CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The twenty-twos were gathered in their common room, drinking tea and laughing. Like most common rooms, it was filled with a haphazard collection of furniture—couches and chairs and settees most likely cast off from some household, or purchased with Family credits and then used until it looked cast-off.

Although some had their backs to him, Mikael counted ten women gathered there, along with a half dozen children too young for yeargroups, and two young men. All wore casual garb—loose pants probably retired from the sparring floor, shirts old enough to be gray, some with their sleeves cut out. Sweaters and socks for some of them, the colder-natured among the yeargroup. A long, low table was cluttered with teacups, and one of the toddlers tried to grab one kept just out of reach. A large urn safely set aside on a tall stand kept the hot tea safe from grasping little hands. One of the young women brushed out another’s hair, preparatory to braiding it. That girl eyed Mikael for a moment.

He stood at the end of their hallway, waiting for someone to give him permission to step over the guideline that divided the main corridor from the individual hall. He could walk in there, claiming that it was a matter pertinent to the Daujom, but he didn’t see Jannika among that group, and he didn’t want to annoy them by being high-handed. And it wasn’t legitimately Daujom business anyway. He just wanted information on Kai.

One of the young women prodded another with a bare foot. “Isn’t that Jannika’s current?”

Mikael felt a dull flash of surprise, followed by a brief surge of panic. He did his best to quash his reaction but had no doubt it was felt since a handful of the group’s members began to laugh. He might have initiated this renewed friendship with Jannika, but he’d done so to gather information. He hadn’t expected her to try to court him. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be her current, however that was meant.

The woman doing the braiding swiveled about so she could see him, and Mikael recognized Iselin. After muttering something indistinct to the other young woman, Iselin rose and wended her way through the ragtag furniture, while he counted in his head to get his emotions under control.

When she stood a few feet away, Iselin acknowledged him with a mere lift of her chin. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to Jannika.”

Iselin shook her head. She didn’t look displeased to see him, but she didn’t look pleased either. “Duty. She switched with one of the twenty-fives, took evening in Three Above.”

That translated into going back up two flights of stairs, up the grand stair to the palace, and then up another two flights to the third floor of the palace. And then he had to find her on that third floor. “Quarterguard duty?”

Iselin folded her arms over her chest. “Yes.”

“Thank you, then,” he said from the other side of the line. “That’s all I needed.”

Iselin nodded once and walked away, rejoining the cozy group in their evening’s sit-down. Jannika might have invited him to come have tea with her yeargroup, but Iselin wasn’t going to extend the same invitation. So Mikael made his way from Three Down all the way back up, contemplating what it meant that they apparently considered him Jannika’s current. Since she was on quarterguard duty, Jannika would be near the king’s quarters, or his consort’s—on the other end of the palace. Unfortunately, all the quarterguards were sensitives, so he had to work even harder to keep his reactions under control there.

He paused in the stairwell to catch his breath. When he stepped out onto the third floor, the quarterguard there looked down his long nose at Mikael but didn’t question his presence—the Daujom had access to all parts of the palace at any time. Mikael just walked on, thinking calm thoughts at each sentry as he passed. He finally spotted Jannika near the turn to the king’s quarters, staring stonily off at the far wall.

When he stopped a few feet away, she glanced both ways, possibly to discern whether the other quarterguards were ones likely to report her speaking to him while on duty, and only then did she look at him. On duty, her face was impassive, so he had no idea whether she was pleased to see him or not. “What are you doing up here?” she whispered.

“Still hunting information,” he admitted.

He saw a hint of a frown that quickly passed. “About Kai?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

The quarterguard stationed on the other side of the turn into the king’s quarters watched them now, although surely he couldn’t overhear them.

Jannika sighed. “There was a rumor that he’s not Dahar’s son. That was the gossip that went around.”

Mikael felt his brows rise, even as he tried to quell his disbelief. Kai looked too much like Dahar to be anything other than his son, even if his eye color was different.

“Yes, I know,” Jannika said as if he’d spoken aloud. “You asked; I dug up the rumor. That doesn’t mean it’s true. All it means is that someone said it, and it got back to Kai’s ears.”

And what was important was whether Kai believed it, and whether it bothered him enough to have set off his most recent spell of ill temper. Mikael took a deep breath, tucking away that information so he could contemplate it later, where there weren’t sentries standing about with nothing better to do than eavesdrop on his reactions. “Thank you, then. I owe you.”

She didn’t move from her post, but leaned closer. “I could come by your quarters after my shift and we could discuss my payment.”

His flash of surprise provoked that nearest quarterguard to click his tongue at him. He hadn’t been fast enough to quash it. There was no misconstruing Jannika’s offer this time, though. She would go off duty in the early hours of the morning, when he planned to be sound asleep and, he hoped, not dreaming. “Perhaps tomorrow evening,” he said instead. “If you’re not on duty.”

Her lips twisted—disappointment, he decided—and then her face went still again. “Dinner, then?”

At this point, he was free for dinner tomorrow. “As long as my work doesn’t interfere.”

She completely broke her impassiveness by rolling her eyes. “Always work. Good night, Mikael.”

And so he was dismissed. Mikael wished her an uneventful shift and headed back the way he’d come, counting his steps to keep his mind clear of emotion.

It wasn’t until he was in his quarters one level lower—and on the opposite side of the palace—that he allowed himself to contemplate that brief discussion. He changed out of his uniform, wondering why Jannika had suddenly developed such a strong interest in him.

They had been involved before, but it had been, from the beginning, a casual relationship. They had agreed on that explicitly. When she’d decided to drop him, he hadn’t been heartbroken. Given the amount of time she’d been spending with the twenty-fives, he’d guessed it was coming. Now it seemed she’d decided she wanted to renew that arrangement, and possibly more. Apparently others in her yeargroup knew that too, although his sitting with her in the mess a few days before might have been enough to inform them.

While it was pleasing to know she fancied him enough to defy her closest friend’s aversion to him, he wasn’t sure why Jannika was doing so. That was enough to make him question the wisdom of pursuing a relationship with her. He wished for a moment that Deborah wasn’t tied up in elders’ meetings. He would appreciate her advice. Wasn’t that what sponsors were for?

He pulled on an old pair of sparring trousers, tied the drawstring, and lay down on his narrow bed, mind still chasing the conundrum that Jannika presented. As problems went, it wasn’t that bad. But now he owed Jannika something, and he had no idea how he was going to pay, not without raising hopes he wasn’t willing to fulfill.