Page 11 of Stranger's Choice
“Five hells. Where is Tjalik when I need him?”
Green eyes went wide. “Tjalik. He must have taught you our language. And he didn’t tell the Emperor that you can understand.”
Five hells weren’t enough. If Auraelie, and therefore the Emperor, hadn’t been looking closely at Tjalik before, they would be now. Sebin still did not know if he even approved of Tjalik and his friends’ plans to overthrow the Emperor, but he did not want to be the reason imperial guards hunted them down. He hadn’t thought it would be an issue. He had plenty of experience at political maneuvering and dissembling. If anything, he had planned to distance himself from Tjalik to make sure that if the over-eager man betrayed himself, Sebin wouldn’t be implicated alongside him.
He understood Imperial. It took Auraelie a few seconds to process the implications. She reached a decision a heartbeat later.
“Promise not to touch me, and I won’t tell.” Auraelie couldn’t trust that Tjalik had explained the meaning of the veils to Prince Sebin. As evidenced by Marsone and Flenden’s conversation earlier, she couldn’t even trust that those who had grown up in Kalitalo would respect her veil now that the Emperor had assigned her to act as a personal servant.
Prince Sebin said something in his own language, then set off back the way they had come.
“Promise,” Auraelie called after him.
He didn’t stop walking. He said another brief burst of words in his own language—a curse by the sound of them. Then he turned his head and gave a single nod before whipping back forward.
Auraelie ran to take up her typical position two steps behind him. “Why pretend you can’t understand? Wouldn’t it be easier to talk to people yourself instead of relying on Tjalik?”
Sebin glared at her. He spoke slowly, his tone annoyed, much like someone explaining to a simpleton for the twelfth time. Probably telling her he couldn’t understand. Fine. He wanted to keep his secret, and that meant maintaining the act even when they were alone. It’s not like she wanted to have conversations with him, anyway.
For the rest of the day, Auraelie pretended nothing had changed. She didn’t speak to him, just fetched and carried. She noticed how often he lapsed into silence when other conversations were happening in his vicinity. It had never caught her attention before; he was so limited, having to speak through an interpreter, that his silences had always seemed natural lulls.
His eavesdropping did not seem useful. Unless all he cared about was hearing what the women said about him.
As the day progressed, though, Auraelie doubted the wisdom of the agreement she had made with the prince. She didn’t know enough about him to guess if his nod truly meant he had agreed. Or if he would uphold his end of the bargain. She knew that if the Emperor discovered she knew the prince understood Imperial and didn’t inform him, she would be in trouble. Not as much as if he discovered the prince’s immunity to her power, but still trouble.
If she kept her word and did not tell—and Prince Sebin therefore kept his to not touch her—she would be safe from the worst consequence of the Emperor discovering the prince’s immunity. But there would still be consequences. Punishments for hiding the truth. Hiding the truth of his facility with Imperial posed the same risk of punishment.
Perhaps she could keep her word, while ensuring that the secret came out? If she precipitated the discovery of the prince’s subterfuge, the Emperor might even reward her. Maybe he would relieve her from serving the prince as his attendant. That would lower the risk of her other secret coming out.
The decision was easier made than implemented. It turned out there were few opportunities to trick Prince Sebin into revealing he understood the language without simultaneously revealing she knew he understood. Tjalik was the biggest obstacle. If Auraelie said something to the prince, his interpreter was sure to overhear.
Auraelie shuffled a little closer to Prince Sebin, and Tjalik moved farther from the prince in reaction, maintaining the distance between them. Perhaps she could whisper low enough for the prince to hear and not Tjalik, now.
Her first attempt to trick the prince was pitiful. She casually asked him, quietly, if he’d like red wine. He, of course, didn’t respond. Nor did he react when she poured peach wine into his goblet. At least she had proven that she could whisper to him without Tjalik overhearing.
The next afternoon, he dismissed Tjalik after a long conversation in his own language and headed for the fountain path. Without his interpreter, he could do little more than nod at the courtiers he passed and exchange stilted greetings in the limited amount of Imperial he admitted to knowing so far. He seemed content to admire the water features hidden in an inner courtyard of the palace, but Auraelie understood that his true goal was to eavesdrop.
Even without Tjalik, the prince wouldn’t overhear much of interest. No one wanted to risk the Emperor’s Oracle reporting what she heard. But they didn’t care if she heard things of no interest to His Imperial Majesty.
She and Sebin listened to one woman sigh over his exotically pale looks to her friend.
Auraelie glanced over at him. His rose-gold hair was unusual, and his skin lighter than many, but he wouldn’t stand out in a crowd in Kalitalo. At least not as a stranger. The woman was right, though; the prince was an attractive man. He had eyes that shifted like the sea from green to blue, expressive lips, broad shoulders, and a build that had Auraelie occasionally disappointed that he had switched out of the fitted garments of his homeland and into the looser ones of hers. He also had the slightest hint of a satisfied smile on his face.
“Enjoying the compliments?” Auraelie whispered. “Though I suppose you are vain enough to expect them to say the same to your face.”
He didn’t engage. He didn’t so much as let his eyes flicker over at her, but she saw the effort it took him to suppress a chuckle.
She should have realized. After all her attempts to get dismissed, and Prince Sebin’s cool amusement over each one, Auraelie had never feared him becoming angry at her for trying to trick him. But it also hadn’t occurred to her that teasing him, trying to make him laugh, would be the easiest route. Hiding amusement was harder than other emotions for him, from what she had observed. And he didn’t mind jokes at his own expense.
Auraelie could work with that.
When they went in for supper, she grabbed two cushions. Tjalik had not made his reappearance yet, and she took advantage of the chance to address the prince without being observed. “Would you like the cushion stuffed with rocks, or the one filled with feathers?”
His lips twitched, but otherwise, the prince didn’t react. He pointed to the cushion she had held up when mentioning rocks. Not that there was actually a single rock in the cushion. Auraelie had removed the one she had used the previous morning before anyone else might accidentally sit on it and wonder where it had come from.
The interpreter arrived shortly after the prince sat, and Auraelie was reduced to her old tricks. This time she filled the prince’s plate with only the spiciest foods and let his wine run dry.
When he lifted the empty cup to his lips for the second time, she saw him considering her sidelong.
“Thirsty?” she whispered, letting her veil hide her smile.
He picked up the spiciest morsel on his plate, an extremely hot chili covered in a simple batter and fried, and popped the entire thing in his mouth. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and looked over at her directly, one eyebrow raised.
She didn’t care how little sleep she got, Auraelie was spending the entire night planning more ways to trick the prince into reacting. Forget about proving he understood Imperial, at this point she simply wanted to win their silent battle of wills.
