“You can use my bath,” Dyraien said to Hona.
Hona shook her head. “Not before I see him.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a horrible idea, but I’m going to see him.”
Dyraien shrugged. “Very well. But behave yourself.”
Though Tahki wasn’t invited, he followed as Dyraien took her to Rye’s workroom. If they minded his company, they said nothing.
The overturned boat blocked part of the doorway. Tahki startled when Dyraien spun around, grabbed his shoulder, and pushed him not so gently into the room first. Rye was reading a newspaper at his table but looked up when Tahki stumbled in. Their eyes met, and Rye grinned. Tahki smiled back. But then Rye’s face twisted into a horrible frown.
“I don’t get a smile?” Hona said.
Tahki stepped out of the way.
Hona touched the underside of the boat. “Looks nice. Think she’ll be water-ready by next spring?”
“Get out,” Rye said. “Get the fuck out of here.”
The hatred in Rye’s voice surprised him. He’d never heard Rye use foul language before, not even when they’d gone to see Zinc.
“Let’s keep it civil,” Dyraien said.
Rye stood and faced him. “You did this on purpose.”
“What ever do you mean?” Dyraien asked.
“You knew what bringing her here would do to me.”
Dyraien held up his hands and repressed a grin, like he got some pleasure out of this. “She insisted. There was nothing I could do.”
“Come on, Rye,” Hona said. “We all work together. I’m trying my hardest to make amends. Why can’t you do the same?”
Rye barked a cold laugh. “You want me to be more like you?”
Hona stepped forward. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did.” Rye’s voice was steady now. “All right. I’ll be more like you.” He laid the newspaper on the table, pushed in his chair, and walked gracefully out of the room without looking back. A moment later, Tahki heard the front door open and close.
Tahki made to go after him, but Dyraien grabbed his arm.
“Trust me,” Dyraien said. “You don’t want to be around him when he’s like this.”
“Why?”
Dyraien released him. “Help me with dinner. We’ll prepare something nice for Hona. And then we three can sit down and have a talk.”
TAHKI WATCHED Dyraien slice a row of carrots in a series of quick jabs. The tick of the knife against the wooden cutting board was the only sound in the kitchen. His skin felt clammy from standing over a steaming pot of boiling potatoes. The scent of honeyed pork filled his nose. Dyraien had done most of the work preparing the meal. He chopped every vegetable with a kind of showy elegance, as though a court full of people watched and applauded him. His fingers moved almost too rapidly to follow. Once, he threw a potato in the air and it landed across the blade of his knife directly in the middle.
Tahki wondered exactly how much of his upbringing had been traditional. Did Dyraien know how to sword fight and shoot a pistol? Could he dance? Hunt? Did he know about taxes and diplomacy?
The potatoes bobbed up and down. Tahki swirled them around the hot water with a spoon. He didn’t mind helping with dinner. A month ago he might have, but he found a certain satisfaction in these small tasks. He also found Dyraien’s kitchen tricks and princely smiles charming, and at that moment, he felt guilty for suspecting Dyraien had something to do with the Zinc incident.
“You like to stare when you think no one’s looking,” Dyraien said.
Tahki moved his eyes back to the potatoes.
“It’s all right,” Dyraien said. It sounded like he was smiling. “I don’t mind you staring at me. I’d like to know you better, Tahki. I’d like to know about your family. Your upbringing. What you want out of life.”
“I want to complete the castle,” Tahki said.
Dyraien laughed. “It’s comforting to know you share my goal.”
“I’m sure Rye shares it too.”
Dyraien stopped cutting. “Rye doesn’t know what he wants.”
It seemed pompous to speak for Rye, but Tahki didn’t dare challenge him. Dyraien had known Rye for almost ten years.
“Your ears must have been itching,” Dyraien said.
Tahki peeked up at Dyraien, but his eyes were focused on the door. Rye slouched into the kitchen. He leaned forward slightly, shoulders tense, dark circles under his eyes. He stood across from Dyraien.
“Can we talk?” Rye said to the prince.
“You know you never have to ask,” Dyraien said. He glanced at Tahki. “Will you run and fetch flour from the dry storage?”
It was an obvious busy chore. If they had wanted privacy, they could have just asked. But Tahki obeyed and left the room. Instead of fetching the flour, however, he slid into the room next door. He didn’t want to spy on them, but he needed to know more about Dyraien and Rye if he wanted to figure out the mysteries of the castle. At least that’s what he told himself.
A thumb-sized hole cracked the wall where he could see into the kitchen. Tahki pressed his eye against the smooth obsidian. It cooled his forehead and sent a brief chill across his face.
“You’re angry with me,” Dyraien said. He diced a clove of garlic without looking at it.
Rye slid into a chair and rubbed his temples. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you dwell and brood and mope like it pays to be depressed. If I had told you Hona planned to arrive early, you would have gone to stay in Edgewater, and I need you to keep working here.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make.”
“I hired Hona because I thought it would be good for you,” Dyraien said. “You’re not the only one with a shitty childhood, you know.”
“I will not make amends with her,” Rye said. “So stop interfering.”
Tahki had never heard anyone talk to a prince that way. What surprised him more, Dyraien didn’t seem upset by his tone.
“And you call me a stubborn ass,” Dyraien said.
“You know
