Marek loosens his grip on Sei’s wrist but doesn’t let go until Gabra has vanished into the hall. Sei doesn’t speak again for the rest of the meal.
***
Afterwards, Marek sends Sei back to the garrison with guards. He needs to talk to Sei, but first, he wants something usually best avoided: a conversation with his little brother.
The desire apparently isn’t mutual. Kazia allows Marek into his parlor but doesn’t look happy about it.
The room hasn’t changed much since the last time Marek was here. Three years ago? Four? The parlor is still neatly furnished. Violet sofas and wall hangings, cream-washed stone walls. Everything is refined. Elegant. Clearly Aliza’s work. Kazia looks out of place with his fondness for tight black wyrmskin and excessive silver buckles.
So do the crudely carved dragon statues looming on either side of the fireplace. Marek doesn’t have much of an eye for art, but even he can tell they’re ugly.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Kazia demands. “Doesn’t your new little pet miss you?”
Marek regrets this already. “You will not refer to Sei like that,” he growls.
Instead of snapping back, Kazia tilts his head. “Huh. Interesting. You’re serious about that.”
Kazia plucks a token from the box on the mantle and tosses it into the fireplace. “I still want to know what the fuck you’re doing here.”
The minor enchantment sparks, and flames flicker into life among the ashes.
Marek bites back his instinctive bristling. Remembering why he’s here, he says, “That was kindly done.”
“You have a peculiar sense of kindness.”
“You saved Gabra’s life.”
“I did not. Unless she was dying of scurvy.” Kazia taps his chin. “Does lettuce even cure scurvy?”
Marek refuses to be baited. “You deliberately humiliated Gabra to improve Father’s mood. You drew Father’s temper onto yourself instead, since he might kill Gabra, but he would never hurt you.”
Kazia flinches.
For a second, he stands as still as the hideous statues, motionless except for the fire reflecting in his pale purple eyes. Then Kazia laughs sharply and reaches for another fire enchantment. “Kindly fuck off, brother dearest.” The flames dazzle brighter. “If you repeat that nonsense about saving lives, I’ll rip your eyes out.”
Serves Marek right for trying.
The conversation lingers unfinished in Marek’s wake. But he’s confirmed what he needed to confirm. Kazia knew exactly what he was doing at dinner tonight.
***
There’s something about the sight of Sei curled up in bed that wipes out Marek’s every thought. Sei just looks so comfortable, like he belongs there. The possessive instinct is strange when this bed has never felt like Marek’s. He has no true claim on Sei. He certainly has no reason to be jealous of the giant crimson fellcat curled up on the bed with Sei.
Before Marek can recover, Sei sets down his book and slips from the bed. Marek averts his eyes from the shadow of bare collar bone before Sei adjusts his robe.
Osric snores gently.
Sei’s demand is quiet, but no less urgent: “What was that?”
“Thatwas why I hate being stuck in Ostomar.”
Marek has never hated it more than this moment. Forget his own yearning for Talorna. The gray northern skies where the deadly enemies are so much easier to understand. Marek can’t wait to remove Sei from his father’s court. Sei is too friendly. Too sincere. Marek can protect Sei from almost anything, but not from saying the wrong thing in front of the king.
Would Marek have jumped up in defense if Sei had been the one to mention Vana today? Marek likes to think he would. But today he sat helpless while bratty, vicious Kazia rescued Gabra instead.
“Things will be better in Talorna,” Marek says, still mindful of the sleeping fellcat. “I promise.”
“You promise,” Sei repeats with a derisive grimace.