“Tell me about the farm,” said the king.

Haltingly, unsure of himself in this interview that was as unreal as the rest of the day, Costis took refuge in the training of hierarchy and did as he was told. He talked about the olive groves and the corn crops, the house he shared with his father and his younger sister. In between his words, he sipped his wine and the king refilled his cup. The gesture was less startling the second time. As he thought of the farm, Costis’s words came more easily. His father had quarreled with his cousin who was the head of the family, and they had moved out of the main house when Costis was young.

“Your father lost the argument?”

Costis shrugged. “He said the only thing worse than being wrong in a family argument was being right. He said a particular dam wouldn’t hold through the spring. When it didn’t, we moved out of the house.”

“Not very fair.”

Costis shrugged again. It had suited him. The house was small, meant for one of the farm’s managers, but it was private. Costis had been happy to be away from his cousins.

The king nodded in understanding. “I didn’t get along with my cousins either. They held me face down in a rain cache once and wouldn’t let me up until I repeated several filthy insults about my family. Not that I would admit that to anyone but you.” He sipped his wine. “We’ve gotten along better recently, my cousins and I. Perhaps something similar will happen as you get older.”

Costis finished the wine in his cup and wondered what sort of creature you would have to be to forgive your cousins a history like that. He shrugged. The king sounded like an old man giving advice to a child. The official father of the people was younger, Costis thought, than he was himself, and Costis was very young to be a squad leader. Anyway, Costis’s relationships with his cousins would have little opportunity to mature if he was going to be dead by morning. No doubt that was why the king felt safe in his embarrassing revelation.

The king refilled Costis’s cup.

When he sat again, he said, “Don’t give up so soon, Costis. Tell me why you hit me.”

Costis swallowed the wine in his mouth.

“Or should we review? You and your friend came through the entryway while you were repeating all the insults you no doubt heard from my dear attendant Sejanus. I understand he was off drinking with his old friends from the Guard last night. Aristogiton must have missed the fun. Was he on duty?”

“He’s okloi. His family has no land. Sejanus wouldn’t drink with him.”

“But your family are patronoi? And you and Aris are friends?”

“Yes.”

“How unfortunate that the arched entryway amplified your words so well. I thought I was being magnanimous when I pretended not to have heard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I was talking to Teleus then, wasn’t I? He called you over to join us. I think we were trying to gloss over the unpleasantness. Do you remember? We were discussing whether or not I would train with the Guard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And you…,” he prompted.

“Hit you, Your Majesty.” Costis sighed.

He’d pulled the king around and swung his fist into the king’s startled face, knocking him to the dusty ground of the training yard, where he rolled, howling and cursing and dirtying the fine white cloth of his blouse.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know why you hit someone?”

Costis shook his head.

“It must have been something I said. Was that it?”

“I don’t know.” He knew. The king had commiserated with Teleus on having men so inept that they allowed their own queen to be abducted.

“You must admit, Costis, that I did whisk her right out from under your noses.”

“It was nothing you said. Y-Your Majesty was, of course, entirely correct,” Costis said, hating him.

“Then why?” the king badgered plaintively. “Tell me, Costis, why?”

Costis didn’t know why he said what he said next, except perhaps that he was going to die and he didn’t want to do it with a lie on his lips.

“Because you didn’t look like a king,” he said.

The king stared in mild astonishment.

Costis went on, growing angrier with every word. “Sejanus says you’re an idiot, and he’s right. You have no idea even how to look like a king, much less be one. You don’t walk like a king, you don’t stand like a king, you sit on the throne like…like a printer’s apprentice in a wineshop.”

“So?”

“So—”

“You mistook me for one of your cousins?”

Costis surged on. “So, everything Teleus said was right. You have no business wanting to practice with the Guard. You can practice with the rest of the useless aristocrats in the court, you can call up a garrison of Eddisians to train with if you want.”

“There aren’t any Eddisian soldiers in the palace,” the king interrupted to point out.

“They are half an hour away in Thegmis port. They are scattered all over the country like boils. You can send for them. We are the Queen’s Guard, and you can leave us alone. Teleus was right. You had no business—”

Shocked at his own words, Costis lifted his hand for another swallow from his cup and paused, looking into it. It was empty. He rolled it in his fingertips and tried to think. How many times had the king filled it? Have you eaten? the king had asked before he sent for food that still hadn’t come, that he had known wouldn’t come soon. How many cups of unwatered wine had there been? Enough that his joints felt watery and his head was light. Enough that his tongue was loose in his head. He looked up to meet a mild, inquiring look from the king.

He wasn’t an idiot, whatever Sejanus said. He was a conniving bastard.

“Who put you up to it?” the king asked quietly.

“No one,” snapped Costis.

“Teleus?” the king prompted softly. “Tell me it was Teleus and I’ll see you pardoned.”

“No!” Costis shouted. He jumped to his feet, and his hands balled into fists. The cup in his hand fell unheeded to the floor and smashed. He could feel the heat of the rage and the wine in his face. The curtain in the doorway was swept aside.

The queen had arrived.

Costis gaped, as breathless as if the air had been driven out of him by a blow. He hadn’t heard the sounds of her arrival. He looked at Eugenides, still sitting on the stool. The king hadn’t been distracted by the noise Costis was making. He must have heard the footsteps in the hall. He’d spoken softly so that those approaching wouldn’t hear him. But they had certainly heard Costis. They had heard him shouting at the king. Smashing wine cups. Now they could see him standing over the king like a threat.

Costis took a ragged breath. He wanted to kill the king. He wanted to cry. He dropped to his knees before his queen and lowered his head almost to the floor, covering his face with his hands, still balled into fists, tightening knots of rage and bitter, bitter shame.

CHAPTER TWO

COSTIS heard the queen’s voice over his head. “Do tell me why I should come to the barracks to speak to my guard?”