Jainan’s hands tightened around the fur bundle. He had brought it closer to his chest without realizing; he forced himself to hold it casually down by his side.
Kiem shoved his hands into his pockets again: a solid, unhappy shape against the landscape. “I get what you’re saying about the duty thing,” he said. “No, really. I’m shit at it and not exactly the pride of the family, but I get it. We’re born into this, and we have to do something to be worthy of it. But everything you do is about you needing to be unhappy.”
The cold ate into him like acid. You’re wrong, Jainan wanted to say, but he couldn’t say that to an Imperial Prince. He said distantly, “I apologize, Your Highness.” He saw Kiem flinch at the title and hated himself for using formality as a weapon, but did it anyway. “I would rather not talk about this. I request.” These were underhanded measures. He was an underhanded person.
Kiem recoiled, his hunched, unhappy posture giving way like a loosened spring. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Oh hell, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I don’t have any right. Forgive me.”
He had every right. But Jainan stood there for a short eternity with his reply caught between his teeth, grateful for that small mercy even as he knew he shouldn’t take advantage of it.
Movement caught his eye: a pair of fur-wrapped figures climbing up from the other end of the bridge. Every sense of danger he had flared, like someone laying their finger on an exposed nerve—he and Kiem were confronting each other, both as tense as unhappy cats. It looked like a public argument.
“Jainan?” Kiem said.
The last of Jainan’s anger drained away into distant dread. “People.” He didn’t need to say anything else.
Kiem gave him a look of bafflement, then turned and realization dawned. Jainan had already closed the gap, and he slipped his hand into the crook of Kiem’s elbow. The unwieldy bundle of coat sat incongruously under his other arm. He couldn’t speak in case they were overheard, but he tried to convey by the careful lightness of his touch that he knew he had crossed a line. He kept his expressionless gaze to the front as they passed the other walkers.
Kiem glanced over at the pair. “What do you think,” he asked under his breath, “can we sell it as performance art?”
It took a split second for Jainan to realize he was joking. Something terrifyingly like laughter welled up in him, in spite of the situation, in spite of everything. His hand tightened on Kiem’s arm. That was a mistake, because it apparently encouraged him.
“Dammit,” Kiem said, “we shouldn’t have stopped, we could have charged them for tickets.”
They’d been recognized. One of the figures raised a hand, changing their path so they cut across to Kiem and Jainan. “Kiem!” Their companion followed. “I thought you were at the embassy.”
“Vaile!” Kiem said, with jollity that must be forced. “We left a bit early. We’re just taking a walk. Seeing the city. That sort of thing. Who’s your friend?”
Prince Vaile gave them both a graceful bow of acknowledgment and introduced the man beside her as a colleague from Rtul, but Jainan was struggling so hard to think of some sort of explanation other than arguing in public that he didn’t catch the name. Kiem was doing the honors anyway, since apparently nothing would throw him off enough that he couldn’t find some small talk.
“… both look perishing cold, though,” Vaile said on the back of something else. She gave their thin indoor clothes and the coat under Jainan’s arm a quizzical look.
Jainan tensed, but Kiem was already talking. “It was a … dare,” he said. There was a pause. Kiem carried on to fill it. “You see, we didn’t get a honeymoon, so we have to make up for the excitement somehow.” Jainan choked. “You know, dares, bets, extreme sports … We’re going skydiving tomorrow.”
Jainan fought against the rising tide of inappropriate laughter. This must be what they meant by hysteria. His squeezed Kiem’s arm silently.
“Skydiving,” Vaile said, in the tone of one who doesn’t believe what she’s just heard.
Jainan interrupted before Kiem could commit them irrevocably. “It’s still under discussion,” he said firmly. “Skydiving is very unfashionable on Thea at the moment.”
That was an impulse he should probably have quelled. “Oh?” Vaile said.
This had apparently caught the interest of her Rtulian colleague, who leaned in. “I didn’t realize you had fashions in extreme sports. How fascinating. So what is fashionable on Thea right now?”
Jainan had never been able to sense Kiem’s stress or anger as he had Taam’s and had put that down to the newness of their marriage. But now, all of a sudden, he could feel Kiem’s huge, expectant glee beside him, and he blamed that for what he said next. “Bull wrestling.”
“Wrestling … bulls?” The man’s brow wrinkled. Kiem was overcome by a sudden fit of coughing, but Jainan kept his blandest expression on his face. “That sounds … Your Highness, are you all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Kiem said. “Getting a cold. Too many dares. Do excuse us, lots of planning to do.” He clapped Vaile on the shoulder, shook her companion’s hand vigorously, and made a swift escape with Jainan’s hand still clamped on his arm. By unspoken consensus they quickened their stride until they were over the bridge.
They neared the courtyard of the main palace entrance, where there was a scattering of people, and slowed down when they were definitely out of sight of the bridge. Jainan’s rapid heartbeats slowed as well, and with it the brief warmth, and they both remembered at the same time that they were in something like an argument.
They didn’t stop walking this time. The drone of traffic faded behind them as the sound-screens that protected the palace kicked in. “So,” Kiem said. “I’m going around the side entrance. If I remember right, then it’s closer to the staff buildings and Internal Security. Do you want to come?”
Jainan wavered. He thought about going back to their rooms and waiting dutifully while his future was decided for him. He thought about the crash data. He took a breath. “Yes,” he said. “I would like to come.”
CHAPTER 11
“You’re where?” Bel said through Kiem’s ear implant.
“Outside Internal Security’s offices, trying to get in,” Kiem said. He kicked his heels against the desk he was sitting on, caught Jainan’s involuntary glance, and stopped. They were deep in the palace’s staff buildings among a bustle of administrators and desks. Across a corridor, the guard they’d just talked to kept casting them uncomfortable looks. “They won’t even let me in without a meeting. How quickly can you set me up a meeting? I need the head person.”
“With the head of Internal Security? Not fast, their contact details aren’t even published internally.”
“Okay, give me their name and I’ll try and bluff it.”
“When I said contact details, that included their name,” Bel said. “Searching for it probably puts you on a watch list. I’ll do some digging.”
“Thanks. Message me if you get it,” Kiem said. He cut the call. Jainan had perched himself on the edge of a spare chair and was watching Kiem with the blank look that seemed to mean wariness. Kiem gave him what was meant to be a reassuring smile—there was no sign that it worked—and made another call. “Hey, uh, Roal. Yeah, it’s Kiem. Long time no see. Hey, quick question—you know when you moved jobs, was that to Internal Security? Great, I thought so.” He glanced around. The noise of the office probably covered him, but he lowered his voice anyway. “I need a favor. I need the name of your boss and the contact pin to their office.”
Jainan could definitely overhear the conversation. There was now a slight frown on his face. As Kiem finished the call, Jainan said, “Will that get them in trouble?”
“No,” Kiem said, “because I won’t say who I got it from.”
Jainan gave him a long, scrutinizing look, and Kiem started to wonder if he’d done something wrong, but all Jainan said was, “How do you know all these people?”
“Just … nor
mally,” Kiem said. “Everyone does, right?”
“No,” Jainan said. He fell in beside Kiem as they went back to Internal Security’s receptionist.
Kiem gave the receptionist his best smile. The security guard hovered by his shoulder. “Sorry, just got the details through from my aide. Chief Agent Rakal, please, and here’s the pin for their office.” He made a gesture that threw a tiny display from his wristband onto the desk. “I know we’re not on the list, but let them know I’m here, would you?”
“Your Highness—” the receptionist said, after exchanging uneasy glances with the security guard.
“Just—try the call, please,” Kiem said. “Tell them I was really obnoxious. Tell them I’m going to rearrange through General Tegnar if Agent Rakal won’t see me, and then I’ll bring the general to the meeting.” He didn’t like bringing her name into it, but he remembered Jainan’s resigned acceptance about having his communications cut off, and it was enough to stifle that faint concern. “This isn’t your problem, I know. Put me through to Agent Rakal and it won’t be.”
“I’ll just—I’ll just contact their office,” the receptionist said, after trading another glance with the guard. Kiem nodded thanks and wandered away a couple of steps to join Jainan.
“General Tegnar?” Jainan murmured. “Is that your mother?”
“The one and only,” Kiem said. Jainan gave him a sideways look, evidently trying to square the picture of a successful general with the observed reality of Kiem. “Really let’s try not to get her involved, she’s based off-planet anyway. I don’t think she knew Taam. It will take her at least a month to find out I used her name.” The receptionist was holding out a speaker. Kiem strode over and took it. “Hi!” he said. “Prince Kiem here to see you. It will only take a few minutes. I hope you’ve got a few minutes, because I’m going to be camping out here until you do.”
The voice at the other end was professionally noncommittal, but that seemed to do the trick. In a very short amount of time, a nervous-looking junior agent came out to usher them inside.
It wasn’t as exciting as Kiem had thought. Internal Security’s offices were like the administration areas outside, except slightly grayer and older-looking. Kiem’s wristband buzzed against his skin and went dead. He glanced sideways to check how Jainan was doing but he needn’t have worried: however agitated Jainan might have been on the walk back, now his face was clean of all expression and he was a model of grace and poise.
Then Kiem caught sight of an agent turning a corner ahead of them, and stopped dead.
“Your Highness?” the junior agent said.
“I know her,” Kiem said. “I met her in the gardens outside our rooms last week. I thought she was a security guard.”
“I can’t comment on personnel, Your Highness,” the junior agent said apologetically. “This way, if you please?” While Kiem was still trying to work out how to ask Internal Security if they were spying on him, she brought them to a door at the end of the corridor, scanned her bios—retina and hand movement—and gestured them through into Agent Rakal’s office.
The office was aggressively nondescript, as shabby as the rest of the quarters. The only splash of color was the gold-framed portrait of the Emperor above the agent waiting behind the desk. They rose as Kiem and Jainan entered. “Your Highness.”
Chief Agent Rakal—that was who it must be—barely came up to Kiem’s shoulder. They were slightly built and trim in Internal Security’s black uniform, and their hair was half-braided and pulled back in a neat clip. Their neck and wrists were bare of any ornament marking gender.
They didn’t come out from behind the desk, which was probably a point of some kind; Kiem ignored it and leaned over to shake hands.
“Kiem,” he said. “You knew that, nice to meet you, this is Count Jainan, you may know him.” Your people definitely do, he nearly said, but for once managed to stop himself. He needed Rakal on their side to sort this all out.
“Your Highness,” Rakal said, short and sharp. “Your Grace. You gave the impression this was an emergency. What is it that needs my attention at two minutes’ notice?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. Thanks for seeing us,” Kiem said, in a disarming tone that notably failed to disarm Rakal. “A couple of things, actually. Can we sit down?” He nodded to the couple of chairs grouped informally around a low table for guests. It was an automatic move: things always went better if everyone felt more casual.
Rakal stared back at him impassively and said, “If you like.” They didn’t move.
Kiem scrambled for a response. “Right.”
Rakal waited, palms resting on the desk, and raised their eyebrows at the short silence.
Kiem only hit this sort of person occasionally, and it was abysmal luck that Rakal was one of them. Some people, he’d found, just didn’t like him. Most people he met for the first time were either friendly or they were wary and would warm up to him when they felt they had his measure. Every now and then, though, he came up against someone who looked straight into him and had nothing but contempt for what they saw. He was getting that feeling with Rakal. Usually Kiem could mark those people down and avoid them. Avoiding this conversation was not an option.
Jainan was still as a statue beside him. Kiem took a deep breath and said, “For a start, you could have told us the Auditor thinks Taam’s death was murder.”
“Who told you that?” Rakal said evenly.
“The Auditor, actually,” Kiem said, “at about the same time as he refused to instate both of us. Was it?”
“The matter is being dealt with,” Rakal said. “We have it in hand and the Emperor has been briefed. There is no current need for you to know the status of the investigation.”
Kiem paused. He had never been allowed near Internal Security before, let alone had the authority to press them for case details. “Fine,” he said. “All right. I’ll drop it—on one condition: you get your people to fix Jainan’s security clearance. There’s been some kind of error.”
“What kind of error?” Rakal asked.
Kiem felt the sudden onset of doubt. If this had been a mistake by some administrator deep in Internal Security’s hierarchy, they could probably have solved it in ten minutes with a quick message. “Your people revoked his clearance, months ago—Jainan, how long?”
“Two years,” Jainan said quietly.
“See, two y—what?”
Rakal gave Jainan a measuring look. “Naturally I am aware.”
Kiem looked at Jainan as well, still trying to process the thought of two years. Jainan was standing a step back, as if he’d resigned himself to having no influence in whatever was decided. Kiem felt a sick lurch of something—guilt, anger—and didn’t even try to suppress it. He leaned forward and put his own hands on the desk. “Fix this,” he said, hearing an unexpected edge in his own voice. “He can’t talk to his family. Fix it.”
“Prince Kiem,” Rakal said levelly. “Let me make one thing very clear: I won’t be drawn into melodramatics on security issues.” They stopped Kiem’s incredulous protest with a raised hand. “I am aware that Count Jainan has a level two flag on his communications. This means he was considered a potential risk for leaking classified material. As you must also know, a level two flag does not stop him from contacting whomever he wants to outside the palace. It only means we ask him to clear it with us in advance so we can monitor it.”
“That’s not true,” Kiem said. “He hasn’t had any contact at all.”
Jainan shifted beside him, but didn’t have time to say anything before Rakal raised their eyebrows and said, “Indeed? Then someone is lying to you.”
“I am not lying,” Jainan said, low and colorless. “I was discouraged from contact—I am sorry if I gave a false impression.” Jainan’s eyes flicked between Rakal and Kiem, and then went back to the desk. “I accept the security measures the palace sees fit to apply. I apologize for bothering you.”
It would not help to shout. Kiem forced himself to breat
he out and keep his voice under control. “It’s really not you who needs to apologize,” he said. “Agent Rakal. Your monitoring system isn’t bloody working, since your people have obviously just used it to hassle Jainan into cutting off contact. Which I’m sure made things much easier for them. Jainan is unhappy. The Thean Ambassador is unhappy. I am pissed off, and very few things piss me off. I want you to take that flag off his account.”
If Rakal hadn’t liked him before, now the hostility over the desk between them and Kiem was like something physical. “Your Highness,” Rakal said. “You cannot have a decision you don’t like changed just because you want it to change. I answer to the Emperor, not to every royal who wants to throw their weight around.”
Kiem recognized the sinking feeling of being backed into terrain where he couldn’t win. He switched tactics. “If you’d bothered to talk to Jainan, you might have realized you were barking up the wrong tree,” he said. “But you didn’t, did you? You just cut him out because he’s a foreigner. You didn’t even listen to him about the crash data.”
“What data?” Rakal said sharply.
“We got hold of the data you have on Taam’s crash,” Kiem said. “We think that log transcript came from a reference book. So either you have the wrong logs, or—”
Rakal turned straight to Jainan, clearly aware that Kiem wouldn’t understand an engineering log even if someone explained it to him in short words with a cheerful science animation for children. “Who gave you that data?” they said. “It should have been under a confidentiality seal.”
There was a horrible pause before Jainan said softly, “I’m not sure that’s relevant.”
“Someone a damn sight more helpful than you,” Kiem said. “Where are the real logs?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rakal inputted something on their wristband. “This is a serious breach of security. Count Jainan, I will need you to delete the material you have obtained and to allow us access to review your account.”
Winter's Orbit Page 15
