by R. Cooper
It was a very small comfort, but Taji clung to it.
“He wants to speak so much he sparks with it.” Larin regarded Taji with delight. “Should I let him? I am generous.” Larin leaned forward with his arm outstretched and Taji flinched back, sending a spray of rithmi water over his hands and onto the tiles.
The room was airless, quiet enough to hear the brush of fabric as Rinnah sat back down after leaping to her feet, and then Larin said, carefully, “I will not touch you, Taji shehzha, but you must turn your head.”
Taji stared at him, wide-eyed, heartbeat frantic.
A servant popped forward to take his cup, refill it, then set it on the table. Another appeared to wipe up the spill. The gray blurs behind him did not move.
Larin spoke again, while Taji’s face stung with embarrassment at his reaction. “Turn your head, and you will be able to speak. To disarm or remove the alay requires a key.”
Taji felt foolish but no less anxious, though he eventually—slowly—turned his head. Talfa and Rinnah looked conspicuously elsewhere. Taji was strung tight as a wire. The air stirred as Larin moved again, raising the hairs on the back of Taji’s neck. He could feel pressure from Larin’s fingertips on the device, pressing tiny buttons or triggers. A moment later, some of the pinprick sensation in Taji’s skin disappeared.
The spot where the pinpricks had been was numb. Taji put his hands to his throat and swallowed several times. The alay was still in place. Larin had only disarmed it.
Taji took a deep, unsteady breath and hated the tears he could feel in his eyes.
“The emperor can be kind,” Larin whispered.
“You think so.” Taji’s voice was rusty, barely more than dry rasps. He blinked rapidly, hoping the tears would vanish before he had to wipe them away in front of everyone. “The emperor is what the Sha need. Do the Sha need kindness?”
The angle of Larin’s ears said Taji had his attention. “They need what I decide they need,” he answered, charged with energy now. “You might need it, little Taji.”
Taji risked meeting Larin’s eyes. “I had it.”
Larin merely tipped his head to the side and regarded Taji with pleasure. “It is gone now and you will suffer.”
With effort, Taji pulled his hands to his lap and left the alay alone. “I told you before, I am used to pain. I am used to loneliness, too.”
“Your eyes are wet and sparkling,” Larin remarked, curious, as if Mirsans, or at least the Sha, did not shed tears of emotion. “It is difficult to be alone,” Larin added and could have been sincere.
The young emperor, all alone in the world of the Sha, with a sister too little and then too involved in her studies to offer him any help. Taji might have felt bad for him if not for how Larin had chosen to alleviate his loneliness.
“No number of shehzha was ever going to change that.”
Taji hadn’t expected a reaction, but Larin went still for the space of a heartbeat, then lowered his head to look at Taji directly. “Some say I dishonor them.”
Taji’s eyebrows flew up, which he doubted translated to anything useful unless the Sha had been watching a lot of vids.
“What would you say, Talfa?” Larin continued without turning. “Would you think it a dishonor to have the attention of the emperor?”
He used the word for attention but Taji suspected it was meant more like favor. Larin did not offer his heart or his honor, and it was brief attention at best. The others might have all known that, making that aspect of their bonds not dishonorable. Elii, perhaps, might have hoped for more, but Larin had probably been careful not to promise that either.
“It is not an honor if you do not want it,” Talfa declared quietly, making Taji’s pulse quicken. Taji jerked his gaze over to Talfa, who was alert ears and a stiff spine.
“However,” Rinnah’s voice was like falling water, “many change their minds.” She didn’t look at Talfa or her brother. She looked at Taji.
Taji turned back to Larin.
“You disagree?” Larin studied Taji’s face and read whatever he wanted there.
“You could do that,” Taji answered, abruptly cold again. “I am certain you could change someone’s mind. You are convincing when you want to be and forceful when you do not want to be convincing.” There was fury in Taji’s words too, but he was shehzha; honesty was expected. “You could even make the bond happen.” Taji shied away from the word he was thinking of, because he thought it in Anglisky and didn’t know the Sha word for it. “Though it does not last as long that way, so I was told. It does not affect the brain as much. Which means it is not as good.”
Clinical bonds were something he had imagined as part of alliances between families. A forced bond was different, but the science was probably similar. He shuddered.
“It is probably also easier to resist. For you, I mean. For the eshe. You should feel the effects of any bond too. That is why being an eshe is meaningful. Because your control, your strength are on display. Having three shehzha means you must be very controlled—or only Elii felt anything real for you. But you know that already.”
Someone hissed, like a shocked, indrawn breath that not even a Shavian noble could hide.
Larin was still again.
Taji was shivering, huddled into Trenne’s coat as if it could do anything for him. He kept his focus on Larin, because that’s what Larin wanted. He was no diplomat, but he was all that was left, and he had to save himself the same way Rinnah and Talfa did. “If you wanted lovers, you could have had them,” he told Larin softly. “You wanted shehzha, many of them, from all over the capital and the other families. You went through them like sweet treats. Why?”
Larin watched Taji steadily. “You demand everything.”
My shehzha will take everything, Trenne had said. Taji curled in on himself, trying to suppress biological longing stirred up by the memory of Trenne’s voice. It was visceral, a physical ache he couldn’t ignore. And it was going to get worse. It might get so bad that Taji would plead for someone who wasn’t there, and when that didn’t bring relief, the longing might tell him to accept anyone, any substitute, even Larin. Larin might be counting on it, and that wouldn’t violate any traditions. Taji would be his.
Trenne’s voice lingered in his thoughts, sending shivers down his spine. My shehzha could command an emperor.
Taji’s poor, overworked heart thudded heavily against his ribs.
Trenne didn’t lie. Trenne had meant that when he’d said it. He had warned Taji about Larin repeatedly after seeing him but then Trenne—who thought through every idea and played strategy games for fun—Trenne had also said that.
Larin collected shehzha and Taji was unusual. He’d also mouthed off, and Larin probably wanted to punish him for that, and what better way than to make Taji mindless for him? But Trenne could not have been right about the rest. Taji was just Taji, ordinary in all respects except for some talent with languages.
He realized Larin was waiting for an answer and quickly shook his head. Then he swallowed because he still didn’t know enough about all of this to explain why Larin and Trenne would say something like that. “Is it wrong? Is it bad for a shehzha to want everything from their eshe?”
Larin took in a long breath and then slowly let it out. He leaned forward, though not too far. “You ask if it is wrong to want of all your eshe?” His voice had a tremor. “You want all and you would give them all,” he added, hunger in his gaze. “Would you give them all of your knowledge, in addition to your devotion?”
Taji’s mouth fell open but no words emerged. That was what Larin had wanted from a shehzha all this time—what he wanted from Taji. Truth and challenge but also worship and trust.
Taji couldn’t do that. Taji didn’t even like him. This was ludicrous. Someone like Larin wouldn’t even have looked at Taji if they’d met anywhere else. The Sha didn’t like out-of-control, broken bodies. Larin was supposed to be the Sha. Taji shouldn’t have appealed to him.
Taji sucked in a
breath because he was getting hysterical and he didn’t think Larin would like Taji panicking at the thought of…at that thought. It wasn’t entirely the longing. Larin was dangerous. Larin was terrifying, and he wanted Taji to trust him and speak the truth and—and control him. Or try to. Like a game, except that Taji’s only other option was to suffer.
Taji didn’t have sexual wiles. He didn’t have any wiles. He had a mouth. That wasn’t enough.
Although Trenne thought so. He’d looked at Taji like Tsomyal had and seen something provocative.
“Yes,” Taji answered Larin at last, and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Taji shehzha is greedy,” he pronounced softly. “Trenne is very strong and he…he had to fight to resist me. I was spoiled and the others said so. But…” Taji’s empty stomach roiled as he hesitated, “I gave him everything. I could not stop myself.”
He’d told himself it had been safe to dream of him. He’d risked nothing but his own humiliation every time he stood too close or stared too long. Taji couldn’t raise his voice.
“Honor. My body. My heart, as humans say. My mind. I am foolish and reckless and wild. I am incapable of silence or calm. Do you know what the eye of the storm means?” Nadir had called him that, like Taji was trouble, like he drew trouble. Taji clasped his hands tightly together to help hide how they shook. “Shavians have fought over me. Died for me. Almost died for me. I have traveled through multiple systems and the best person I have ever met wanted me enough to ask me. He took months to win me.” Trenne had befriended him, courted him, and protected him.
“He gave me everything I asked for.” Taji let his eyes close for one moment to keep his thoughts of Trenne for himself. Then he looked up to meet Larin’s rapt stare. “What does an emperor have to offer compared to that?”
Not one body around them seemed to draw breath. Not one piece of fabric shifted against another. And then, in the distance, was the faint sound of weeping.
Elii, Taji suspected. He was the only one here with reason to cry over this, besides Taji.
One of Larin’s ears flicked in that direction but otherwise he did not move.
“But this is not entirely about what you want from a shehzha, right?” Taji pressed. “To have me here, that is not a good enough prize. To have the I.P.T.C. in your bed, under your control…what a show that would be. And, while that matters, you had better also make sure that no other hurat dare to have a shehzha, yes? All of that first, and then there is the rest. Larin, the lonely. Larin, who cannot trust anyone—and was right not to. They use you and flatter and lie and then come for you in the woods anyway. Like Nikay?” Taji had met Nikay. A stab in the back didn’t seem out of character for him. Though it was just as likely Larin had struck first. “They oppose you, like the Koel. The I.P.T.C. will not understand your concerns. But the correct shehzha could.”
These were guesses anyone might have made, but never to Larin’s face. Taji had nothing left to lose and the full attention of an emperor. “The right shehzha, who is truly devoted, will support you but challenge you. A challenge you will meet. You want to show your control, then why not a shehzha like me? Natural shehzha, they say, and I must be. I am hungry, always, for everything. I am Taji, the Mouth. I demand everything, emperor or not.”
“I am no hurat,” Larin said, ferocious. He was almost beautiful with that much emotion showing.
“Everything,” Taji repeated himself, softer this time. ‘Asha was a soft language, even when it hurt. “A hurat could bear it. Can an Olea? I will not be able to ask for less.” The reason emperors could not stay emperor while they were shehzha was that shehzha were supposed to be creatures of selfishness and greed and too much tenderness. But having a shehzha was one of the marks of a strong emperor. “You have had many shehzha and the Inri did not like you for it. The Koel detested you for how you treated them. Even the people who live outside the Garden District know how little you care about them. If the emperor cannot honor a shehzha equal to how the shehzha has honored them, then why should anyone honor that emperor? Why should any shehzha say yes?”
The ambassador had implied all of this, but Taji had been distracted. Emperor was not a job. It wasn’t rank. It was a role. Someone could be born to it or choose it, but it was all a part of the same Sha obsession with control. The emperor was eshe to the empire.
“Is that why you lose your family name? You were born Olea, but you are Larin Emperor, as I am Taji shehzha.”
These were probably the words Larin hadn’t wanted the Civil Guard to hear. Taji closed his mouth, too late, everything he’d just said now screaming through his mind.
Larin cut through Taji’s terror. He was quiet and did not sound angry. He still had desire exposed on his face for anyone to see. “Do you believe you know the Sha better than I do?”
Taji quickly shook his head. “No…no. But you could teach me. If I let you.”
Some of the fire disappeared from Larin’s eyes. He inhaled and exhaled—breathing exercises Taji now recognized—and sat back loosely on his cushion. “You think you will command an emperor?”
Taji snorted. His voice went a little high with everything he was struggling to keep at bay. “I think I do not trust you to come when I beckon.” He had seen Larin with Elii. Larin had made him see.
“Would you?” Larin inquired, composed except for the drum of his fingers against his thigh. “Would you beckon me? Even though you are from the stars?”
“I told you, I cannot help myself.” Taji’s stomach was knotted tight. “Everything, or nothing.”
Larin stopped his hand. “You offer everything?”
“You would have to earn it.” Taji didn’t think he had any more courage left. He was just terror and instinct. “A hurat did. You would give me everything but resist me.”
“Did he do that? Did he truly?”
Tears burned at Taji’s eyes again. He blinked them away. “Yes.”
Larin didn’t miss anything. “He is gone.”
A few tears slipped down Taji’s cheek anyway. “Can you do better?”
He didn’t think anyone had ever asked Larin that. But Larin allowed it.
“The hunt did not impress you,” Larin mused. “The removal of my enemies did not please you.” Taji did his best to look as blank as the Sha but did not think it worked. Larin was too sharp. “I could be generous,” Larin offered after a pause, watching Taji closely. “Indulge your softness for Talfa, for Rinnah, the others.” Taji caught his breath and Larin settled into his cushion with an air of satisfaction. “Or…” he dragged out the word, “your other weakness, i’schla.”
Taji didn’t know that word. It didn’t sound ‘Asha.
“That is what Larin Emperor might do,” Taji insisted quietly, although Larin probably wanted him to ask what that word meant. “What would Olea Larin do? If he were not emperor and he wanted me to hand him my honor?”
For a moment, Larin’s mouth was soft. “Give you soria to make sehn burn, and put cuffs along your tiny ears—other ornaments, if you want those, too. Beds and cushions wherever you like. I would order more lifts built, even through the stone walls of Laviias.”
That was especially cruel. “Not carry me?” Taji wondered in a strange, crystalline sort of voice, not at all certain what he would do if an emperor picked him up, suddenly not sure that Larin wouldn’t.
Larin stiffened and stared at him. Then, he appeared at ease again. “If I gave you what you wished, you would run to it.” He left Taji waiting, pleased by the curiosity Taji couldn’t hide, and then added, “I could grant you permission to study the ruins.”
He was confident that this would mean more to Taji than being held in his arms, but the longer Taji sat in shocked silence, the more Larin seemed carved from stone.
“You know me better than I thought,” Taji finally replied, choking on the words.
“You are tempted.” Larin should have been smug; Taji didn’t think he was. “I thought you would give all to me, but some of you would be with the rocks
and the rain.”
Taji stared. “You...have a poetic way of speaking.”
Larin flicked one ear, deliberate and disdainful. “I am not the hurat.”
Taji closed his mouth and blinked several times, though his tears stayed caught in his eyelashes. “He would be with me in the rocks and the rain.”
“But not here now.” Larin twisted the knife with obvious pleasure.
“Right,” Taji agreed faintly.
“Larin.” Rinnah was feather-light, careful. “The longing has him. He is not well.”
