Sornjia studied him. Dyraien wore fine white clothing, his hair and skin washed clean. He stood with such elegant posture, Sornjia had to know who he was.
“Dyraien,” Sornjia said slowly, as though testing the water before jumping in. “Prince Dyraien.”
“I thought we were beyond formalities.”
Sornjia set the plate in the sink. “I had to get away from the castle a moment. Helping the elderly clears my mind.”
Dyraien squinted at him. They looked identical. Even their father had trouble telling them apart by appearance only. But Dyraien was so observant. A few days ago, he’d asked why Tahki had changed the thickness of graphite in his pencil, when even Tahki hadn’t noticed he’d accidentally switched to a lighter tone. The prince’s perceptiveness had impressed him then. Now it terrified him.
Tahki held his breath.
“I see,” Dyraien said at last. He seemed to relax a little. “I’m happy I ran into you here. I’d like a word, if you have a moment between scrubbing fish guts off the counter.”
Sornjia stood still. “We could talk back at the castle.” Tahki could hear the strain in his voice, how he tried hard to speak the way Tahki spoke.
Dyraien fluttered his hand dismissively. “Here is fine.” He took a step closer. “I owe you an apology. My behavior the other day was uncalled for.”
Tahki hadn’t told Sornjia about his design error.
Sornjia didn’t break eye contact with Dyraien. “Everyone has moments when they feel mice skittering across their mind. Sometimes it’s like they chew through the wrinkles of your brain and make you say and do things you don’t mean to.”
Dyraien stared. His lips parted slightly, brow furrowed.
Tahki was doomed.
“Well,” Dyraien said. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
Sornjia smiled. “No storm can rage on forever.”
Dyraien studied Sornjia more intently than Tahki would have liked. “Are you quite all right? You’re acting… strange. And did you change your clothing from this morning?”
“I fell in the mud and had to change.” Sornjia rubbed his left wrist the way Tahki did. “I guess the stress has made my mind foggy.”
Dyraien nodded. “Of course.” He reached out and rested his hand on Sornjia’s shoulder. “And I’m partly to blame for that, I know. How frightened you must have been by my little outburst. Try to understand, Mother has been particularly bad as of late. Her tantrums are growing more violent. It hurts my heart to see her in such a state.”
“Mothers are delicate things. As children it’s hard to understand, but they break just like the rest of us.”
“Yes. They do.” Dyraien reached up and traced his thumb across Sornjia’s cheek. It was the kind of flirtatious gesture he’d performed a dozen times, when he’d bring Tahki gifts or visit him throughout the day. A small hug. A kind caress. A crooked smile. Tahki had never minded. He’d enjoyed the attention, the kind of affection that didn’t require anything in return, just small moments of feeling important.
“What are you doing?” Sornjia said.
“What do you mean?”
Tahki silently begged Sornjia to just leave. Walk out of the house, say he had to get back to work.
“You’re petting me like I’m a dog,” Sornjia said.
Dyraien’s smile faltered. “I’m only being friendly.” He removed his hand and ran it through his hair, pink coloring his cheeks. It was the first time Tahki had seen Dyraien blush.
“You should be careful, being friendly like that,” Sornjia said. “Some people might take it the wrong way.”
“What if I intended it to be taken the wrong way?” Dyraien said. Some certainty seeped back into his voice.
Sornjia gave him a patient smile. “If the moon only rose on intentions, the tides would never flow.”
Again, Dyraien could only stare, probably caught between confusion and slight disbelief. It had taken years for Tahki to decipher Sornjia, and even now he had difficulty. Maybe, if they got out of this situation without being discovered, he could convince Dyraien he’d been drunk, or accidentally eaten a mushroom he’d found under a rock, or been dream walking. He’d read some people could carry on entire conversations in their sleep.
Thankfully, Dyraien pulled out a piece of paper from his coat pocket and said, “You seem busy, so I won’t keep you. I came here to drop off order details. I need some very specific minerals ordered.”
“And you need me to order them?”
Dyraien laughed a little. “No, no. Better leave this task to someone a little more experienced.”
Tahki frowned. How would Dyraien know if he was experienced or not? Had his encounter the day before shown that he couldn’t be trusted with a simple task?
Sornjia nodded, and Tahki felt annoyed. He wished Sornjia would have told Dyraien he was capable, or that he had lots of experience filling orders. How difficult could it be to drop off a piece of paper?
“I’m leaving these for Gale,” Dyraien said. “Our supplier, Zinc, can be a little rough around the edges. He runs a gambling house in Edgewater, and not in the best part of town. I only want Gale doing business dealings with him.”
Sornjia shivered, no doubt having one of his bad feelings. Luckily, he said in a straightforward tone, “Will Gale be safe?”
Dyraien grinned. “Your compassion is noble, but don’t look so grim. Though we must go through less-than-reputable channels to attain some of our supplies in a timely manner, Gale has worked with far more unstable people. She can handle herself quite well.”
Dyraien walked to the table and placed the order details beside a wooden fruit bowl. Then he stuck his hand back in his pocket and retrieved a handful of blue rectangular paper. It took Tahki a moment to realize they were Vatolok notes. The country had recently integrated paper money into their markets to save their copper, silver, and gold supplies.
Dyraien faced Sornjia. “I trust I’ll see you back at the castle once you’ve cleared your mind.”
Sornjia gave him a startlingly kind smile. “You can trust me as a fish trusts a stream to carry it to sea.”
A final look of
