The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

33.2

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'Isla.' A hand curled around her shoulder, warm and firm. She blinked, and the full weight of the Rama's jii came crushing down upon her, latent though it was. Her knees buckled, but Jinsei held her steady. His voice was low as he pulled her further away from the Rama's bed. 'Enough.'

Enough.

How long had she been in there?

Kiet was sitting on the edges of his father's bed, his plate-sampler peeling what looked to be the fourth mangosteen for the Rama. His therapeut was not even in the chamber anymore, though when and why he left, Isla could not tell. She vaguely remembered their conversations, was vaguely aware of decorating the Rama's room while she worked in his head ... but the details were a haze ...

'You need to sit.'

'Not in the Rama's presence,' Isla whispered back. She opted instead to lean against him, gripping on the lapels of his robe, basking in the afternoon light that streamed through the windows.

Jinsei held a hand against her forehead. 'At least have some water.'

Not in the Rama's presence. Her glare was enough to answer him. He had no time to argue—Kiet had already risen from the bed, his eyes dripping with irritation as he glanced back at them.

'I fear I must take leave for now, Father,' he said.

'Already?' The Rama swallowed his mouthful. 'Are you returning to the woods for the red king crane?'

'Alas am I certain Khaisan has the creature but plucked and roasted.'

'Ahh ...' The regret was clear in his voice, but he patted Kiet's shoulder as though it was his son who suffered greater disappointment. 'Dwell not upon it ... come next blooming season, am I certain ... I feel it in mine bones!'

'Rest well, Father.' He bowed before him and the rest of them followed suit before exiting back through the doors.

The gallery was empty when they returned. Save for the Maha Rama's guards, everyone had dispersed to prepare for their evening meal, leaving only their gifts and well-wishes behind.

They were well away from the Rama's chambers when finally Kiet opened his mouth. 'Does the Tsun Emperor tolerate whispering in his court?'

The question was directed at Jinsei, though Kiet did not spare him as much as a glance. The truth-weaver simply chuckled. 'Has the maharaj suddenly become a stickler for court etiquette?'

'Suddenly?'

'It was my maharaj, correct, who almost caused a riot at the Emperor's temple?'

'That is a heavy misinterpretation, but sure.'

'And the maharaj who sought to blackmail a Tsun hanjeon into speaking with him?'

'Your perspective truly is refreshing, but it changes none of my instructions. Keep silent in the Rama's company, unless no longer do you value your tongue. Surely are you capable of lasting a few hours without engaging in sweet nothings.'

'You're in a foul mood today,' muttered Isla. Even the plate-sampler walking paces behind him seemed cowed by his ill-temper, though none of it was directed at her. She seemed even more aghast at Isla's unsolicited remark, and Isla had to remind herself that Kiet was a maharaj—not a racy sailor too long at sea.

'And you.' Kiet glared at her from over his shoulder before taking her by the wrist. 'I've a message for the Rajini Chei. You'll come with me. The rest of you are dismissed.'