The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

21.2

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The ocean air felt good through his hair. Kiet turned his face towards the sun, basking in its heat. 'Stay in the shade,' his mother would say. She'd walk around with an oil-paper parasol everywhere she went. 'Dark skin is the mark of farmers and fishermen, not royalborn like us.'

Had she forgotten the Tsun blood that ran through her by grace of her own mother's line? It was the only reason their skin never tanned so deep.

All day he had been hearing her voice; things he turned a deaf ear to, advice he ignored to keep the peace. Now they resurfaced, one after the other. They had annoyed him then, the same way unsolicited parental advice was wont to annoy a child—but now he wondered how they never coloured the way he looked at her. What other things had he missed due to his wilful ignorance?

A call rang from the sky. His swiftlet came swooping down, silhouetted under the glare of the sun. Kiet held out an arm just in time for it to alight, shaking the last drops of spindrift from its wings. He winced as it curled around his forearm. Its grip had grown strong, its talons much sharper and larger than he remembered.

'When under Ogbu's Great Eye did you get so big?' How was a better question, but he had little time to worry amidst everything else he was attempting to parse.

'Maharaj.' Kiet turned at the voice. Akai emerged from a cabin behind him. 'He is awake.'

Kiet found himself stalling. 'I think insects will suffice no more for this one.'

Akai looked over the bird as though for the first time. 'How much theurgy did you feed him, exactly?'

'Enough to save its life.' Kiet scratched the creature's neck. 'Though I fear it may end up taking it, too, if it grows any larger. Are swifts even aerodynamic past a certain size?'

'Aerowhat?'

'Never mind. Just keep an eye on it while I'm gone.' The bird hopped onto Akai's shoulder after a gentle prod. Kiet gave it a final pat before making for the cabin.

He entered without knocking.

If Taeichi was irritated at Kiet's sudden intrusion, he at least made no sign of it. He rose from his bed, a smile spreading across his face. The truth-weaver had washed and dressed in common soldier garbs; even then he looked like he belonged more in a calligrapher's workshop.

'It was gracious of you to allow me passage aboard your vessel, maharaj,' he said. 'And dangerous, too.'

'Truth be told, I was unaware of the arrangement until I boarded the ship myself.'

'My understanding is that I am in your service until a certain trial is held.'

'I keep no man in my service who prefers to be not. You are free to leave once we make port.'

'Even so. I gave Isla-dae my word, and I intend on keeping it.'

Isla-dae? Never mind the familiarity—she gave him her true name? 'You have time yet to consider your options.'

'You do not want my assistance.'

'Seems you're able to extract truths from one's mind as well,' said Kiet dryly. He scanned the cabin for a place to sit, settling for a chair before an empty bookshelf. 'Would you consider truth an objective fact, Taeichi-seung?'

'That is neither here nor there.'

'Humour me. If a woman believes she is the daughter of an Emperor and declares it thus, would you detect a lie from her lips when—unbeknownst to her—she had been taken from a pair of wildflowers all along?'