sitting down and still feeling like the room was dancing in his vision.

He had never realized – never even considered – he had admired his Radiancy, certainly, his kindness and his wit and his patience and his control and his beautiful hands and—

But the idea that the fondness in his Radiancy’s eyes when he looked at Cliopher, the wry smile on his lips, the casual invitations for lunch or a game of chess or simply dropping by at Cliopher’s new apartments, fully aware that Cliopher would never dare to invite him, that all these small moments had been because his Radiancy was—

His mind sputtered to a stop at finding a word.

(—choosing him, and continuing to choose him, day after day, decade after decade, for centuries and even more so in the last few years—)

There was a word for that.

“What’s with him?” Rhodin’s voice floated from somewhere far away.

“Oh, he’s daydreaming about his Radiancy,” Conju replied loftily, with an air of annoyance and affectionate exasperation. “Again.”

“Ah, of course,” Rhodin agreed, not at all surprised.

But that was it. There could be no choosing when his Radiancy was so limited, so constrained.

Oh, there had been attempts to cajole him into marrying and producing an heir, and if the first options had been his sister and a child cousin, Cliopher knew that there had been other, more viable options thrown at him after the Fall, women chosen from a shrinking pool of nobility as the years went by and the remaining members of the government bent on reviving the Empire became increasingly concerned by his lack of interest and therefore decreasingly concerned about the proper bloodlines. Looking at that from the outside, it looked like an immense honor to be chosen above all these candidates.

Looking at this from the inside, knowing how much his Radiancy yearned to be seen as human, how he must have abhorred the mindless adoration and servitude of each option presented to him, knowing how rare it was, still, for anyone to even meet his eyes…

Oh, his poor lord.

“Cliopher,” Ludvic said steadily. “I know that expression. What ridiculous thing have you convinced yourself you’re responsible for, now?”

Cliopher looked up, horrified. “I’ve been taking advantage of him,” he said numbly.

“What.” Conju’s stare was unimpressed.

“Think about it!” Cliopher cried. “He was completely isolated before he came to the throne, and after that he has been treated like a glorified statue—”

“Excuse me!” Conju hissed, nostrils flaring dangerously.

“—And he was almost entirely deprived of all human interaction, he even – he even told me once that I was the first person to look at him as if he were a human being – he must have latched onto that… He’s so desperate to be seen as human—”

“I cannot have heard you just describe his lordship as desperate!”

“—That it’s no wonder he thought – he must have only been grateful to have one person treat him as a man…”

Rhodin blinked at him. “What are we, then, houseplants?”

“Oh,” Cliopher paused in dismay, “I didn’t…”

“No, Cliopher’s right,” Ludvic interrupted placidly. “We’ve tried, but it’s a recent development, and not one of us would have dreamed of offering the Sun-on-Earth a vacation. But that’s not why he’s in love with you, Cliopher. It’s because you’re always humming Aurora, and he’s Fitzroy Angursell.”

“I am not!” Cliopher gasped.

“He is not!” Conju denied.

“He said he’s not!” Rhodin argued.

Belatedly, Cliopher added, “He’s what?”

It was Ludvic’s turn to blink at them. “Ah. I suppose that could be the other reason he wanted to avoid Cliopher while the spell was active.” He gave Conju, Rhodin and Cliopher’s guards an apologetic glance with a steely edge. “You don’t report to me, Conju, but I assume I can trust you all, whether you work for me or not, to have his Radiancy’s best interest in mind and keep everything said here today to yourselves?”

“Of course!” Conju was flushed, like underneath his cool surface something was even now inching closer to a boiling point. “Why would I spread such harmful, hurtful lies about my lord? I am sure he would not be caught dead being an outlaw! Or a rebel poet with no taste! By the stars, Ludvic, if he turned out to be a poet he would at least most certainly be brilliant at it!”

Cliopher was barely hanging on to the thread of this conversation, but that was too much to ignore even in his utterly confused state. “Fitzroy Angursell is a brilliant poet,” he declared hotly, “and Aurora is his most astute commentary on the Astandalan law code, as demonstrated by even his Radiancy following parts of it in his renovations on… on…”

He trailed off. Remembered thinking that Pali Avramapul had very clearly known his Radiancy once. Remembered the quick, charged ”Yes?” the first time Cliopher has dared to utter the name of Fitzroy Angursell within his hearing. Remembered the oubliette.

Remembered the promise of a secret name, implied to be less than safe to say out loud.

“Oh gods,” he said faintly and slumped back into his chair, abruptly feeling entirely boneless and nerveless.

Rhodin pressed on, heedless of Conju attempting to seize Cliopher's stupefaction to rattle off a list of reasons for why he disliked Fitzroy Angursell’s poetry, “quite apart from the treason”, by standing up and crying out, “But he said he's not an imposter! Are you saying he lied to me?”

“Surely that's what most imposters do,” Conju scoffed before Ludvic got his mouth open.

“That would mean that we've been guarding and dressing a conman, an outlaw and a rebel!” Rhodin stared wildly at Ludvic. “And you – you've known this whole time, and never said – which means that he's holding the real Artorin Damara hostage somewhere, to keep you cooperating, and – oh!” He turned his stare to Cliopher. “You're an accomplice! No wonder he made a commoner his secretary and then kept elevating you!”

Cliopher bristled at the accusation. “Rhodin! An accomplice of Fitzroy Angursell I will take, gladly, but to be accused of gaining this position by anything other than hard work and dedication—”

“No, that was me,” Conju put in, “there were no competent nobles around and himself was starting to get annoyed, so I started a rumor that the Master of Offices was too afraid to hire commoners—”

“You got Cliopher hired?”

“What do you mean, no competent nobles around? I was right there!”

“I didn't know you, and besides, you have still not weaseled out the secret ingredient in Lady Maybeth’s perfume for me, so about that competence—”

“Um,” said Uomas from behind Cliopher’s chair, clearing his throat and raising his voice to be heard over the conversation. “My lords, I'm not sure I followed, but I heard Artorin Damara held as hostage by a known outlaw and I…”

He faltered when no one stopped to listen, but his partner, Fauri, blithely went on, “... Wondered if that should not be our priority, perhaps, over the merits of anyone's poetry or hiring practices? It's not as though it's a secret that the Glorious One made Lord Mdang his secretary because he has beautiful eyes, or that Lord Mdang’s incessant humming of Aurora is in fact a coded love letter…”

“Love letters! Why aren't you simply communicating mind-to-mind with his Radiancy? Or the impostor—”

“There is no impostor—”

“Enough! Everyone, be quiet for a moment!”

For a wonder, everyone did fall quiet at Cliopher's exasperated command and turn to stare at him.

He held the silence for a few minutes, trying to breathe and center his spinning thoughts. Around him, his friends started to fidget, as though under unbearable pressure (or in urgent need of a privy), and a moment later, the guards followed along.

He was almost resigned to it by the time his friends finally burst, almost simultaneously, evidently unable to hold their silence with secrets unspilled and no one asking questions.

“There's a tunnel between your apartments and his Radiancy’s bedroom!” Rhodin announced, getting his words out first by virtue of saying them so fast they almost blurred together.

“A what—”

“Language lessons! Gaudy! His Radiancy wanted to surprise you!”

Cliopher turned to stare at Conju, who had already smacked his hands over his own mouth and was now scowling at him furiously.

Before he could address that, however, Ludvic interjected with a calm, “I'm Masseo Umrit’s son,” effectively winning him the game of most shocking revelation.

(In the stunned silence that followed, Uomas leaned over to whisper to Fauri, “I think you should ask Pikabe out, just say that thing about coded love letters.”

Cliopher blinked, considered, and decided that he had quite enough on his plate right now and that it did not do to wonder what the young guards did on their time off, in any case.)

His friends were eyeing him warily. He eyed them back.

“Ludvic,” he said, and the commander sat up straighter. “I assume if you had any reason to suspect that the true Artorin Damara was imprisoned somewhere, we would not be having a conversation about it but would have seen some action taken long since, no matter what the situation or,” and it was unbelievable that he had to say this, “who your father was?”

“Naturally,” Ludvic agreed easily. “Artorin Damara is safely in his rooms, hiding from you.”

As if that was in any way normal.

“But he—” Rhodin started.

“... Assured you he was no impostor, I'm sure,” Cliopher continued, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Which has the virtue of being true, if he is somehow both Artorin Damara and Fitzroy Angursell, and is certainly the sort of half-truth both his Radiancy and a particular rebel poet would find amusing.”

“But he can't be,” Conju wailed. “I don't even like Angursell's poems! How can they be his work?”

To that Cliopher had no response, except to suspect that his Radiancy would be both dismayed by this condemnation of his poetry and conversely delighted to hear that he had finally managed to elicit a less than favorable reaction from Conju.

Ludvic peered at Cliopher curiously. “You truly didn’t know? But you’ve been humming Aurora in his presence from the beginning. I thought you had to know…”

“Know what?” Cliopher aimed for an airy chuckle, but what emerged sounded more like a hysterical giggle. His voice came out high-pitched and strangled. “That the Glorious One is in love with me? That apparently I tend to hum treason at the head of the entire Zuni government? That the Last Emperor is either an outlaw poet or held prisoner by one? That there is a secret passage from my rooms to the Imperial Bedchamber? Where, if I understood correctly, Fitzroy Angursell of the Red Company is currently hiding so that he will not overwhelm me with love confessions or by being Fitzroy Angursell? That Conju can't stand the greatest poetry of this age? That your father is both a Terror of Astandalas and a dear friend of your lord, who is also a Terror of Astandalas? That my nephew is holding secret language lessons to that very same Terror because the Lord of Rising Stars wanted to surprise me?”

His friends glanced at each other. Rhodin attempted a grin. “Don't forget that Conju got you hired, or that Fauri has a crush on Pikabe.”

“Or that Princess Oriana wants to blackmail your family,” Ludvic added. “That is definitely something we should address as soon as this is cleared.”

Right. Cleared. Cliopher took a deep breath, rubbed his face – it was only afternoon, but the day felt several years long – and said, “Well. I am no mage, but this does not seem to be going away, and indeed seems to be getting worse. I think that, in the light of every secret you have spilled, his Radiancy cannot possibly have too many left, himself, and I have a feeling that this is going to require a powerful mage to investigate and lift. I'm going to go see him.”

He stood up and waited for the others to protest that this would mean going against a direct order, but either his expression was determined enough to discourage them, or the truths that had already been spilled had convinced them as well that his Radiancy could not have much else to hide, and that he was undoubtedly their best chance to fix this. No one tried to stop him, except for Conju, who only did so to straighten out his collar and smooth his hair before deeming him presentable enough to show up in front of his Radiancy.

“There we go,” he said, patting Cliopher on the shoulder before letting him go. “Never let it be said that I allowed his Radiancy to confess his undying devotion to anyone with a wrinkled collar or tousled hair!”

Chapter Text

Part 2

With a sense of heading into battle, Cliopher knocked on the ivory doors and was admitted back into the personal apartments of his lord.

Once in, he was treated to a long lament concerning sewing pearls into heavy clothing by Lady Ylette’s assistant, and to several new confessions from the other members of the Imperial Household they passed on their way deeper into the apartments. Cliopher studiously ignored the four attendants, maids and pages who felt compelled to let him know who was courting whom or who harbored a secret passion for writing salacious poetry, the nervous page who confessed that she had a ring hidden in her pocket and was going to propose to her girlfriend, who worked in the kitchens, at dinner today, and the maid who mournfully confided to him that she thought she was going to get demoted because Lord Conju did not like the way she folded his Radiancy’s towels. He did make a mental note to return to the topic of the page who admitted to sometimes repeating messages verbally when the message had been both written and stated out loud, and keeping the original letters sent by his Radiancy to sell to collectors of imperial paraphernalia.

“Lord Mdang!” Elish and Varro greeted him when he made it to the doors of the Imperial Bedchamber. Cliopher steeled himself for another onslaught of opinions and secrets and announced his intention to see his Radiancy.

“Alone,” he added firmly, glancing at his own guards.

He had not, of course, truly expected alone, as this was not his Radiancy's private study – at most he had expected his own guards to accept that his Radiancy was unlikely to assassinate him and consent to waiting outside. To his surprise, Elish and Varro only nodded, looking pleased.

“It's almost as if he knew!” Elish marveled to his partner before clarifying to Cliopher, “His Radiancy was most adamant that he be left alone, as during his hour in his private study. He looked almost astonished that we agreed, in fact.”

His Radiancy had fought so hard for that one hour, once upon a time, and had always been terrified of becoming a tyrant. That he had, in all likelihood, not realized that with his position and the people around him altered from the days of the Empire, he could simply… demand more privacy, to a degree, made Cliopher's heart ache in sympathy.

“Of course he knew,” Varro insisted, giving Cliopher a reproachful look, made more impressive by the fact that he loomed so much taller than Cliopher. “I don't know what you said to upset his Radiancy so, my lord, but he must have known you would arrive soon to set things right.” He leaned in closer, his stern expression giving way to a kinder one. “Just so you know, we are not angry at you; we know that he is terribly fragile about the way he feels about you, my lord, and that you'll do the right thing.”

Cliopher opened his mouth to ask what things Varro assumed needed to be ‘set right’ between them, paused to consider that perhaps he should feel mortified rather than heartbroken over hearing how fragile his Radiancy felt about him, and finally settled for a faint “Thank you, Varro.”

With that, he was allowed in, the guards opening the twin doors and stamping their spears and announcing him as he slipped through. It was, perhaps, deliberately done that they only announced him as he was already stepping in, for it gave Cliopher time to see his Radiancy sitting on the edge of his bed, looking gloomy and forlorn, before the announcement and the sound of the spears stamping drew his gaze to the door. Cliopher tried to smile, but it turned into astonished blinking when his Radiancy spotted him, inhaled sharply, and… scrambled backwards onto the imperial bed and hastily pulled the curtains closed.

Cliopher stopped and glanced over his shoulder to confirm that the guards had also seen this undignified and utterly unemperorlike display. Varro frowned at him and jabbed a pointing finger in the direction of the imperial bed, and Elish mouthed “Good luck!” with a cheerful smile before they closed the doors behind him, so yes, it seemed they had.

He didn’t think his Radiancy had ever had cause to even touch the bed curtains himself.

“I believe you were instructed to stay in the study, and others were instructed to see that you did so!” his Radiancy’s voice came through the curtains, almost painfully serene but with a strange edge to it.

In any other circumstances Cliopher thought he would be terrified of that edge. In the current circumstances he thought that perhaps it was his Radiancy who was terrified.

He cleared his throat. “My lord, the situation has changed, and we agreed that it was best if I discussed the matter with you in person.”

There was movement behind the curtain. “I’m sorry,” his Radiancy countered icily, “I nearly think you just said that the senior members of my household, my guards, and my Lord Chancellor all decided it was best to go against a direct order?”

It was, Cliopher reflected, a sign of how bizarre the day had been that he did not even flinch at this. His knees did buckle reflexively, attempting to take him down to a full obeisance, but he locked them firmly and settled for a deep bow, conscious of the fact that he was alone in the room with his Radiancy, who could not possibly see him through the layers of curtains he had pulled between them.

“My lord,” he said delicately, still aware that while there was no one to see them, he could not be certain that they could not be heard through the doors, or that there weren’t hordes of anxious attendants waiting in the dressing room listening for a call for some trinket or refreshment, “I can only beg that you allow me to expand on the new developments and changed circumstances before judging us. I believe it would be wise to do so under a Wall of Silence.”

There was a brief, intrigued pause, followed by his Radiancy’s hand snaking through a gap in the curtains and making the gesture to invoke the Wall of Silence where Cliopher could see it. It warmed Cliopher that even upset and wrapped up in a defensive shield of icy anger, his Radiancy took into account that Cliopher could not reliably sense the magic activating around him.

“Go on, Lord Mdang,” his Radiancy said, his voice cool and serene, withdrawing his hand and smoothing the curtains between them again. Cliopher imagined him sitting right behind them, knees bent and arms around them, like a curious child, entirely at odds with his indifferent voice. “What can have changed enough to justify countermanding a direct order?”

What hadn’t!

Cliopher took a deep breath and suppressed the nervous chuckle that wanted to emerge at the stray thought that this, Cliopher spilling all sorts of little-known truths, was exactly what someone had wanted, putting that spell on him.

“My lord,” he began carefully, “it has been brought to my attention that you may be concerned that my unusual situation will inspire you to express your affection for me in a manner that would make me uncomfortable. In case there is some truth to this, I wish to assure you that there is no need for concern.”

Silence. Behind the curtains, his Radiancy held himself perfectly still; Cliopher didn't think he was even breathing. The silence pooled, crystalline and glass-thin, until it was broken by a single whisper, as far from serene and impenetrable as possible.

“What?”

He did not sound icy or angry, anymore; he sounded devastated, horrified, and perhaps a little fascinated despite himself. Cliopher sympathized. He had been following the discussion with increasingly incredulous fascination, himself.

“Of course,” he went on as smoothly as he could, distantly aware that he was falling back to reporting to his lord and wearing it like an armor every bit as much as his Radiancy had done, withdrawing into cool serenity, “if I have been incorrectly informed, my lord need only say so, and there will be no need to ever discuss this again.”

He let that hang in the air for a while, an offer of an escape route.

His Radiancy… did not take it. Said nothing at all, perhaps still too shocked at Cliopher’s temerity, at having this in the open, perhaps unsure how to respond in the affirmative without making it an order, perhaps simply upset that something he had thought a closely guarded secret was now known.

But he didn't deny it.

The silence stretched until it became an admission, even a permission, and Cliopher shivered suddenly with the weight of this knowledge, this blessing, this—

It was true.

How could it be true, why would he – and how had Cliopher never noticed—

No, no time for that now. There was more. He had to focus.

“Very well, my lord,” he managed after clearing his throat a few times. “In that case I suggest we take some time to address this topic as soon as we can do so safely. To that end, we need to figure out a way to lift the spell.” Still no response, but he could hear his Radiancy breathing, slow and measured, and had no reason to believe he wasn't listening. “I'm afraid the effects seem to be escalating, and I don't believe it's wise to invite one of the priest-wizards to investigate.”

“No indeed,” murmured his Radiancy. “Someone must have cast the spell on you, and I have not yet discounted it being one of them.”

Cliopher paused. He had not considered that, yet; he had only thought that he would not be allowed to (nor, in truth, feel comfortable to) meet one of the Ouranatha without his guards, and that while hearing what secrets the priest-wizards might spill would be both entertaining and enlightening, he could absolutely not risk his guards spilling any of his, or worse, his Radiancy’s, in their hearing.

His Radiancy went on, “Which is why I’ve been trying to recall if there is a single mage of at least moderate power in court that I could trust with my Lord Chancellor. I’m sorry to say that I can’t think of one.”

“I can think of one, and only one.”

Another careful silence of shallow breathing, finally broken by a softly murmured, almost reproachful “Kip…”

Cliopher’s heart leapt. If nothing else, at least he was Kip again. He had not quite realized how much he had come to treasure hearing that name, a familiar, affectionate name, from his Radiancy’s lips.

And not just his Radiancy’s, he recalled suddenly, and immediately had to catch himself before he gave in to the urge to laugh. One would have thought that nothing whatsoever could possibly make him forget, for even a moment, that the Last Emperor of Astandalas was in fact Fitzroy Angursell, but perhaps he could be excused; it was not as though he got ambushed by the Last Emperor being in love with him every day, either!

He cleared his throat. “My lord, I’m not here to interrogate you, and don’t wish to compel you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable saying. I believe Rhodin updated you on our findings, my lord? As long as I keep out of your sight and on this side of the room, we should be safe.” He paused, took a deep breath, and rushed on. “However, I believe that would make examining me and the spell in more detail more difficult. Having already been informed of your… fondness for me…”

He was interrupted by an unexpected low laugh, almost a chortle. “That is certainly one way to put it!”

“Just so, my lord,” Cliopher admitted, his face heating up. He couldn’t bring himself to correct his words; despite everything, it felt far too presumptuous to casually refer to his lord being in love with him. “As I was saying, I can see one other matter that might cause you to hesitate investigating this enchantment up close: your name, the name you named yourself.” 

The silence acquired a new, vulnerable quality, a sort of stillness even more breathless than before.

“I think it only fair that I clarify that I believe I already know that name,” Cliopher continued, working hard to keep his voice calm and measured. His heart was beating wildly. “Which is to say that I believe… I believe that before you were Emperor Artorin Damara, you were Fitzroy Angursell.”

He heard an indrawn breath, sharp and shaky, and held his ground. He had never even imagined it before (how had he missed it?) but he was certain, now. 

Slowly, his Radiancy reached out a hand and pulled the curtains aside. He was sitting on the edge of the bed much as Cliopher had imagined, hugging his knees to his chest. What he hadn’t imagined was his expression, wide-eyed and stunned and achingly… terrified, and yet hopeful.

“Oh, my lord,” Cliopher blurted out over the sound of his own heart breaking in his chest, “My Tor. My Fitzroy.”

At each name, each endearment, his Radiancy – no, Fitzroy, Fitzroy Angursell – shuddered, a jolt shivering through him from bare head to ringed toes, his eyes growing wider and brighter. He was still wearing only the one-sleeved tunic over which Conju had been wrapping the forgotten ahalo cloth, and looked strangely naked so half-dressed, in a way he hadn’t when he had walked into the sea, shedding his clothes across the beach as he went. He had kicked off his sandals before curling up on the bed, and his bare feet, adorned only by shimmering golden nailpolish, three toe rings and a single anklet, gold inset with black opals, looked vulnerable and astonishingly human as he sat there with his toes curling uncertainly around the edge of the bed.

“You knew,” his Radiancy whispered. “I thought perhaps you did, but never… Never quite found the courage to ask. All that humming…”

“Of which,” Cliopher confessed, embarrassed, “I have only been made aware today, I’m afraid. Looking back, I had all the pieces, but not the whole picture. No, I found out today, from Ludvic. Conju and Rhodin were most surprised by the news.”

His Radiancy blinked. “Ludvic,” he said blankly. “Ludvic told you? How did he know? How long has he known?”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No! I didn’t think anyone – unless perhaps you—”

Cliopher offered him a rueful smile, which earned him a small, startled grin in return. “Alas, I’m not a secret conspirator, only a great enthusiast for your poetry. Enough of one that I’ve been humming it back to you for…” He balked at trying to settle on a time; half his life, certainly.

“... For all the years my world has had colors, and sounds, and scents,” his Radiancy (Fitzroy, Fitzroy) murmured, eyes on his knees, “none of which it had before you walked into my study and saved me.”

This benediction floored Cliopher as surely as any love confession his – his Fitzroy could have feared, and left him momentarily speechless, awash with the warm glow of the praise. At length he managed to battle his wide smile under control and clear his throat enough to say, “Well, this is another matter I can’t wait to discuss in much more detail when this is over, but for now, I hope this will convince you that it is safe to work with me to lift the enchantment, my lord. Seeing as these two secrets have already been spilled, and I am already familiar with most state secrets you know.”

His Radiancy glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why, Kip, surely you can’t imagine me so boring that I only possess two secrets!”

Oh, what a challenge! Cliopher found that a wide smile, almost a grin – an expression as inappropriate before the Glorious One as it was unexpected and uncontainable – was rising in response, and his own voice sounded astoundingly flippant in his ears as he threw it back, “Only two that could cause you to hide in the Imperial Bedchamber rather than work with me, I hope!”

Fitzroy Angursell – oh, definitely Fitzroy, now – stared at him for a brief moment, golden eyes molten, and whispered, “Damn it, Kip, you and your challenge songs. And I can’t even be annoyed about it because quite literally everything you do delights me, and I can’t stomach the thought of you being upset!” He heaved an explosive sigh and unfurled himself to stand up, tall and regal for all that he was still barefoot and barely dressed by court terms. “Very well, my impossible lord chancellor! We had better find a way to lift this spell before your good view of me takes irreparable damage.”

“I can’t imagine anything that might have that effect, my lord,” Cliopher replied earnestly.

His Radiancy gave him a hooded glance. “I do wish you would call me by my name, Kip. Particularly now that you know it.” He paused, his face going slack with dismay, and he turned partly away from Cliopher to hide his face. “Oh no – only if you wish, of course, I didn't mean to – this is not a formal request, or a – a command, and obviously only in private, I don’t want you to get in trouble with—” He trailed off, blinking rapidly at a spot somewhere on the wall beside Cliopher. “Fuck,” he whispered. “This is exactly the sort of thing I was trying to avoid.”

The despair in his voice, such a sharp contrast to the gleeful challenge of only a moment before, smote Cliopher. Responding to an unconscious need, he had taken two steps closer, his arms raised, before he considered that approaching him as though for an embrace could only heighten his Radiancy’s distress at this point.

“My lord,” he said, and upon seeing his Radiancy flinch, quickly corrected, “Fitzroy. Please, don’t be afraid.”

His heart twisted in his chest at the rightness of those words; had he only earlier this day thought that he had never imagined that the Lord of the Rising Stars could be afraid of anything? And yet – and yet…

His licked his lips, eyes on the statue-still form of his lord, the frozen stare aimed away from Cliopher, and forged on, “This is – you’re not asking anything I don’t already wish to do.” He waited until his – Fitzroy’s eyes flicked briefly to him again, his expression cautious but attentive. “You will have to forgive me, though. I’ve only known for less than an hour, so I’ll be bound to slip.”

“Of course,” his Radiancy replied faintly, turning back to Cliopher but not quite meeting his eyes. “I – of course. I don’t mean to be inconvenient.”

“On the contrary,” Cliopher returned, “I would think it most convenient if you were to help me be rid of this spell, so that we can talk about everything without this damned nuisance.” He almost cringed at how plaintive the words sounded, at how familiarly he was addressing his Radiancy, but after a startled blink, he was graced with a small, pleased smile, and it was alright after all. Welcomed, even.

(But it was a damned nuisance to have to consider a difficult enchantment when they could have talked about Fitzroy Angursell. What had happened? How had he disappeared and ended up on the throne? What had he meant by that disputed passage in Aurora, in which Tenebra had eaten a poisoned apple meant for the titular princess – had Tenebra known it was poisoned? What exactly had happened at the customs house of Ulstin-le-Grand? Where did he find his inspiration? What was Jullanar of the Sea like? Had he written anything new since his disappearance? What could he possibly see in plain, boring Cliopher, bureaucrat of bureaucrats?)

“The removal of one damned nuisance, then, coming right up,” said his lord, his friend, his improbable rebel poet in the guise of an emperor, and with a grand, old-fashioned bow – quite outdated, but then it must have been a very long time since Fitzroy Angursell had had the occasion to bow to anyone – indicated that Cliopher should take a seat at the set of comfortable chairs arranged around a small coffee table.

Cliopher sat, briefly reflecting that he had never seen anyone use this set, plainly meant more for decoration than for any actual guests intimate enough to be invited to share a cup of coffee in the Imperial Bedchamber itself. His Radiancy padded over to him on bare feet, already incongruous in this blank, sterile, luxuriously beautiful space, visibly no longer quite the Sun-on-Earth as if naming him had somehow freed a part of him previously locked away. He paused in front of Cliopher, golden eyes lambent in the dimly lit room, and eyed him with a serious expression.

“You are correct in assuming that it is much easier to investigate this close by,” he said, “but this will mean that I will feel inclined to share a number of – not necessarily secrets but… thoughts I would otherwise keep quiet – with you, such as that I find your eyes very beautiful and am far too pleased that our current predicament has me ideally placed to admire them at much more length than I would usually think polite.” He paused, blinked, and made a face. “A prime example, right there.”

“Oh,” said Cliopher, unaccountably breathless. He was finding it difficult to look away from his lord’s eyes, himself.

“I hope you’re not offended,” his Radiancy said helplessly, and Cliopher shook his head mutely. “Before I investigate any further, I would like you to promise that if at any point my spontaneous confessions become too much or make you feel at all uncomfortable, you will say so, and we will find other ways to continue. Can you promise that, Kip?”

“After the day I’ve had, my lord,” Cliopher replied dryly, “I doubt anything can shock me!”

Chapter Text

Part 3

Cliopher’s attempt to reassure his lord that nothing could shock him today was met with a hollow bark of laughter tinged with hysteria that he found just a trifle unfair. He had been shocked, astounded, jolted, dumbfounded and frankly gobsmacked far too many times today; surely it was not unreasonable to imagine that he had reached his limit and could now take even the most astonishing revelations in stride.

Unaware of his private musings, his Radiancy rubbed a hand across his eyes in a gesture that was achingly normal and, well, mortal. He took a moment to gather himself, and then with a deep breath said, a little shakily, “Oh, I suppose we will see about that. Very well, Kip. I am going to take a closer look at the enchantment and your protections and ask you some questions.”

He sat on the chair opposite to Cliopher, closed his eyes for a moment, and raised his hands, palms angled toward Cliopher. His fingers moved gently, as if prodding an invisible shield floating around Cliopher, an arm’s length from his skin; Cliopher steadied his own breathing and tried not to be so conscious of how close to each other they were, alone in this room. 

When his Radiancy opened his eyes again, they were sunrise-bright with magic. “When did you first notice the effects?”

Responding automatically to the authority of the voice of his beloved lord and friend, Cliopher replied promptly, “This morning, when Franzel criticized my favorite couch.”

“It is a very threadbare couch, and the fabric looks like it was fashionable when my great-aunt was young,” his Radiancy observed, then grimaced and added ruefully, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to say that; I know you like it, and that’s what matters.” He gave Cliopher an apologetic smile; between them, the air flickered, briefly a glimmering yellow. “Did you meet anyone before Franzel? What was the last thing you ate before noticing the enchantment?”

“Franzel was the first person I met today, and the last thing I ate before meeting him was…” Cliopher considered. “Well, there was the luncheon with the Princes yesterday, but you were there.”

His Radiancy’s hands stilled in the air, and magic flickered again, either the protective spells or the truth spell briefly visible once more. “You didn’t eat anything between that and this morning?” He sounded incredulous.

Cliopher shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I meant to, of course, but by the time I was finished with the internal audit report from the Ministry of Trade, it was so late that the cafeteria was already closed, and…”

“You have a household! Including, I feel I need to add, a cook!”

“... Everyone else was already asleep,” Cliopher finished lamely. “I did, um, Shoänie had brought me some chocolate and little pastries at some point, I believe I ate some of those before going to bed?”

“That sounds like a question,” his Radiancy lamented. “My dear Kip, sometimes I truly despair of your perfect inability to look after yourself! How does a man who sails alone across the Wide Seas in a ship of his own hands’ making, surviving the long journey by his wits and strength and sheer magnificence, forget to eat and sleep in a palace?”

“Well,” Cliopher offered, not liking the look of genuine dismay on his lord’s face and deciding that he dared to offer a small joke in an effort to cheer him, “in my defense, there were no audit reports to read on my voyage, so I had to occupy myself somehow.”

That startled a huff of laughter out of his Radiancy. The air around Cliopher sparkled purple and golden, and then his lord was shaking his head and resuming his inspection, glowing eyes focused on the space between them.

“I just wish you’d take better care of yourself,” he remarked as he worked. “I truly don't know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Something in his voice, or perhaps in the furtive glance he darted at Cliopher’s face before lowering his eyes to his hands again, forestalled the “You would be fine” Cliopher had been about to say. Oh, he knew that his friends, his Radiancy’s friends, would look after their lord, wouldn’t leave him alone, but—

He had a feeling that this was emphatically not what his Radiancy had meant, so instead he said, gently, “I’m not going anywhere, my lo– Fitzroy. If it distresses you so much, I’ll endeavor to take better care of myself.”

Another flick of the golden eyes, briefly meeting his own, and a soft, wry little smile turned back to the swirling magic between them. Cliopher thought he heard his lord mutter something that sounded like “Oh yes? Perhaps the way you did when you insisted on coming back to work after your bonebreak fever?”, but it was so low that he must have heard incorrectly, as he had never mentioned his unfortunate encounter with the illness to his lord, and in any case his Radiancy had clearly not been talking to him.

For a moment they worked in silence – well, his Radiancy did, while Cliopher tried to sit still and felt useless – before his Radiancy hummed under his breath, flicked his fingers, and the air flared briefly a glowing green around Cliopher. His Radiancy raised a brow. “This is some creative spellwork, combining elements of old Astandalan truth spells – of a variety that I believe were used to interrogate Astandalan nobles who were too well-placed to merit a trip to the dungeons – and bits and pieces from several other traditions to make the schooled magic of the original spell work properly even now. It’s not hybrid the way my work is, it’s much more… patchwork, shall we say… but certainly inventive.” He glanced up at Cliopher. “The presence of a base component used almost exclusively among Astandalan nobility indicates that the source is someone with familiarity with or access to pre-Fall court magic. Has anyone tried to approach you with questions today? The one who enchanted you must have expected to benefit from it.”

Unable to think of any one example, Cliopher started recounting the bewildering progress of his day from Tully’s schedule-related mutiny to the moment he had first come to see his Radiancy. His Radiancy quizzed him on how the people he had talked with had looked – whether anyone had seemed particularly surprised to find themselves spouting truths, or disgruntled at finding Cliopher as elusive as usual. He did this while airing his personal opinions of every noble, official, minister and prince Cliopher mentioned, which soon had Cliopher shaking with laughter.

“Odious man,” was the judgment on the Minister of Agriculture.

“She’s charming but I wish she would fire her costumier already, I’m going to lose my bet with Lady Ylette if she doesn’t,” was the despairing comment on Lady Maybeth, who ran a youth program for courtiers interested in volunteering at the Indrogan Estates.

“By the stars, what an idiot!” came the verdict on the Prince of Nijan.

The Prince of Amboloyo received a more favorable review and a cryptic “Well, obviously,” upon the tale of his unexpected charge to Cliopher’s defense, but Princess Oriana, quite surprisingly, was met with his Radiancy surging to his feet with a thunderous “What? She truly said that?”

Cliopher blinked up at him, abruptly called back to the situation at hand (and already missing the easy camaraderie of exchanging stories and jokes, alone with his lord – Fitzroy, he suddenly recalled – roaring with side-splitting laughter at Fitzroy Angursell imitating the droning voice of the Minister of Trade or his flippant commentary on Lord an Kaarna’s recent string of failures at the dance of courts, observed from the throne).

“Yes, she did,” he replied, bemused. “Ludvic said he would investigate further as soon as all this,” he waved a hand to gesture at the air between them, “was cleared.”

A moment passed, the air heavy with static, with the sense of an oncoming storm, with barely contained power. Cliopher found himself holding his breath; and then, with a blink, his Radiancy moved his head sharply, looked away from Cliopher and visibly let go of the storm. With a shudder and a ragged sigh, he sank back into his chair, fists still clenched, eyes now glittering with anger rather than the wrath of a great mage.

“That fool of a woman,” he growled. Cliopher resolutely ignored the way his heart leapt at the low sound. His Radiancy closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath to calm himself down, before he turned to give Cliopher a small, grim smile. “I see that we will have to deal with her soon – if, indeed, she is not the one behind all this. I would not put it past her. What else happened in the meeting?”

Mind still reeling over the suggestion that Princess Oriana – ridiculous, tittering Oriana, who had not two thoughts to rub against each other in her head at one time, unless one concerned her wardrobe and the other her entertainment – could have engineered this, Cliopher replied carelessly, “Alas, nothing of importance, my lord. The Princess of Xiputl suggested that you move into my rooms and my bed, seeing as you refuse to use the one meant for the Emperor, and I judged that a good moment to end the meeting.”

His Radiancy, who had just been shaking out his hands and stretching them out as if to continue examining Cliopher’s protections, froze. “I bed – beg your pardon?” he stammered.

“That’s when I thought it best to let you know that something unusual was going on, my lord,” Cliopher finished, daring to flash a smile up at him.

“Oh, indeed!” his Radiancy said faintly. For a moment, he swayed where he stood, looking quite as if a strong breeze might knock him over, before he shook himself like a cat and blinked down at Cliopher, still seated. “Well. Well. We have no hard proof, but I think it likely that enchanting you was planned by one of the nobles or officials you met today – not ruling out the Council of Princes, though I should think my great-aunt would have known better than to risk being anywhere near you had she known of a truth spell plot of any sort. Have you relayed all this to Ludvic or Rhodin?”

Cliopher flushed. “Ah. No, I’m afraid we were busy talking about… other things, my lord.”

“Such as my undying devotion for you and the merits of my poetry,” his Radiancy offered dryly. Cliopher felt his flush deepen, which earned him a small smirk. “Well, I think at this point we can send a page to Ludvic and Rhodin with all the information you’ve just told me, so that they can resume their investigation while we wrestle with the spell itself.”

Nodding, Cliopher got up and went to the door, feeling a strange ripple pass through his body as he stepped to the threshold and outside the Wall of Silence. Elish and Varro turned to look at him curiously as he opened the doors and peered out, and Varro fetched one of the young pages waiting for messages in the next anteroom. The page – the one with a ring for her girlfriend in the kitchens – listened attentively as Cliopher relayed his story as clearly and concisely as he could, then repeated the details back to him to confirm that she had memorized everything.

“That is all,” Cliopher told her, and she nodded and started away. “Oh – uh, good luck tonight!” he called after her, and she flashed a brilliant smile at him over her shoulder before she disappeared.

“Can we send for anything else, my lords?” Elish asked, a little too brightly. “Scented candles for the big moment, perhaps?”

“For the what?” Cliopher gaped.

“For the—”

“Elish,” Varro admonished his partner, “you’re forgetting about the taboos! This is not one of your stories, they don’t just magically disappear!”

Elish looked mutinous. “Well, not everything requires direct touch, you remember the one Pikabe wrote after the fire dance, it started with—”

While Cliopher had been still staring at them in bewilderment, his Radiancy had padded over to the door to stand beside Cliopher and was now leaning over his shoulder to peer at the young guards. “What’s this?” he asked mildly.

“Oh, just something of a hobby, my lord,” Elish explained cheerfully. “Commander Omo has impressed upon us that the Imperial Guard is expected to be cultured, so we have had a little literary circle meeting weekly for some years, my lord, in which we occasionally share and read out loud bits of our own writing. A while back, Pikabe was most inspired by the greater fire dance you performed, your Excellency.” He beamed at Cliopher.

Cliopher blinked and exchanged a glance with his Radiancy. “Well, that’s – I’m happy to hear that, but I don’t quite… How does that have anything to do with the taboos?”

Varro shook his head, but he was smiling a little. “Well, Pikabe posited that surely dancing over burning coals for a full hour qualified as purification by fire,” he explained, “which formed the basis of his argument for why the taboos no longer applied to you, my lord.”

Baffled, Cliopher looked from the young guards to his Radiancy and back again. “Well, that is an interesting theory, and this sounds like an inspired essay – does Pikabe have some magic, then? Has he thought to present it to a mage of—”

“Oh,” his Radiancy said, abruptly, going very still beside Cliopher. “Kip. No, I don’t think it was an essay on magical theory. I. Uh.” He was very wide-eyed when Cliopher turned to look at him, something in his expression suggesting that a fairer complexion might have shown him blushing. The guards eyed their lord’s face with identical looks of delighted fascination. “Ah, no candles, thank you, Elish. Just the – just the message for Commander Omo, thank you. We should. Um. We really need to lift this enchantment. Farewell!”

And to Cliopher’s surprise, he reached around Cliopher and slammed the double doors shut.

“‘Farewell’?” his Radiancy muttered to himself in tones of incredulous dismay. “Really, Kip, I seem to have entirely forgotten how to behave around other humans when not firmly ensconced in the trappings of the Emperor… Has your entire day been like this?”

“Oh, very much,” Cliopher admitted, still confused. “And there is no need to worry, we’ll have plenty of time to practice before your quest, my lord— Fitzroy. I’m not sure what that was about, though, so perhaps I’m a little rusty on human behavior myself.”

The look his Radiancy turned on him was at first startled, then warm with fond amusement. “Oh, Kip. No, I think you’re not rusty, just uniquely you.” He paused, biting his lip, and seemed to consider for a moment before judging it safe to continue. “I believe Pikabe’s theory was based not so much on academic interest, but on, ah, imagining a situation that might see us safely, hm, engaged in an assignation of… romantic and sexual nature.”

What. What.

“He wrote a story about us having sex?”

His Radiancy winced at his incredulous tone. “I dare say, from the context, that he’s not the only one.”

“Oh. Oh.” Mind reeling, Cliopher staggered back to the coffee table and flopped into his chair with rather less grace than he had intended, his knees folding halfway through sitting down. “My stars. Goodness.”

His Radiancy followed, holding himself in a strangely careful and still manner as he lowered himself in his chair, his face inscrutable as he eyed Cliopher. “Does that… distress you?”

For at least the second time today, Cliopher found a giggle with a delirious edge to it bubbling to the surface. “I’m not quite sure how to feel!” He flashed his Radiancy a rueful smile, caught the look in his eyes – concerned, terrified, so dreadfully resigned, already steeling for a blow – and suddenly recalled, once again, that this was not just his Radiancy sitting before him. That unlike Artorin Damara, Fitzroy Angursell had once been somewhat famous for his escapades as a lover. That neither Artorin nor Fitzroy had had any opportunity to find joy and comfort in – in anyone’s touch for a thousand years.

That for most people, “in love” was, if not quite synonymous with, then at least closely tied to…

He said, gently, “No, I’m not distressed. But I can’t pretend that the thought has ever crossed my mind, before.” He studied his Radiancy’s – Fitzroy’s – face, noted the minute flinch that shivered across it as he spoke. “It has… has it… crossed yours?”

His Radiancy stared at him, his beautiful golden eyes wide with surprise, then bright with challenge, and too late Cliopher realized that he had forgotten about the enchantment, that he had asked a question.

“Has it, my Lord Mdang?” his Radiancy said, his voice dropping even lower and deeper than usual. Cliopher shifted, suddenly feeling unaccountably restless under his lord’s heavy gaze. “You really have to ask? Do you not know that I have been dreaming of being allowed another vacation, just so we could go swimming again, and I could see you naked once more? That when I gave the order to grant you access to my person at any time, I was very particular about how I phrased it, for all that it was nothing but a silly indulgence with the taboos still intact? Do you know that when you honored me by dancing the fire before me, I thought I just might burst into flames myself with the – the need to – that after you had finished, I had to run back to the Imperial Apartments and my private study, or that I had to request that Conju bring me a fresh set of robes because I accidentally incinerated the ones I was wearing in my haste to – to touch myself?”

His breath hitched on the last admission, but then, so did Cliopher’s. The weight of his Radiancy’s eyes, now a deep amber, was intoxicating on him, and the air felt – charged, humming with something that wasn’t magic but felt similar to it. It was difficult to breathe through the shock, through the amber settling thickly around him, through the entirely unexpected spike of – of desire, sparked by the imagery summoned by his Radiancy’s (by his Fitzroy’s) words.

His Radiancy swallowed. “Say something,” he implored, and Cliopher saw that he was trembling, the challenge draining from his eyes and horror creeping in. He was only seconds away from withdrawing again in disgust at himself, at saying precisely what he had been afraid he would say, once compelled by the enchantment. 

Perhaps Cliopher hadn’t had time to consider what it meant that his lord was in love with him, or how his own feelings for his beloved lord mapped onto the now altered landscape of their relationship. Certainly he had not had time to examine how he felt about the idea of physical intimacy with his lord, or the wholly unforeseen wave of passion that had just washed over him.

But he didn’t need to have time to sit and consider how he felt about his lord, his Tor, his Fitzroy, looking like this, with his beautiful eyes full of sorrow and regret.

He opened his mouth to put that into words, somehow, but what came out was, “I really hate the taboos right now.”

His Radiancy blinked. Cliopher blinked back.

“I would very much like to hold you, now,” he tried to explain.

“You would?” His Radiancy’s – Fitzroy’s – voice was small.

That, at last, was more than Cliopher could stand. He surged up, strode to the Imperial Bed, took hold of the coverlet, and spent an embarrassingly long moment struggling to pull it off the bed. The bed was huge, the coverlet was large enough to drape across it and fall in a graceful cascade on both sides, which meant that there was much more of it than he had expected, and it was really very heavy. His mission finally accomplished, he turned to drag the swathes of pure white cloth to the coffee table, careful not to step on the edges trailing on the floor, and finally nearly threw it on his Radiancy, who was looking at him with an expression of mingled relief and mischievous delight at his misconduct with the imperial bedsheets.

“Conju will have your head,” he murmured with a small, sweet smile as Cliopher took hold of the coverlet and with great sweeping motions wrapped him in it as securely as he could.

“Conju is the one who told me you’re in love with me, my lord, and he would not let me come here before he had tidied me up, lest you confess your ardent admiration to a scruffy bureaucrat with uncombed hair. I think he’s willing to sacrifice a blanket, just this once,” Cliopher informed him and, satisfied with his work, kneeled on the floor (and a great deal of the coverlet) between his Radiancy’s knees, wrapped his arms around his lord in his white cocoon, and pulled him against his chest.

For all that this had obviously been his goal (at least he thought he had been very obvious about it!) this seemed to catch his Radiancy off his guard, for when Cliopher pulled him forward, he made a small startled sound and tumbled out of the chair. This resulted in him sprawled across Cliopher’s lap in a most unemperorlike manner, long limbs tangled in the white fabric and one shocked golden eye peering at him from between the layers wrapped around his head.

With all the panache instilled in him over the course of this absurd day (and supposing that he was at last truly immune to being bowled over by every new event), Cliopher simply held him close, one arm around his lord's narrow waist and the other coming up to support him behind his shoulders. The touch sent a tremor shivering through his Radiancy’s body, and Cliopher could only try to hold him through it as he drew himself into almost a defensive ball, curling up small in Cliopher’s arms.

“Fitzroy. My lord.” He paused at the rapid blinking of that single bright eye, smiled and started to rub a soothing circle against the small of his Radiancy’s back. “Today has certainly been a day of revelations, but I hope that my love for you isn’t one of them. In fact, I should think that my love and my admiration and respect for you have long been facts you have been able to take as certain and unwavering.”

“I would never take you for granted,” came the muffled protest from the cocoon, one lion eye indignant.

“You haven’t, my lord,” Cliopher assured him with warm amusement, only distantly aware that not so long ago it would not have occurred to him in his wildest dreams to be warmly amused at his lord. Or to hold him like this, curled up in his arms. Or to— By the gods, it had certainly never occurred to him to consider, let alone discuss, sex with his Radiancy. “Although you could have; I’m not going anywhere.”

His Radiancy, Fitzroy (and oh, he was achingly Fitzroy, now, the inner man delicately moving the edge of the fabric cocoon with his long fingers to be able to look at Cliopher with both eyes) looked concerned as he studied Cliopher’s face, searching for the minutest sign that he was being indulged, obeyed beyond reason. “Are you certain I haven’t made you uncomfortable?”

“You have made me very stunned,” Cliopher allowed. “But not uncomfortable, or upset, or distressed. And I will wish to discuss everything in much more detail, once this is all over with.”

“Everything?” The question emerged in a small voice, but there was a mischievous edge to it, almost a challenge.

“Everything,” Cliopher replied firmly. “I was not being coy when I said the thought had not crossed my mind, but now it has, and I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Up to and including how and when you would like me to enjoy my access to your person, my– Fitzroy.”

The bundle of blankets and Lord of Zunidh in his arms went very still, and then let out a small “Oh”. Cliopher was close enough to hear his Radiancy’s breath catch, to see the luminous yellow of his eyes become dark amber. Bemused and fascinated, Cliopher watched his face, hooded by the white coverlet, so incredibly mobile and lively without the mask of serenity, work through delight, despair and desire in quick succession, saw him visibly fight his instinct to blurt out whatever was in his heart. Realizing his mistake too late, Cliopher had just opened his mouth to stall whatever confession was about to emerge, when his Radiancy whispered, “I wish I could always be your Fitzroy.”

Wholly forgetting what he had been about to say, Cliopher stared at him. “You – you do?”

There was a hollow sort of echo to the soft chuckle his – his Fitzroy let out at that. “Goodness, my dear Kip, I thought you’d already been told that I’m completely smitten with you! You say that as if I didn’t fall madly in love with you the moment you walked into my study, looked me in the eyes, corrected my pronunciation, and joked with me.” He eyed Cliopher, the mixed emotions of fondness and guilt giving way to curiosity and astonishment. “Is… is that truly news to you?

Cliopher opened his mouth, found no words, and ended up closing his mouth and nodding in stunned silence.

It was his Radiancy’s turn to open and close his mouth in surprise before shaking his head with an expression of fond exasperation in his eyes. “You never fail to astonish me, my Lord Mdang,” he said, his voice soft with wonder. “I can see that we have much to talk about, and I have some things to explain to you, and if I attempt to do so now, I may find myself explaining in rather more detail than I think wise.” 

He glanced down, his gaze settling on Cliopher’s arm circling around his waist. For a fleeting moment, he looked almost embarrassed, an unthinkable expression on the face of the Sun-on-Earth. “In any case, this is all… pure fantasy, of course, as long as the taboos hold, and as long as...” He looked at Cliopher, his expression suddenly somber. “Kip. My dear Kip. I’m glad I haven’t made you uncomfortable with my avalanche of truths, but you must understand why I have kept them to myself so far. The power I hold over you is – simply too vast. I never intended to say anything because I can’t see my way around the obligations and structures of our relative positions, around the fact that… I can’t imagine a way any of this could be, as long as I am the Emperor and the Lord of Zunidh.”

Cliopher considered but refrained from saying out loud that his Radiancy making this point while still curled up in his arms, just as clearly in desperate need of being held as he had been in his private study after Domina Black’s visit, added an entirely new layer to the topic of who held power over whom. That was, he felt, a consideration for another day. Instead, he raised a sardonic brow. “What, then, should we wait until you are a wandering adventurer on your quest and I the Viceroy of Zunidh?” A startled, abashed silence was all the response he received, before he quickly corrected himself, “No, don't answer, I keep forgetting that I'm supposed to avoid asking questions. We’ll just add it to the list of things we need to discuss in depth a little later.”

He was close enough to see the quick flash of surprise at being told “No, don’t” flit across his Radiancy’s face, immediately followed by a faint smile that tried to cover up relief with impishness. “As you wish, my Lord Mdang,” he murmured demurely, before sighing a little. “And to that end, I suppose we must redouble our efforts to rid you of this enchantment. I suspect even my unexpectedly romantically inclined guards will begin to worry if we do not emerge soon.”

He clutched at his blanket and slid off Cliopher’s lap to fold himself awkwardly on the floor beside him, still bundled in the massive white coverlet, which looped around him several times, covered his head like a large hood, and pooled in his lap and on the floor. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then wrapped his hands more securely in the fabric, and held out his thickly wrapped hands. “Shall we try a more direct approach? If I hold your hand, perhaps I can slip under the enchantment.”

Already feeling strangely bereft without the solid warm weight of his lord (his friend, his impossible poet) in his arms, Cliopher reached out to grasp both of his Radiancy’s hands with a haste that might have felt unseemly if it hadn’t provoked a low huff of laughter from his lord. With a smile and a wink (a wink!) his Radiancy squeezed his hands as best he could through the thick layers of fabric, closed his eyes, and set to work, casually offering comments on his work in lieu of truths.

“Ah, this is an old spell, layered on you every morning for a hundred days and one as you made your obeisances. I'm pleased to see it holding so strong,” he murmured, and “hmm, this enchantment has become redundant, perhaps it should be replaced,” and “Oh, there's a crack here, when have you been targeted with a sleep curse?”

“I really can't say,” Cliopher admitted, as surprised as his Radiancy.

“Oh, Rhodin will know,” his lord muttered, frowning severely for a moment, “and hopefully also have a good reason for not informing me before. Ah, here's the truth spell – let me see, perhaps—”

A twist in the air, in Cliopher's stomach and vision, a brief and bizarre moment of certainty that he could smell ginger cakes, and a glimmer of green rippling in the air around him, and—

“There,” his Radiancy said with a satisfied expression, and opened his eyes, his irises still dancing with traces of magic. “I think that's it; at least the spell is no longer wrapped around you. Shall we test it? Ask me a question, and I will endeavor to lie.”

Blinking the afterimage of the green flash from his eyes, Cliopher asked the first thing he could think of. “What do you think we should do about the situation with the Nijani police force?”

His Radiancy paused, burst out in laughter, and doubled over Cliopher's hands, still clutched in his. He laughed long and hard, hiccuping and snorting and gasping with it, quite as he had cried in the private study: like a man who had not had a good laugh for a long, long time. Confused but pleased, Cliopher squeezed his coverlet-wrapped hands and tried not to feel overly proud of himself; after all, he had not earned that laughter with a witticism or a joke, unless by the great joke that had been his entire day.

“You have not answered, my– Fitzroy,” he chided his lord gently.

“So I have not,” his Radiancy snickered, shoulders still shaking and eyes sparkling with mirth when he recovered enough to sit up and grin at Cliopher. “Only you, my dear Kip. Very well, let me see… it is my sincere belief that we should do absolutely nothing about the Nijani police force, except perhaps organize a competition to design them new uniforms, possibly something in purple.”

He stopped, and for a moment they stared at each other over their still clasped hands, holding their breath and waiting for… something, for the spell to reassert itself. Minutes ticked by, and somewhere a quarter bell sang its cascading notes. When at last it started to look like nothing would happen, and his Radiancy did not seem to feel compelled to spill any more secrets to fill the silence, Cliopher found a relieved grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, mirrored on the beloved face opposite to him.

“Well, I am glad that is over with!” he exclaimed, holding his lord's hands more tightly for a moment. “And although I do hope that was indeed a lie, I must admit that there are times when I wish we really could just leave Nijan to its own devices.”

“Don't we all,” his Radiancy chuckled, squeezed Cliopher's hands back, and moved to let go and get up.

“Oh, don't,” Cliopher hurried to say, holding fast. “I like holding you, and we don't have to go just yet.”

Startled, his Radiancy let him pull him back to the floor, kneeling awkwardly in the puddle of imperial white. “You – you do?” he asked, sounding breathless and like he ached to just believe him, to lean into this unexpected display of affection. His golden eyes were incandescent, bright with something Cliopher had never before seen in them, and stunningly beautiful, and abruptly Cliopher needed to tell him that.

“I love your eyes, my lord. My Fitzroy,” he said helplessly. “They're so beautiful, especially now.” The emotion swelling in his chest squeezed his heart, and he squeezed his lord's hands in reflexive response, and suddenly remembered, “Oh, and your hands, too! I only wish we did not need the blanket, so I could see them.”

The wonder and delight on his beloved lord's face were quietly beginning to give way to an expression more baffled than pleased. Cliopher could not think why, when their hands fit together so well, like two sides of a shell, or would have if not for the bulky fabric. He proceeded to inform his Radiancy of this as well.

“Like a fanoa,” he said, “which is a word I think you may know because I've been informed that my nephew has been giving you language lessons, but there is a different meaning that Gaudy will not have mentioned, which is what I wish I could some day be to you, although in my heart I have considered you my fanoa for much longer than I have even known.” He trailed off, taken aback by his own flood of words and particularly the revelation at the end. “Oh,” he murmured. “I had not realized that.”

His Radiancy was staring at him over their clasped hands, eyes wide and wondering in a completely new way. “Kip,” he said slowly, a note of what Cliopher could only think of as amused despair creeping into his voice. “I think we may have a new problem.”

“Yes; we have a lot to talk about, such as our relationship, you being Fitzroy Angursell, Conju disliking your poetry, the security issue of the secret passage between our rooms, the—” And oh, he heard it now, that same odd urgency in his voice that had accompanied every secret he had been made privy to today, and he managed to rein in the words spilling from his mouth only by the sheer force of his dismay. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“Oh dear,” his Radiancy confirmed, squeezed his hands briefly and managed to pull himself to his feet by the chair beside them. He raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to look majestic even in the great cocoon of the blanket trailing on the floor, and extracted one hand from the folds to flick at the air and remove the Wall of Silence. “It looks like this enchantment is much more resilient than I imagined, and my attempt to lift it only allowed the spell to sneak past my protective magic, after all. I'm calling for refreshments and canceling our appointments for tomorrow as well; I think we will be here for a while.”

Cliopher nodded, sighed and slumped back against the coffee table. “Well,” he mused, “I suppose spending two days incapacitated in the Imperial Apartments is as good a way to test my contingency plans as any. I trust my people will perform well without me. Did you know Conju got me hired?”

“I rather thought I did.”

“No, Conju claims to have masterminded the whole thing.” Cliopher paused, considering the door as his Radiancy padded towards it to call for another page. “I suppose the guards will be happy, at least. If they found the Aōteketētana inspiring, I believe the two of us being sequestered in the Imperial Bedchamber to battle a spell that compels us to relate to each other our deepest, dearest secrets will also make for excellent fodder for their imagination.”

“Oh, indubitably,” his Radiancy said, turning to grin at him over his shoulder. “And even better, it has the virtue of being true.”