Souchon Palace had just sloughed off its last potential new queen, and it quickly had to ready itself for a new contender. Isabella de Ginefort, daughter of Scemena de Ginefort, was a cousin to Henri from the same side of the family that Katherine was. From her portrait she was sweet-looking, slight, redheaded, and had something of a mischievous look in her eyes that the painters managed to capture. Aside from that, she was young and untainted by previous attempts at finding her a husband. A beauty such as herself likely only had to attempt it once, after all.

Readying court for her arrival from the war-torn Baradrans was a multifaceted operation, and contained the first real changes that Henri had to make to his palace now he was the king. First of all, now Katherine’s retinue had left, much of the fashionable crowd dispersed over the continent. Souchon Palace was no longer the hub of depravity and debauched festivities; neither was Norbury Lake, for neither Henri nor Katherine had much potency as host and hostess independent of one another, and therefore much of the ne’er-do-goods moved their home base to the city-state of Argento. Given Isabella’s strong faith and connection to her prestigious family name, there was not much use for Henri’s beloved wine fountain or his dungeons, and yet, he struggled to rid himself of them.

Now the libertines had moved out of Souchon Palace shortly after Katherine, Henri began enlisting the services of the Sbaian embassy. His contact went through a young woman, previously enslaved, whom the Sbaians had given the name Rima, and occasionally, he met with Freyza of Tougaf. These diplomats supplied him with anywhere from half a dozen to three dozen slaves whenever he inquired, whichever sex, skin colour, height, experience level, sundry skill, or particular characteristic he desired.

She had no business to know, but Louise somehow always did, and it ruffled her feathers greatly. It was a humongous expense and nearly just as much as a risk to her son’s security and health. She had hoped, after Katherine’s disappearance, that Henri would draw nearer to his great noble ancestry rather than straying further each day from God.

What she consistently reminded herself of, was the fact that that very same Sbaian ambassador that sold Henri hundreds of slaves per year, had been asked to accompany Katherine on her final voyage out of Massouron. According to Louis, who had been their host, she had denied any personal relationship to him. This bothered Louise: she knew Katherine was candid about her relationships, and there would be no way to keep an appearance of purity towards Louis given she was already on her way out of the country. The Sbaian emissaries themselves, however, were occupied with far more pressing matters than King Henri’s risk of syphilis due to their wares.

Freyza had arrived in awful spirits and had sulked around, letting his beard grow long and ragged ever since. It had not bothered Bayezid initially: he was used to Freyza’s quirks for better or for worse. Only when a large shipment arrived in Bourrac, and Bayezid learned that Freyza was not yet on his way, did he begin to worry. In normal circumstances, he was known to be a week early.

In a great rush, Bayezid entered Freyza’s chancellery. He was sitting hunched over some papers, quill in hand, yet only toying with his hand rather than writing with it.

‘Master Freyza,’ Bayezid said. ‘My apologies for my sudden appearance.’

He looked up one half bewildered and the other frustrated. ‘And why might you suddenly appear?’ he asked.

Bayezid had held his breath until he had calmly closed the door behind him. ‘Well, Master Freyza, a shipment has been awaiting you some time now. It is waiting to be cleared. Not only is this a grave inconvenience, it also strikes me as much unlike yourself.’

‘Why don’t you go to Bourrac?’ he asked.

Bayezid sat down and folded his hands together. ‘You have not asked me — any previous time, you would not have let me. I cannot help but wonder what has happened to you.’

Freyza raised his bushy brows as far as he could, touching the curl that escaped his hat over his forehead. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing that you could help me with, anyway.’

His face appeared grave and his hair, which had had grey in it since his late adolescence, took on a ghostly impression against the green tone of his translucent skin. His hands were clasped together and supported the side of his jaw.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Bayezid asked.

‘I’d rather not return to Bourrac, Bayezid. I left on bad terms last time.’

It was already hazy in Bayezid’s mind. ‘You were accompanying Her Majesty the Queen of Ilworth and you were looking forward to it,’ he recalled.

Freyza shot him a frustrated glance. ‘Even if you learn everything there is to learn, there is nothing you could help me with, so there is no reason for you to inquire. Besides, you’d likely think I’d lost my mind.’

His associate blinked lazily. ‘Frankly, with how you’ve been appearing in court these days, I imagine some of us already believe that,’ he said. ‘Myself not included, obviously. I know how you can be. You appear so stoic, Freyza, but deep down, you’re as soft as a down-stuffed cushion. I remember when Yusra left, and you’d stay in my office for hours just listening to my stories. Attempting distraction. It is a noble quality, but it’ll kill you if you let it. If you continue looking like this, it will at least end your term as ambassador.’

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

‘Who cares what I look like?’ he asked. ‘We live in a country where the king occasionally steps out of his chamber stark naked save for his ermine cloak. And I have to keep up with the shape of my beard, Bayezid? You are ridiculous.’

‘Allegedly so,’ he began. ‘But what happened in Bourrac?’

‘No,’ Freyza said. ‘I won’t tell you.’

‘Does anyone know?’ Bayezid asked.

‘No,’ Freyza admitted.

‘Tell me alone, and if the word travels, you shall know that it was me,’ he said. ‘Feel free to handle that fact accordingly.’

Freyza scraped his throat and sat back in his chair. Bayezid looked at him not expectantly or hopeful, but rather attentive, giving the impression of an empathetic friend rather than the court oracle that he had feared.

He attempted to speak, thought twice again paused, then, when it had been altered sufficiently, said: ‘I’m afraid I’ve made the grave error of becoming infatuated with someone in the Ilworthian retinue.’

Bayezid raised his brows. ‘Oh?’ he asked. ‘Well, that’s quite inconvenient.’

‘Yes,’ said Freyza with a nod. ‘And what is worse is that both the infatuation and the terror upon her departure were mutual. We’d met in Souchon Palace before, but hardly spoke of personal matters. Somehow we both had had an eye on one another and never found it quite befitting our respective stations to pursue it. Then we had the opportunity, the absolute last possible opportunity to see one another in the flesh for likely the rest of our lives, and this caused us to pursue it if only for the time remaining. Now I have returned, I find that it is consuming me. I had no illusions of harbouring no emotions towards her, but equally, I harboured no illusions of having a chance with her.’

‘Goodness,’ said Bayezid with genuine concern in his tone and eyes. ‘Have I met her?’

Freyza’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. ‘In passing,’ he said. ‘You’ve not spoken much, I don’t think.’

‘Someone high up?’ he asked.

‘Quit prying,’ he said.

Bayezid clicked his tongue. ‘I am trying to help you. I imagine someone high up, considering you did not just buy her off of the advisers or however they’d want to call it. Not a chambermaid, at least. Someone very beautiful? Do you think she has caught my eye too?’

Slowly, Freyza began to smile. ‘Bayezid,’ he chuckled. ‘I do not believe I have ever met someone more beautiful in my years of service to the Sultan’s great quest to attain the most beautiful women in the world. And besides that, she has the most buoyant soul — genuinely captivating to witness. I would gladly die to spend one more day in her presence. Had I known this was in the cards, I’d have written her letters and gifts and serenaded her by her window each night if it meant that I could have caught her eye sooner.’

‘You are mad,’ Bayezid said. ‘In the way of your usual madness, that is. There is always one young lady that makes you want to do these ridiculous things, Freyza, you ought to know by now.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘This is precisely what I’d feared. Bayezid, I’ve been offered a job in Ilworth. My beloved can set me up with the advisers.’

‘Grace of Hellister?’ Bayezid asked.

‘Of course not,’ Freyza said. ‘I find the Otterdon nobility more distant and regal than I find the crown.’

‘Well… if you feel as though it’d be a great development to step out of the light of your liege and into that of your lover’s, you should do it,’ Bayezid said. ‘You are wise enough to understand the repercussions of that. I’d like to remind you to what happened the last time you ran after your cock, though. You ideally want to be more certain than you were last time.’

‘I shall not go,’ Freyza decided. ‘While I stand by that decision, that same decision causes me much grief. There is much regret within that — both options break my heart.’

Bayezid grinned. ‘Only an old man would choose the regret of inaction over the regret of uncertainty. How about her, Frey? What did she say?’

‘That’s the issue,’ he said. ‘As much as I thought the infatuation was mutual, the moment it became clear that I would not be leaving with her, all of that warmth and comfort was ripped from me at once. It was as if she cared not for me, but rather that I was an investment of her future. It makes no sense, absolutely no sense… she does not need me, she wouldn’t be bored without me, plenty seek her affection. It couldn’t have been so cold as it seems. None of it felt cold while it happened.’

‘Men like you should be forbidden from ever frequenting a harlot, for you’d likely bankrupt yourself as soon as she’d call you some soulless affectionate term,’ he said.

‘Will you stop berating me?’ he asked. ‘I’m in the absolute depth of longing. I will drown in a sea of unanswered desire. I can’t go to Ilworth. I can’t leave this all behind. I’ve lived without her for thirty-five years, and now it seems impossible to live one more day without her. I was content living in a darkness I did not even notice.’

Bayezid began tapping the edge of Freyza’s desk, and his eyes were downcast. His patience appeared to be running out. ‘This is, by all measures, a ridiculous situation to be in. What did she look like? I’ll find you a copy that won’t leave your side, if you wish.’

‘I’m not interested in a copy; I want to drown in the sea,’ Freyza protested.

‘Nonetheless,’ said Bayezid. ‘Wouldn’t you like to indulge a little, given that I’m the only man you’ll tell?’

He sighed deeply and relaxed his clenched jaw. ‘If she’d been Najan, I’d sold her to the Sultan. White as the moon, pinpricked freckles all over her face and body as if she’d spent her life lying nude in the sun, olive green eyes, and the most exquisite head of red hair.’

‘What?’ he asked. ‘A redhead in Queen Katherine’s retinue?’

Freyza had purposefully left the crumbs for Bayezid to follow, but even though it was the case, watching Bayezid follow them before him gave him a feeling that surpassed anxiety.

‘Is this some elaborate joke?’ Bayezid asked.

‘I sure wish it was,’ Freyza said. ‘Honestly I do.’

‘Katherine of fucking Courtenay has invited you to Ilworth with her?’ he asked, with his voice reduced to a whisper. ‘Are you kidding me?!’

‘That’s what you find most notable of all of this?’ Freyza replied in the same tone.

‘You should go,’ Bayezid said.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I’m too late now. Likely replaced in her affections. She’s a cruel woman, Bayezid. By the morning, she had asked me to take all of this into the grave with me. And yet, I wonder what would have happened, had I chosen to leave this all behind.’

‘Who knows?’ Bayezid asked. ‘Maybe one day, she might have even granted you the honour of sitting by her side at a banquet or something.’

Freyza crossed his arms and wondered if he should tell Bayezid anything more, given that his impression was far more rudimentary than it could be. Though, beneath all of his longing, and beneath even the mask of diplomacy on him in most occasions, he could not help but indulge in some bragging.

‘Well,’ he said with amusement, ‘I understand that would be an honour for somebody like yourself. Given, however, that I was offered a position as royal favourite after sleeping with her, I imagine that if I’d said yes, that’d just be where I would sit during most banquets.’

‘Alright,’ Bayezid said. ‘I see a smile. I’ll ready your carriage to Bourrac, you fucking liar.’