Adrin

Adrin and Jocyanë had been invited to dine that evening at the estate of Grais Yasoh and Saiglen Gabarias, to “celebrate the accession of a son of Nalla-Bidharac to the highest seat in the land.” Adrin had several new formal outfits to choose from for the occasion, all expertly tailored to suit him and make him look like someone who belonged among Thaliron’s high society. He had deferred to Sefoni’s judgment and chosen a high-collared tunic in pale green with accents of Talmuir ultramarine, with a golden loyalty ribbon stretched between his shoulder and wrist.

Jocyanë directed a pointed look at Isuld’s sword when Adrin came to meet her at the west gate, but all she said was “Let’s be on our way, then.”

“They couldn’t have had this dinner at one of their other houses?” one of the guards accompanying them muttered.

The Gabarias-Yasoh estate was on the outskirts of Thaliron, overlooking the Ocean. It would have been a ten-minute trip from the palace via linecar, but it took forty-five minutes for Adrin, Jocyanë and their entourage to reach it by foot. They drew on just a bit of vitricity to keep up their pace, and it wasn’t a taxing journey, but it wasn’t terribly interesting. Adrin felt a bit of sympathy for Naomi and her companions, spending day after day traveling. Her friend Jason didn’t even have any vitricity to draw upon.

Naomi had told him the night before they were getting close to the border between Sulair and Nalla-Bidharac. Their path wouldn’t take them close to Dhanlir, so Adrin had little hope of finding out how his family was faring in the current situation, but he longed for any news of his homeland.

Jocyanë kept two steps ahead of him, and Adrin made no attempt to close the distance. He still felt guilty for intruding on her life, but he could at least hang back and let her be the one to make the next move. Adrin had to prove that he was a man worthy of becoming the next king of Elorhe; he gathered that would do far more to win Jocyanë over than any romantic gesture he might have attempted. At least, he hoped that was the case. If Jocyanë expected a romantic gesture, Adrin was probably the worst person in the world to offer her one. Maybe love would blossom eventually? If he wasn’t a good match for Jocyanë, the Ocean wouldn’t have chosen him, would it?

Unless she only meant to keep him as master of the labyrinth, and to make someone else king . . .

Adrin ground his teeth. He had enough to worry about without adding romance to the mix. Like facing his former overlord and Lady Saiglen, two of the most powerful nobles in Elorhe.

When they passed through the gate into the estate grounds, the smell of spruce trees struck Adrin with a bolt of homesickness. It was as if he’d stepped into a piece of the lakelands, transported a thousand miles from home. From the overlook he could see two man-made ponds sculpted to duplicate the shapes of Lake Nalla and Lake Bidharac.

Their path would take them over a bridge that crossed the stream connecting the two to a sprawling mansion that looked like it could have been completed yesterday. The green roof tiles glistened in the evening sun, and the white, half-timbered walls gleamed as if they’d been polished.

Everything was beautiful, but it all seemed too empty, too quiet. Perhaps because the trees were obviously still young, and hadn’t yet grown to fill out the landscape . . . no, that wasn’t the problem. The estate looked like a Sanctuary garden, but a Sanctuary garden would have been full of visitors on an evening like this, when the heat and humidity of Thaliron had died down for the evening. This garden had been surrounded by walls and locked away for only a select few to enjoy, and that was why it looked so desolate.

A servant greeted the entourage at the door and escorted them to a finely furnished sitting room. Adrin supposed he was getting accustomed to luxurious furniture, because he no longer felt odd in a room where everything cost far more than he thought he’d ever be able to afford. He still wasn’t sure he belonged there, but at least he was getting used to it.

“Oh, no, this won’t do. On a lovely evening like this, we must go up to the roof,” Lady Saiglen told the servant. “Come along, the view is breathtaking and the fresh air—well, it’s perfect.”

Lady Saiglen looked perfect as always, in a gown the color of amber that brought out the ruddy highlights in her hair. She turned a dress that would have been an anachronism on anyone else into the height of elegance.

“Thank you for your generous invitation,” Jocyanë said a little stiffly, as they followed Lady Saiglen up a spiral staircase. Lord Grais waited for them on the rooftop patio, which was large enough to host a dining table, along with several other chairs. Everything looked elegant and comfortable and not at all weatherproof—someone probably had to carry the furniture in and out every time that it rained.

“Adrin Remyer.” Grais stood up to greet Adrin warmly. He would have been a strikingly handsome man next to anyone but Lady Saiglen, who outshone him in spite of his elegantly tailored clothing. Grais spoke with a Thaliron accent, without a trace of lake mud in his voice. “I’ve heard so much about you. Why, at the university they say you’re a genius.”

Adrin doubted if anyone at the university had really called him a genius. “You’re too kind, Lord Grais,” he said.

“Not at all,” Grais replied. “No praise is too high for a son of Nalla-Bidharac. They won’t underestimate us any more now, will they?”

“We don’t underestimate the contributions of the lakelands,” Jocyanë said smoothly. “Nor of Weslesca.” She nodded to Lady Saiglen.

“Ah, but sadly, there are so many who do,” Lord Grais sighed, trying to exchange a knowing glance with Adrin.

Adrin didn’t know what to say. Surely this wealthy man in his luxurious home didn’t feel the same sting as an ordinary lakelander told they’d never amount to anything because of where they came from. He couldn’t help but wonder how Lord Grais would have greeted him if he weren’t the Prince Ethereal—if his overlord would have acknowledged him at all.

“I think we can accomplish great things in the lakelands,” Adrin said. “With investment, and reform—”

“Adrin,” Jocyanë interrupted him. “Come look. You can see the Ocean from up here.”

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Her tone told him that he’d said something wrong. But Grais’s eyes had lit up when he heard the word “investment,” and he had apparently ignored what Adrin said after that.

“Yes, Nalla-Bidharac will blossom with the right investment,” he said, following Jocyanë and Adrin to the rail that surrounded the rooftop plaza. To the north, beyond the rooftops of the city outskirts, the Ocean loomed on the distant horizon.

“An investment in the people of Nalla-Bidharac,” Adrin said, ignoring the warning glance that Jocyanë aimed at him.

“You sound like my brother. He was an idealist, too. But his vision led him to Lost Bhadrat.” Grais sighed. “People need guidance. Leadership. That is what you must provide for them.”

Is that what you provide to your people? Adrin thought, though he knew better than to say it out loud.

“The young prince has much to learn, but so much potential,” Lady Saiglen said. Servants were bringing covered dishes up to the rooftop. “We had our chef prepare a meal in Nalla-Bidharac style for us to enjoy tonight. I expect you miss homestyle cooking.”

There was little in the fine meal laid out before them to remind him of his home, where they’d made do with far simpler fare. Yes, he’d eaten his fair share of fish back home, but not ceviche cured in lime juice, and the crayfish were larger than anything he’d ever seen scuttling around the lake. The food was good, though, even with Jocyanë staring at him and wincing every time he fell short of courtly manners. Lord Grais didn’t eat his meal perfectly neatly, either, but Jocyanë didn’t glare at him.

“On the subject of investments in Nalla-Bidharac—” Grais began the sentence before he was finished chewing a mouthful of noodles.

“It’s a bit early for any commitments, especially beyond what is needed to deal with the present crisis,” Jocyanë said, with a pointed glance at Adrin. “But you may rest assured that we will do everything that is necessary to restore ambient power and connection to Nalla-Bidharac and Weslesca.”

“But so much of the infrastructure in Nalla-Bidharac is antiquated,” Adrin said. “Now would be a perfect time to replace it with more up-to-date technology.”

“If Lord Grais would allow the engineering corps to work in Nalla-Bidharac I’m sure some upgrades could be arranged,” Jocyanë said.

“A bunch of engineers coming down from Thaliron to ‘improve’ our infrastructure isn’t what we need,” Lord Grais said. “The work should be done by Nalla-Bidharans.”

“That would be ideal, but there are so few Nalla-Bidharan engineers qualified to carry out complicated infrastructure projects,” Jocyanë said. “While most of the work can be done by Nalla-Bidharans, your people lack the expertise—”

“He’s got the expertise!” Grais said, indicating Adrin. “He’s a lakelander! Our people are just as smart, just as talented—”

“Yes, if they had a chance!” Adrin said. “I know I’m incredibly lucky to have gone to the university. I knew a dozen others just as intelligent who couldn’t afford it. If you want lakelander engineers, we’ll need scholarships to send talented students to the university, not to mention improvements in basic education to prepare students for higher studies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Nalla-Bidharac’s schools! They taught you, didn’t they?” Grais said.

“My teachers did their best, it’s true. But not everyone has a mother who can fill in what the schools aren’t able to teach,” Adrin said, with an apologetic glance at Jocyanë. Surprisingly, she didn’t look too upset.

“If you will agree to a certain amount of oversight, I’m certain investments in Nalla-Bidharan education can be made,” she said thoughtfully.

“Oversight! You think we are unable to manage our own affairs.” Grais crossed his arms indignantly.

“I think that House Yasoh manages its own affairs well enough,” Jocyanë said. “But the people of Nalla-Bidharac are my responsibility as well. I want to be absolutely certain that Elorhan funding is appropriated to the greatest benefit.”

She knows the nobility skim the top off of everything in Nalla-Bidharac, Adrin thought. She knows, yet she wants me to be nice and polite—

“Who better to know what is needed than those closest to the people?”

“What do you mean, closest to the people?” Adrin said. “When was the last time you were in Nalla-Bidharac longer than a week?”

“Adrin, please, let me handle this,” Jocyanë said. Adrin wanted to argue, but he wanted to please Jocyanë, so he sat and stewed in his anger instead. Was there some diplomatic and polite way to call Grais Yasoh out for the way he and his family exploited the lakelands? It was a good thing they were nearly finished with dinner, because he’d lost his appetite.

Adrin wasn’t merely angry with Lord Grais. He was angry with himself for being lulled by the fancy house and the fine dinner into behaving nicely for so long instead of expressing his honest feelings. But would it even make a difference if he did? Everyone knew that Grais Yasoh was lord of Nalla-Bidharac in name only. The real power was in the hands of his father Norsyff.

But Jocyanë was still speaking. “Do you know, Lord Grais, that there are fewer students at the University from Nalla-Bidharac than there are from Tuisa?” she said, naming the smallest of the eastern states. “Surely your province has more to contribute to the nation than lumber and grain.”

“We contribute more than Elorhe gives back to us.” Grais sounded impatient, even as Jocyanë kept her voice smooth and calm.

“And we want to be sure that the people of Nalla-Bidharac receive their due, but there are regulations that must be followed,” Jocyanë replied. “I know they may seem overly restrictive, but we must deal on a fair footing with all the provinces.”

“I suppose the easterners would take advantage if you left any loopholes,” Grais muttered.

Adrin coughed, and Jocyanë shot him a warning glare. Meanwhile, a servant whispered something to Lady Saiglen.

“Ah. I’m sorry to bring this lovely meal to a close, but I’m afraid there’s a rain shower on its way,” Saiglen announced. “Thank you so much for gracing our home, Prince Adrin, Princess Jocyanë. I’m sure you will want to return to the palace before the rain arrives.”

As if to punctuate her words, thunder rumbled on the horizon. There was little chance that they’d make it back to the palace before the skies opened up on them.

“She still thinks she should have been queen, after all these years,” Jocyanë seethed on the way home. “Dismissing us like we were nobody just when I was making progress with Grais. Maybe if you hadn’t offended them—”

“Why do you care so much if I offended them?” Adrin asked. “You know what they are. You know what Grais and his father have done to Nalla-Bidharac—and the Gabarias family isn’t much better.”

“We still have to work with them, Adrin!” Jocyanë said. They walked at a brisk pace, drawing on vitricity to quicken their steps. “There are ways of speaking diplomatically, but they require you to guard your tongue. From now on, I don’t want you speaking to any members of the Assembly without me.”

“Oh, so you get to decide who I can speak to and who I can’t?” Adrin couldn’t stop himself from retorting.

“I don’t know what else to do to keep you from causing any more damage,” Jocyanë said.

“You’re more concerned about me speaking out of turn than you are about the people of Nalla-Bidharac!” Adrin said.

Jocyanë stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you ever suggest that I don’t care about my people,” she said.

Adrin felt a chill that had nothing to do with the oncoming storm. At least he’d be able to vent to Naomi about the dinner soon; he had a feeling she would understand better than Jocyanë did.