by Dan Ackerman
Rhys kept a companionable closeness as they walked, more than he’d ever shown before. Arden wondered if he meant it as an apology. It didn’t feel like one and he didn’t know if Rhys had anything to apologize for. It just felt friendly.
It felt like a good time for Arden to say, “I, uh. I wanted to propose something to you.”
Warily, the other man said, “What’s that?”
“You don’t actually have a job. I mean, especially now that the election is over. I know you’ve been acting in this advisory capacity for years now, but you’ve always just been listed as a floating worker.”
Rhys shrugged. “Keeps me on my toes.”
“Well. If you want it, there is an official job that you could have. My Chamberlain. Uh, my mother had a few on and off throughout her life. Especially when she got older.”
“That’s not…”
“It’s a position meant for a peer,” Arden confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not in the rules and even if it was, I can fucking change the rules, can’t I?”
“And if I say no?”
“I mean, you’ll hurt my feelings, first of all, and you won’t get a considerable pay raise, which is probably more important to you.”
Rhys’s mouth twisted.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just. I know…I know money matters to you in a way that it doesn’t matter to me. Water matters more to the fish on the floor than the one in the sea.”
“Is that another saying from an old movie?”
Arden shrugged. He didn’t know.
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course.” Arden had hoped for an enthusiastic acceptance, but Rhys tended to think about things before he agreed to them. Sensible of him.
Arden didn’t know what that was like, being sensible.
“Take as long as you need,” Arden added. Generously, he thought.
Rhys hesitated when they neared the Big Room. They could hear it before they saw it.
Arden paused when he paused. “What?”
“I really fucking hate these people.”
Arden smiled. He took Rhys’s hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “Well, I hate them too, and most of them aren’t very pleased with me, and they definitely all hate you, so you’re not alone in disliking your company tonight.”
“Arden, what are you doing?” asked a voice from behind him. “Who is that?”
Rhys yanked his hands back.
Arden turned around. “Hi, Zira. Alexander. You two headed inside?” Between the couple, he spotted a small girl of maybe six. Or possibly younger or older. Arden had no idea. She had to be less than eight or nine because they’d only been married that long. He should have known her age. “You three.”
“Lexira?” Zira prompted her daughter.
“Pleased to see you, Your Eminence.” The child gave a perfect little bow. She was a picture-perfect child: big eyes, a button nose, with her father’s full mouth and dark coloring, although rather diluted by Zira’s paleness. She had a cloud of curls decorated with tiny jewels that hung in her hair like stars.
Zira had dressed her up, too, like a perfect little doll.
Every time he saw the girl, she was the model of politeness and prettiness.
Arden remembered being dressed up like that. He gave the little girl his very best bow. “Extremely pleased to see you, Lexira.”
She smiled, pleased and nervous. She looked at her mother. Her eyes also darted to Rhys.
Alexander put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Any early reports?”
Arden smiled. “Ohh, now, even the candidates don’t get previews. Come inside.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Do you know Rhys?”
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Alexander said.
Zira eyed Rhys suspiciously.
Arden thought about saying, “Yes, that Rhys,” but decided it was Rhys’s place to decide how much he wanted people to know. In his nice new clothes, a stranger would never know he wasn’t a underdressed peer without him saying something.
He placed a hand on Rhys’s back and guided him along inside. “Let’s find somewhere to sit before all the good seats fill up.”
“Have you ever let anyone take a seat you wanted?” Zira asked.
Arden held his tongue for the sake of her daughter’s ears. He winced at the sight of the Big Room packed with so many people. Dimly lit with pools of color here and there and glittering decorations on the ceilings and walls, the room had several distinct sections tonight, all of them similar in aesthetic but different in purpose. The bar crowded with people standing and holding their drinks, a dance floor already frantic with bodies, a distant, screened-in corner full of cushions and pillows and low couches filled with bodies doing other things, and then a sitting area with tables and chairs and a buffet.
Rhys’s eyes swept over the whole room, drinking it in and looking simultaneously fascinated and disgusted.
Arden brought him over towards the sitting area. He settled Rhys into a seat, then raised a hand to call over a thrall. He thought better of it and made an awkward, aborted motion that turned into smoothing his clothes. “I, uh. I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get us drink. Drinks.” He checked to see if Zira and Alexander had peeled away, which they had. “What do you want?”
“I’m not picky.” Rhys sat upright and still in his chair.
They had a secluded corner table with room for more friends, but far enough from the fray people would need to seek them out to find them. A thin string of lights illuminated the space, but only modestly.
“I’ll be right back.”
Rhys nodded.
The crowds parted for Arden as he moved through them. He got his drinks as fast as they could physically be made. Still, it wasn’t fast enough because, by the time he returned to Rhys, people had found him.
Cathie had seated herself in the chair Arden had claimed and Bull lounged in the one next to her.
Arden placed a drink in front of Rhys. “Cath.”
She grinned at him. “I saw you two come in together. I was just talking to, uh…”
“Rhys,” Rhys provided.
“Mmm, Rhys. You know, I’ve seen you two together before but I never, uh, I never knew that this was that thrall,” she said.
“Well, he’s not a thrall anymore.”
Cathie grinned louchely at him. “No, I guess not.”
Arden wished she hadn’t said anything. He sat next to Rhys, between him and Cathie. He took a sip of his drink. “Snacks?” he asked.
“I’m not…Uh. Yeah. Yes. Your Eminence, I’ll be right back.” Rhys left the table and beelined for the buffet.
Arden hoped he’d hadn’t taken Arden’s question as a demand.
“Funny, bringing him here,” Bull noted.
Arden ignored him and asked Cathie about her sister, which he knew would eat up a lot of time. She loved her little sister to bits and had been a second mother to the girl.
Rhys returned with laden plates.
He sat quietly while Cathie chattered.
He stiffened when more people came to join them.
Mace, at least, had the decency to say, “Oh, Rhys, hi!” with a genuine smile on his face.
Cole eyed Rhys, but with curiosity, not cruelty.
“Do you know my brother?” Mace asked.
“I’m afraid not, Supervisor—”
“Rhys, shit, don’t do that, I’m not at work!” Mace insisted cheerily. “Just Mace. Anyway, this is Cole.”
Rhys nodded. “I’ve, uh, I’ve read your poems.”
Cole smiled shyly. “I hope you like them.”
Arden touched Rhys’s knee under the table. Just a bit of reassurance. He carried on talking to Cathie for a while, then the conversation spiraled out to include the rest of the table. Other people visited, Cole’s partners, a few of the ladies from Cathie’s club, pals of Bull’s.
Arden picked at the snacks Rhys had fetched and ferried empty glasses and drinks back and forth
between the bar.
The third time he came back he found that Cathie had taken his seat, again. She had her elbow on the table and her eyes on Rhys.
The sight made Arden’s stomach bubble.
Cole tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t stop listening in on the entirely friendly and banal conversation Cathie had pulled Rhys into.
The big screens mounted around the room turned on and showed a loading screen.
Cole grabbed onto Arden’s arm. “Oh! It’s time.”
Arden squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll win.”
Cathie smiled at Bull. “And you too, hon!”
Arden had forgotten that Bull had a nomination. He’d entirely forgotten. If there was any bit of luck in the entire universe, the votes would get rid of Bull so Arden wouldn’t have to deny his confirmation.
He slung back the rest of his drink, just in case.
The room quieted and everyone’s faces turned towards the screens, hundreds of faces illuminated in green and blue.
Arden held tight to Cole’s hand and Cole gripped back just as hard.
Numbers counted down from then, then the names appeared, alphabetical by last name.
“Cole Baker,” a synthetic voice read over the hushed music of the dance floor.
Cole squeaked, then buried his face in his hands, somewhere between laughing and crying.
Mace hugged him.
Across the room, Arden heard Wei Han let out a whoop.
“…Istis Frakes, Riley Hmong, Jon Keats…”
Arden’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t hear the rest of the names.
Cathie let out a whoop of delight and threw her arms around Bull.
Arden tuned back in to hear the last name.
“Shayla Mbye.”
Thank fuck Shayla had gotten elected.
He fumbled for his tablet and his hands shook as he pulled up the right page to confirm the candidates. The synthetic voice read them off a few seconds after he’d checked the boxes and saved the page.
“Cole Baker, confirmed.”
People whooped.
Cole hugged Arden, his face still wet. “I’m gonna try really hard,” he promised weepily.
“I know.” Arden squeezed him back like hugging Cole could make things better.
Alexander had hurried over to embrace and congratulate his partner.
The artificial voice continued to list confirmations. It said, “Jon Keats, denied.”
The room quieted.
People started to boo. Some people cheered.
Cathie stared at Arden. “What?” she demanded stonily.
Arden shook his head.
“What do you mean denied!” she demanded.
Bull stood up.
The voice went on confirming the rest of the candidates.
Arden shook his head. “He can’t…he can’t be on the Council.”
Rhys had his eyes fixed on Arden, a strange kind of wonder on his face.
“He’s not a good fit.”
Mace had curled up on himself, shoulders hunched. His hands clasped his arms but not hard enough to quell his shaking.
“What do you mean he’s not a good fit? You’re just being petty, Arden!” Cathie shouted.
“No,” Cole said. “Ardi’s right.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re fucking ridiculous,” Bull growled at Arden.
“I’m…!” Arden paused. He sucked in a breath. His teeth felt funny, which meant he’d absolutely drunk too much. “Does she know what you did?”
Bull turned red. “Don’t you dare—”
“Does she know!”
Cole had a protective arm around his brother and spoke softly into his ear.
“Rhys, take them for a walk,” Arden demanded.
Rhys stood. He put a hand on Mace’s arm. “Come on.”
The three of them left.
“It was a million fucking years ago, you can’t still be pissed,” Bull said.
“What was?” Cathie asked.
“If it was a million years ago, we’d all be dead, but we aren’t and I’ll be pissed, I’ll be fucking livid as long as I’m alive,” Arden told Bull.
“Livid! He’s not the one with a permanent bite mark on his arm.”
“Bull,” Cathie said. “What’s going on?”
“He fucking wanted it!” Bull shouted.
Arden didn’t think about it. He hucked his glass at Bull’s face and, to his seething delight, made contact. All those years of practice hadn’t amounted to nothing.
Bull clapped a hand to his nose but couldn’t stop the blood from seeping between his fingers.
“Arden!” Cathie shrieked.
Arden shoved the table out of the way so hard it toppled. “Say that again.”
Bull grabbed Arden by the face, his heavy palm wet. He squeezed so hard Arden’s jaw ached. “He. Wanted. It. You little fucking pricks flaunting everything and then crying as soon as you get what you deserve.”
Arden shoved a finger into Bull’s eye.
The bigger man bellowed.
“Stop it!” Cathie screamed. “Stop! Both of you, stop it!” She grabbed onto Arden’s arm and pulled him away, shoving herself between him and Bull. “What are you fighting about!”
“Bull can tell you,” Arden said. He snatched a napkin off the ground and wiped his face.
She had tears on her face, but Arden didn’t care.
“He can tell you and then you can ask me again why he can’t be on the Council.” He threw the napkin at her feet.
Safety officers had shown up finally, though they looked like they’d been celebrating too, judging by the lean of their stance and the crookedness of their uniforms.
“Bring him to lockup.”
Arden scanned the room for Rhys and the Baker brothers. He had to ask around for them, which turned out the be a feat because more people were interested in telling him he had blood on his face and asking what had happened with Bull than they were with answering Arden’s questions.
He found them eventually in a mostly empty room meant, Arden assumed, for thralls to hide the work that went into hosting events such as this.
The three of them were standing around, drinks in hand, and seemed to be uneasily and pointedly making conversation about something other than what had happened.
“Is that your blood!” Mace cried.
“Oh. No. I drink my glass…I threw my glass at his face.”
Rhys choked back a laugh.
“Fucking…Arden.” Mace sighed. He rubbed his face.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Mace sighed again.
Arden hugged Mace. He murmured, “I should have done more than bite him.”
“Ardi, don’t, I don’t even want to think about it,” Mace whispered.
He tightened his hug. “Come back to my room. All of you, we can…we’ll finish this party off right, huh? A few more drinks. I think I still have knuckles, too. Or we can play jumble.”
Weakly, Mace protested, “You always win at jumble.”
“I know, that’s why I like to play.”
All of them somewhat uncomfortable, they made their way back to Arden’s rooms. When they arrived and exchanged awkward glances, Arden gave Cole a nudge towards the bar in the corner and said, “Drinks!”
He washed his face, then gathered up all the pillows and blankets he could find. He found enough to exceed his grip, blankets tangling around his legs and pillows dropping as he walked.
Rhys gathered up what Arden lost and trailed behind him to the empty floor before the viewing window.
Arden spread out the pillows and blankets and added the couch cushions to create a comfortable nest.
Cole and Mace made themselves at home quickly, stripping shoes and jackets, and bits of confining clothing that might inhibit their lounging. They had done this before.
Rhys didn’t acclimate as
quickly.
Arden started to worry he wouldn’t at all. He wanted to hug him but didn’t know how Rhys would respond. He never knew where he stood with Rhys or what boundaries they had, or what ones they lacked but should have had.
He settled for giving him one of the drinks Cole had made and placing a guiding hand on his elbow. “Come get comfortable.”
Rhys sat stiffly on a pillow, all his clothes on.
Arden pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything. He shucked off his jacket, kicked his shoes into the corner, then stripped off the high-collared shirt he wore, too. The pants could stay, for now, loose and soft as they were. He sat next to Rhys, but not too close.
He stretched over and poked Mace’s leg with his foot. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” Mace said.
Arden made a face. “You always say that.”
Mace shrugged. He sipped his drink.
Arden left it alone. He placed his hand halfway between him and Rhys, just in case.
Cole said, “I don’t think I made them too strong—”
“You always make them too strong!” Mace said.
“That’s why we have him make the drinks,” Arden reminded with a smile.
Rhys shifted and adjusted his jacket.
No matter how much he wanted to slide his hands inside that jacket and ease it off his shoulders, Arden refrained. He draped a blanket over his lap and one shoulder so he’d have something to do with his hands. He traced the pattern stitched into the blanket.
“How’d Cathie take it?” Mace asked quietly.
“I didn’t tell her. It’s not my business to tell…I mean…” Arden shrugged. “She should hear it from you or Bull.”
A pinched look flitted over Mace’s face. He replaced it with a forced smile. “She’s going to be so mad at me!” he joked tremulously.
“No, she won’t,” Cole insisted.
Mace shook his head. “I’d…” He rubbed his nose. “I’d be mad at me.”
“Mason,” Cole scolded softly. He put an arm around his brother. “This is why Dad thinks we’re stupid. Because I actually am, and you say stuff like that.”
Mace snorted.
Rhys made a sound, some aborted word that he choked off.
They all looked at him.
