Raul Tordault was in need of a drink. More than one, if he could get away from the crowd long enough to finish them. The press of governors, dignitaries, students, and — most particularly — family was somehow even more suffocating than it had been at his birthright. Today, he was not even supposed to be center of attention, but it seemed that everyone was quite as eager to shake his hand as they were Advisor Randolph’s.
The only pleasing face he had yet seen in the crowd was Nehemiah’s. And he was reasonably certain that he was the only person here that Nehemiah knew at all. Raul had lost his school friend to a drink in a corner half an hour ago, a terrified stare plastered over Nehemiah’s usually calm face. It was understandable, but disappointing. Raul had very much been hoping to use the opportunity to introduce Advisors Randolph and Hotspur to his friend. The formal setting would have forced Hotspur to accept that who held the other advisor positions was his business, at least for the night. Raul would have to try another time. He had hope that Advisor Randolph could be swayed to share his opinion. She seemed amiable thus far.
Raul had nearly made it to the dining hall’s long back table, which had been converted to a bar for the evening, when a hand dropped onto his shoulder. He didn’t quite stop his frustrated sigh in time.
“Oh? Is it that disappointing to see me?”
Raul whipped around, full of excitement for the first time in hours. The woman behind him was much taller than he remembered, and fuller bodied, but they had known each other as children, and she still had the same serene smile and long dark curls.
“Amna! I had no idea you had made it for the appointment! How are you?” Raul pulled Amna into a tight hug, and led her to the bar.
“Well, for the moment. My parents are about somewhere. I’ve temporarily given them the slip to say hello, but they’ll corner me again soon, I’m certain.”
“A drink first, then, for sure. Preference?”
“Something strong,” Amna murmured. She leaned her elbows on the bar and turned her head to keep speaking low in Raul’s ear. “Actually, I have ulterior motives, if you aren’t offended by that.”
“Never,” Raul grinned.
“There’s a young man in the corner, about your age, average height, good hair. Who is he?”
Raul laughed into his drink and pushed Amna’s over to her while he caught his breath.
“Now there’s a match I’d be happy to see.”
“That’s not his name, I take it,” Amna returned. “Friend of yours?”
“From Academy, yes. You’d get on. Same love of sarcasm, and of teasing me.”
“I still haven’t heard a name,” Amna whispered, looking back towards the corner. Raul turned to glance that way, too, but couldn’t see past the crowd to where he knew Nehemiah was standing.
“Nehemiah Smedley,” Raul said. Amna snorted into her drink. “No, really, I’m not making that up. It’s got charm, actually, once you get used to it.”
“He goes by that?” asked Amna, raising one eyebrow.
“Daily. He’s got the serious demeanor to pull it off,” Raul answered. “You might know a few Smedleys from Sudapor. His family’s from there, originally.”
“Fish merchants, yes I know them,” Amna said, nodding now. She still stared to the corner neither of them could see. “I assume he doesn’t follow the family business here in Kingston?”
“Would that bother you?”
“Of course not. You know me better than that, I hope,” Amna frowned.
“Just making sure. It’s been nearly five years, and you’ve been trapped with your parents in the Sudapor Governor’s House all that time,” Raul smiled. Amna grimaced.
“Don’t remind me. I’m drinking them away,” she grumbled.
“Good to hear. Maybe we’ll have a decent leader in the South one day after all.”
“Don’t count on it,” Amna said, dropping her voice so low that Raul had to lean in to hear.
“My disagreements with my family have turned… more serious. I think they’re planning to have Mardul take the Governor’s House.”
“You’re older,” Raul started, but Amna shook her head.
“They’ve found a suitor,” she said.
“Do you like—”
“In Northpointe.” Amna downed the last of her drink and slid the glass back across the bar, distinctly avoiding Raul’s gaze as she did so.
“Northpointe?” he whispered. “They’re trying to get rid of you?”
“That is the conclusion I’ve come to, yes.”
“I could—”
“I don’t think it would do any good,” she grumbled.
“It might if you let me finish my offer,” Raul retorted.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be short with you, but this has been going on for a year. We are beyond reconciliation. A wedding date is set. I’m to lose my surname, and my titles with it.”
“Have you even met the man?”
“The ass, you mean?” Amna snorted.
“Amna!” Raul choked, but Amna continued on, still whispering low, and he struggled to contain his laughter.
“We met tonight. It went poorly. I’m scouting better prospects.”
“Well, I can recommend Nehemiah in that I’ve never found him to be an ass,” Raul said, “but what are you planning? I don’t think he’s likely to elope with you tonight.”
“Would he kiss?”
“I— I don’t know,” Raul admitted. “You could ask, I suppose. He might agree out of politeness if you can fake sobriety well enough.”
“There’s no need for me to fake anything,” Amna said airily. “I thank you, Raul. I hope I’ve given you an entertaining reprieve?”
“Quite. You know I’m always obliged to assist in ulterior motives.” He bowed to her as she pushed off from the bar. Amna turned to give him another serene smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “It is very good to see you. I will make a point of doing so more often. I believe more opportunities will present themselves in the coming years.”
“I hope so,” Raul returned. They nodded to each other, and Amna slipped back into the crowd of people with astonishing grace and speed. Raul watched her dark curls cross the room for several seconds before Georges Eirenos of Evina pulled him over to shake hands again. Raul was temporarily pulled back into the mass of governors, mayors and notable citizens. He had lost his tally of how many times Howell Sullivan had forced his way into a conversation, and had to start it over. At the moment, Advisor Hotspur was being forced to deal with the man. Raul felt a little pity for Hotspur, but not as much as he probably should have. Hotspur could have taken the opportunity to speak with Nehemiah instead. A minute or so later, Raul spotted Advisor Randolph against the back wall. She was either significantly less overwhelmed than he had expected her to be, or else much better at hiding distress than anyone else he knew. Three people around her all looked like family, and seemed to be vetting who was allowed through to shake her hand and who was not. Raul started to make his way towards them. He was only a few steps away when a shriek echoed through the hall and the crowd in front of him suddenly thinned. Everyone turned to the far corner, where a dark-haired, full-figured woman was shaking in anger and pushing past the staring mass.
“Amna Zampieri! What are you doing? Step away from that man at once!”
Mrs. Freja Zampieri shoved aside a slack-jawed Howell Sullivan, which cleared Raul’s view of the scene. He laughed so loudly that half the room turned to him instead. The Randolphs beside him snickered quietly, too. In the far corner, Nehemiah was being kissed. There was no other way to describe the situation accurately. Amna was a good four inches taller and had swept herself over him, one hand on the back of his head, and the other draped along his lower back, temptingly hidden from view. For once, Nehemiah’s dark skin could not hide his embarrassment, and what Raul could see of his friend’s face was a deep maroon color. Nehemiah appeared to be trying to tap Amna’s shoulder or gently pull away to address her mother, but Amna stoutly ignored them both. She held Nehemiah close, and kissed him open mouthed. Her body was positioned to block her mother’s view of who she was kissing, but Raul, off to the left a little, could see her knee pressed between Nehemiah’s legs, which were shaking badly.
“They make a good couple, don’t they?”
Raul jumped. Advisor Randolph was smirking beside him, craning her neck slightly for a better view. Raul stepped right for her, and she grinned. “Friends of yours?”
“Close friends, though rather closer to each other, now, I think,” he whispered back.
“I can see that.”
“Amna!” Freja Zampieri spat again. She grabbed her daughter’s elbow and wrenched it away so that Amna was forced to break off the kiss. She gave Nehemiah a gentle smile and long blink as they parted. Nehemiah managed a sort of stiff nod in return. “Amna, you are engaged!”
“I might be, at that,” Amna said, much more quietly. She kept her eyes half turned back to Nehemiah and avoided her mother as much as she was able.
“Do not embarrass us this way, do you hear? What have you had to drink?”
“One cider, courtesy of His Majesty.” Raul felt his cheeks heat up and saw Advisor Randolph turn her smirk to him in the corner of his vision. “I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing, mother. You have always told me to take opportunity as it comes, yes? Opportunity for attractive, intelligent men will soon pass me by. I thought I’d try another.”
Freja Zampieri sputtered and stammered incoherently as she dragged her daughter away. Amna turned her head back to Nehemiah once more, and mouthed what looked like “thank you” his direction. He nodded again, more smoothly, and raised a glass to her. She smiled, and, slowly facing forward, caught Raul’s eye long enough to wink.
* * *
Three weeks passed before Nehemiah heard anything more of Amna Zampieri. His repeated attempts to ask Raul about her had been almost completely rebuffed. Raul, to his credit, had been very busy trying to get his three advisors to work together, a task made suddenly more difficult than it had been before by Advisor Randolph’s unwillingness to let Advisor Merkal’s seniority sway her opinions. Most days, Nehemiah hadn’t even seen his friend. Tonight, he would get answers, however. He had already told Raul that they were going out, and he was purchasing as many drinks as it took to get Raul’s mind off of politics and onto personal matters. Raul had heartily agreed to this.
Nehemiah was on his way to lunch, turning off the main corridor of the palace into the academy, when the sight of a tall, dark-haired, full figured woman stopped him mid-step. He tripped, and quickly tried to stand up straighter while his cheeks burned. Though he had very clear memories of Amna Zampieri’s face, Nehemiah had somehow not noticed before exactly how attractive he found her. He bit his lip in concentration, stared at his feet, and attempted to shuffle sideways past her.
“Please, I have an appointment scheduled,” Amna said.
“The interview for this afternoon was for a Ms. Zampieri,” a professor grumbled irritably from the other side of the open doorway. “I received word from the Zampieri household yesterday that the interview would not be taking place.”
“But—”
“In fact, I was told that there was no longer a Ms. Zampieri at all.” Silence echoed in the corridor so sharply that Nehemiah stopped moving and found himself looking up into Amna’s face before he could stop himself. She was shaking in anger.
“Mr. Sapp—”
“My dear young woman, I do not know exactly what has occurred here, and I am sorry for your situation, whatever it may be, but clearly something larger than the academy is at stake here, and we will not be entangled in the mess.”
“Miss Zampieri!” Nehemiah found himself shouting. Amna turned his way with a jolt, and Mr. Sapporan of the alchemy department at the academy stuck his head out of his office door. “I didn’t realize you’d be in town again so soon. I had hoped to catch up to you after the appointment ceremony, but was pulled away by work, I’m afraid. Are you well?”
“Quite, thank you, Mr. Smedley,” Amna said coolly. She narrowed her eyes, and seemed to be silently asking him just what he thought he was doing. Trying his best to suppress a gulp, Nehemiah turned to Mr. Sapporan. The huffy little professor was much less intimidating than the woman beside him.
“Mr. Sapporan, I believe I heard you say last week that the department was hiring? Has the position been filled yet?”
“It— we—“ he puffed indignantly, “the interviews for candidacy are ongoing.”
“Do you have an interest in alchemy, Ms. Zampieri?” Nehemiah asked. He didn’t quite have the courage to meet Amna’s gaze as he did so, however, and continued to focus on the trembling Mr. Sapporan.
“I have a degree in it,” Amna returned, her voice low.
“Really? Raul hadn’t mentioned,” Nehemiah continued as Mr. Sapporan frowned. “I’ll have to keep pestering him at the tavern tonight. Join us? We’ll be leaving from the front courtyard at nine.”
“Delightful,” said Amna without sounding pleased in the slightest. “I’ll be sure to see you there.”
“I’ll let you get on with the interview, then. Good to see you both.” Nehemiah bowed his head, and positively ran to the dining hall, certain that his face was aflame with embarrassment.
He spent the rest of the day doing his level best to run into Raul, and utterly failed. He found, individually, all three Royal Advisors, the dean of the Royal Academy, most of the staff, all of the palace guards, and several people he was relatively certain he’d never seen before, but there was no sign of his friend anywhere. It wasn’t until nearly nine, standing alone and shivering slightly in the courtyard that he discovered why.
“Not late am I?” Raul panted, sprinting up.
“No, but where have you been all day? I almost sent you a message by magic to try finding you,” asked Nehemiah. Raul rolled his eyes.
“Sorry, I’ve been up to my neck in records since I got up this morning. Favor for an old friend in need. Shall we walk and talk?”
“Actually—”
“May I still join?”
Amna walked out of the front doors just as Nehemiah was about to bring up the fact that he’d invited her. Raul did not appear surprised by her presence at all.
“I was hoping to catch you. Did you get here in time for the interview?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t have mattered, as I apparently canceled it yesterday and then ceased to exist, according to Jacob Sapporan,” Amna growled. “Thank you for stepping in when you did, Mr. Smedley. It allowed me to stick my foot in the door.”
“You are most welcome. Shall we?” Nehemiah indicated the open gates, and Raul took Amna’s arm to lead the way.
“I was able to locate your records finally. I’ve passed them in to the Academy board. What do you mean, you’ve ceased to exist, though?” Raul went on in a hushed voice that Nehemiah had to concentrate to hear.
“I’ve been disowned quicker than I thought,” Amna grumbled.
“Disowned? Truly?” Raul asked.
“Truly. My parents aren’t playing coy anymore, it seems. I’ve already been kicked out of the house, erased from the will, and stripped of title. I’m just Amna, now. Mr. Smedley was kind enough to refer to me by my former surname, which was enough to force Sapporan to let me into my own interview.”
“Did you know to do that?” Raul grinned over to Nehemiah.
“It felt like a good idea,” Nehemiah shrugged. Raul shook Amna’s shoulder gently.
“See, instinctive, like I told you.”
“Quite,” Amna agreed. She looked Nehemiah over slowly with her soft smile. Nehemiah had to watch the road to keep his face even. “As I said before, though, it will not be easy.”
“Tactics rarely are, in my experience,” Raul laughed. “This will be worth the struggle. Can I count on you to stay in Kingston with us, Amna?”
“I have nowhere to go for the moment. I was expecting another two weeks in Sudapor, but fear I’ll find a wedding carriage waiting for me at the gates. Right now, I’m trying to be untraceable until I have the means to support myself,” Amna sighed.
“Do you have a place to stay?” asked Raul. “I can probably set aside an academy dorm for personal use for a while…”
“I have a couch,” Nehemiah heard himself say. His cheeks and neck burned and he tried to bite his tongue as it went on without his consent. “I could sleep on it for a few weeks should you need immediate housing.” He tried to control his instinct to wince, and kept his gaze straight ahead to the tavern a few blocks away as Raul and Amna stared at him.
“That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Raul chuckled after a few steps of awkward silence.
“Well, you’re certainly correct that he isn’t an ass, Raul,” Amna murmured. “Quite the gentleman, indeed. Perhaps just until a dormitory could be secured? If your offer is serious.”
“Certainly, any way I can help,” said Nehemiah, finally turning to meet Amna’s look. She had one eyebrow raised over her smile. Raul was grinning broadly beside her, and gave Nehemiah a very mischievous wink. Nehemiah tried to glare at him subtly, but Amna’s smile broadened as he did. Raul held the tavern door for Amna, and waved Nehemiah in after, but put his hand on his friend’s shoulder as he walked past and whispered in his ear, “Smitten, are you? I’m buying drinks until you’re both under the table if you keep that up.”
“I’m not flirting, Raul,” Nehemiah grumbled back.
“Not intentionally, maybe,” Raul smirked. “I’ve known Amna most of my life, though primarily by letters for the last decade or so. You’ll get on. I’ll take my time getting that dorm, yeah?”
“No, Raul!” Nehemiah hissed, but Raul had already sauntered to the bar, and was calling out orders for the three of them. Amna settled herself at a table and indicated the seat beside her with a long blink and a wave. Nehemiah hid what he could of his gulp with a smile, and sat there.
“Thank you for your offer, Mr. Smedley,” she started.
“Please, Ms. Zampieri, call me Nehemiah.”
“On your insistence,” she said smoothly. “But you must call me Amna, particularly given the current status of my surname.”
“Certainly. I did not mean to…”
“There are no hard feelings. Fear not, I’m difficult to offend.”
“Or just difficult, depending on who you’re talking to,” Raul grinned, returning with full hands. He put the drinks in the center of the table, and sat across from them, then put his chin gleefully in his hands. Nehemiah and Amna both took long, silent sips while avoiding his smile.
“Do you want to keep flirting, or shall I change the subject?” asked Raul after a minute of this. Nehemiah glared at him, and from the corner of his eye saw Amna do the same. Raul laughed heartily. “Oh, you will get on well! Fine, fine, I wanted to discuss things with each of you, anyway.”
“Start there,” Amna grumbled, tipping her drink towards Nehemiah. “I want to nurse this for a bit.”
“On your insistence,” Raul beamed. “So, Nehemiah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“Regarding?” Nehemiah replied hesitantly. Raul was looking back and forth equally between his two friends, regardless of who he was addressing, and Nehemiah got the sudden impression that Amna already knew what he was going to say.
“Regarding Merkal.”
“What do I have to do with Advisor Merkal?” asked Nehemiah. “I’ve hardly ever spoken ten words to the man.”
“Merkal is in something of a tiff with Pickett Randolph. She’s refusing to listen to him, thank goodness, but he’s decided to up the ante by getting an assistant to make sure his views keep being heard,” Raul explained.
“Between yourself and Advisor Randolph, isn’t that enough to stall Merkal from accomplishing anything?” Nehemiah pointed out. “That’s the purpose of having multiple Advisors, isn’t it?”
“Not when Hotspur’s opinion is the tipping point,” Raul replied, his face falling into a scowl.
“Merkal wants to invade Norstoan.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“I know that, and you know that, and Pickett Randolph knows that, and Amna here knows everything, so you can stop looking to her for confirmation, Nehemiah,” Raul retorted. Nehemiah’s face flushed and he turned back to Raul.
“I don’t picture Hotspur as being a war-monger,” he said.
“Generally, he wouldn’t be,” agreed Raul. “If this were Libanira, then I wouldn’t be concerned, but Norstoan is still, let’s say, skittish regarding magic and casters. Hotspur takes an interest there.”
“Martial interest?”
“If that’s what Merkal is proposing as a solution. Hotspur hasn’t come up with anything better and wants to do something. Pickett’s working on alternatives, but it’s just not our place, and without international consensus and pressure, there’s not much we can do,” Raul sighed.
“I’m going to ask again what this has to do with me,” Nehemiah said warily. He put his drink down, as he had a feeling that that he might soon have the impulse to drop it or spit it out.
“How’s your Norste faring these days?”
Nehemiah choked on his own breath. He pushed his drink to one side and leaned across the table. Raul echoed the motion so that Nehemiah could comfortably whisper. Amna rested her elbows on the table to listen in.
“You’re going to nominate me?” Nehemiah hissed as loudly as he dared. Raul nodded.
“You just said Merkal’s selected an assistant! How am I supposed to get in his good graces?”
“I have no intentions of signing off on the appointment, and Pickett’s with me,” Raul replied. “That’s all we need. Merkal only gets to provide the paperwork. He doesn’t get a real vote.”
“So I need to get on Pickett Randolph’s good side? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Smart as a whip, you are,” Raul grinned. “Pickett’s good. I think I like her better than Hotspur, actually. Certainly better than old Bordone. You’ll like her the minute you get a chance to hold a real conversation with her. She’s come a long way since that first academy course we had.”
“And then what?” Nehemiah sputtered. “I’ll have no training for this, Merkal will make things as difficult as he can, while the rest of the world looks on, and we flounder for stability within our own borders — Raul, this will be madness!”
“Well at least he understands the seriousness of the situation,” Amna muttered, glowering at Raul.
“I thought I had your vote of confidence in this,” Raul grumbled back.
“I have no control over the Zampieri voice, as it were. Consensus was not reached.” Amna leaned back and returned to her drink. Raul rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Nehemiah again.
“Raul, listen, this will invite invasion,” Nehemiah argued. “Especially if Merkal is truly picking a fight with Norstoan, they’ll be eager for a chance to silence us—“
“Which is why I need you with me!” Raul interrupted. “I don’t trust anyone else to negotiate this properly. You’ve attended ambassadorial meetings with Norste officers for six years now. What more training are you looking for? Most of the lords know you by name.”
“As an errand boy!”
“It’s more than they know of Hawken Tanner,” Raul continued over Nehemiah’s protests.
“Please, Nehemiah. I need you in this. I need someone I can trust at my side. I can’t go on trying to make those three get along for the rest of my life. Ampany will fall if it comes to that.”
“That outcome I can vouch for,” Amna agreed darkly.
“It’s only been three weeks since Pickett’s appointment, and Merkal’s already threatening to die on post to make sure she doesn’t ‘go soft’ on ‘the enemy’, nevermind that we’re trade partners with the very people he wants to wage war on,” groaned Raul. “At this rate, it’ll be enough to survive the rest of his term. I’m not accepting an appointment of his hand-selected mouthpiece. Nehemiah, I need you. I need your help in this.”
“Royal order?” Nehemiah grumbled into his glass.
“A friend’s plea for help.”
“That’s low,” Nehemiah snorted. Raul sighed deeply and took hold of his drink again. Nehemiah allowed himself a minute to stare into the last bits of foam on his glass. He could feel Amna watching him, and suddenly wondered what had possessed him to invite her along. It hardly mattered now. She wasn’t hurting anything, and her presence was keeping him from shouting back at Raul. Nehemiah knew he would regret it if he argued too fiercely with his friend.
“What do you need me to do specifically?” he finally sighed. “To prepare for this?”
“I need you to get fluent in Norste,” Raul said quietly. “You’re close already, I know. And I need you to speak up in those meetings. You’ve got the ambassador title. Use it. Make your presence known to every Norste official.”
“And then?”
“In three years, if Merkal’s still harping on war, and you are feeling confident, I’m placing you in charge of the national forces.”
Nehemiah inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
“I’ll pick swordwork back up, then, too.”
“Thank you,” Raul smiled. “I know this won’t be easy. I’ll smooth the way for you wherever I can, but the reason I need you is because I’m powerless here. Mind, that is the general idea of the Advisors, keeping me in check, but I can’t spend all my time babysitting their arguments. I need a voice I can trust in there. I like Pickett, but she’s still a wild card, and Hotspur has proven conservative in ways I don’t always agree with. Merkal’s the leading voice now, and he’ll lead us straight to war. If it’s a minor scandal versus a full-on northern battle, I’ll take the scandal.”
“And if in three years Merkal’s not fighting anymore?” asked Nehemiah.
“Then he’s dead and you’ll be taking over,” Raul said, forcing a grin that didn’t hide his worried expression. “It’s a little more controversial that way, but try talking to Pickett and Hotspur more. If it’s a unanimous vote, well, the country will come round.” He lifted his glass and looked to Nehemiah and Amna hopefully.
“To Ampany, may her Advisors not all kill each other in the coming years.”
“Fortune aid us all,” Nehemiah grumbled as he and Amna clinked their empty glasses with Raul’s.
* * *
An hour or so later, Amna said good evening to Raul and followed Nehemiah Smedley down the street away from the palace gates. She was feeling rather self-satisfied in having utterly distracted Raul from asking her further about how her defection would affect Zampieri support for the Tordault line. The subject would come up again, but it was sore and uncertain for the moment, and she would rather not think about it until she absolutely had to. It did not seem likely that the crown was in danger of a revolution from Sudapor.
Nehemiah Smedley lived in a part of Kingston that Amna was not familiar with. The cobbled streets, so smooth and intricate near the palace, were rough here, and the buildings made of more wood than stone. It occurred to her, for the first time, that the move from Sudapor had not left his family very wealthy. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding when he unlocked the door to an upper-level flat to reveal an empty room beyond.
“Yes, I live alone,” Nehemiah muttered, a little tersely. “I would have mentioned in my offer if I did not.”
“My apologies,” Amna said gently. “Offense was not intended.” Nehemiah sighed and began to take off his shoes beside the door.
“Mine as well. I am tenser than I would like to be as a host. I was expecting a more light-hearted visit to the tavern this evening.”
“I am surprised Raul hasn’t brought this up with you before,” Amna said, slipping her shoes off as well.
“How long have you known?”
“That is something of a loaded question,” Amna retorted. Nehemiah furrowed his brow.
“How long since Raul told you he was planning this?”
“Much better. You’re a quick student,” said Amna with a nod. “He first mentioned the idea at his birthright, but I think it’s been on his mind longer than that. Perhaps since he met you.”
“We were only thirteen,” Nehemiah chortled. “Water?”
“Please,” Amna said. She sat down on the couch, wincing at how uncomfortable it was, and watched him pull two clean glasses from an orderly shelf. “Speaking as someone who has grown up with familial expectations, we are always on the lookout for allies. And given how much Bordone and Merkal fought, I expect Raul has been eagerly awaiting the day he can replace them both for many years.”
“How long have you known each other?”
“I was seven when we met. Raul was three. I last saw him at his birthright, however. We don’t get out of Sudapor much.”
Nehemiah handed Amna her glass and tried to settle himself comfortably on the arm of the couch opposite her. It poked into his leg, and he winced trying to keep his balance on the wood frame. Amna raised her eyebrow at him.
“I am not so easily offended,” she said pointedly. Nehemiah inclined his head to her and slid down to the couch proper. It sagged a bit in the middle, and Nehemiah leaned back towards the arm to keep his face a reasonable distance from hers. Amna smiled at him again. They sat silently drinking their water for a few minutes while Amna waited for Nehemiah’s curiosity to overwhelm his restraint. It took quite a bit longer than she expected and, when he spoke, he did not ask the question she was expecting.
“Why me?”
“Why has Raul chosen you, or why did I?” Amna asked.
“You, if I may,” Nehemiah said, still not looking at her. “I will ask Raul himself about his choices when that opportunity presents itself.”
“Well, that’s straightforward of you. Good,” Amna replied. “Regarding your query, I already knew I would. I find it best not to fight fate.” Nehemiah laughed quietly.
“You could just say it was a whim. I don’t offend so easily, either,” he retorted. Amna put her glass on the floor and leaned over to him.
“What do you know of my family, Mr. Smedley?”
“Stories, mostly,” Nehemiah said, caught enough off guard to lean back against the arm of the couch, away from Amna’s face.
“Go on.”
“Clairvoyance in the Governor’s House, the lack of fealty to the crown, it’s all old tales. I’m sure you’ve dismissed them before,” he stammered. Amna studied his face, trying to find fear or anger, and was pleased to see neither. There was doubt there, certainly, and a fair bit of confusion, but those would be easily cleared, and held little danger in a man who had already proven quick wittedness.
“And if I were to tell you that I have not?”
“I would ask when the last time you left the Governor’s House was, because it can’t have been often.”
Amna smiled. Nehemiah’s brows knit more deeply, but he leaned back to her slightly, shifting his weight so the couch wouldn’t tilt them any closer together as he did.
“I have not refuted those rumors because they are true,” Amna said. Nehemiah’s mouth started to fall open, but he caught it quickly. “Clairvoyance runs in my family. Historically, we have been seers for the crown. It is not an easy trait to master, so we all record our visions, and form a consensus on likely events based on those records. We are not sworn to the crown, as per ancient settlement, but thus neither may we hold any Advisor position, as we are not full citizens of this country.”
“But if you’ve been disowned…” Nehemiah started, his face opening in understanding.
“I do not believe Raul will change his choice, and I would not support such a plot in any case. It feels dishonest, and I would not trust myself. Instead, I seek to remain by his side, to keep an eye on my brother as he inherits the Governor’s House, and to give what guidance I am able.”
Amna watched Nehemiah’s face closely as he spent a moment deciding on his questions. It was neither surprising nor upsetting that he was bursting with things to ask, though Amna was quite glad that he took care in selecting his words. She doubted that he could offend her terribly, but the thought he gave to her personal feelings was not something that Amna was accustomed to, and she found it touching. Her smile broadened as his cheeks flushed when his mind inevitably went where anyone’s mind would go, given their introduction. He turned back to his water and took a long gulp, while crossing his legs.
“Did you… know I was going to offer my flat?”
“Even I get surprised sometimes,” Amna responded lightly. “Thank you for making this surprise a pleasant one.” Nehemiah nodded shakily.
“Ah, well, you can see the kitchen there, and this is the sitting area, where I’ll spend the next… however long Raul takes. The door on the left there is a washroom and the one on the right is the bed—”
“Show me?” Amna interrupted. It wasn’t nice, and she knew it, but it was terribly fun to watch Nehemiah stumble stiffly to his feet, turning to hide his face and front from her. She followed him much more closely than she needed to. He opened the door and stepped inside and to the right quickly to let her in. A rickety nightstand and sturdy trunk lay along one wall, with a mirror on the next. The bed was smaller than Amna had hoped, but she suspected that it had not had the need to host two before now. Nehemiah beside her was trying to think of something to say, but coming up short. She took pity on him this time.
“This will do fine,” she said gently. “Thank you very kindly.”
“Any way I can be of help, as I said,” Nehemiah replied. “Shall I—?”
“One more favor, if I may be bold?” Amna interrupted. Nehemiah turned to her a little too quickly and found himself much closer to her than he had expected. His little gasp of surprise was very well hidden, but made her smile again anyway. “I find myself looking at an opportunity. You’ve pleasantly surprised me several times today.”
“Miss… Amna?”
“I have a proposition for you, Nehemiah Smedley,” she grinned. Nehemiah bit his lower lip, but met Amna’s eyes, and she was suddenly quite certain, without any vision, that she knew how this would eventually go. “Join me. Let’s misbehave.”