Page 6 of A Fragile Heart

He almost asked them to stay again, even just to rest with him, but what was the point? There was always work to do and he wouldn't create more problems, be more of a spoiled brat and burden, by taking them from it.

Still, his brief nap wasn't nearly as restful as it might have been with willing company at his side.

When he woke a couple of hours later, it was to find Jahanara in his room looking angry. "Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" she asked, bristling. "Where are my earrings? I let you borrow them, you promised to return them, and now they're nowhere to be found."

"What are you talking about? I gave them to Kashi two days ago to return to you. I put them in the box, then in his hands, and sent him off with them."

"I spoke with Kashi and he said the only box you gave him was one of bracelets for the treasury."

"That isn't true! I did give him the bracelets, yes, but right on top of them was your earrings. He was to return the earrings and then deliver the bracelets to the treasury."

Jahanara huffed. "If you'd done that, I'd have the earrings, Bakhti. Why are you always doing things like this? I never should have lent them to you."

"Fine, whatever. I guess I lost them," Bakhtiar said bitterly, even though hehadn't. Just like he hadn't lost the contracts, or his mother's precious scarf, or his ring, or anything else. "Pick out a new pair and I'll pay for them, of course. I'm sorry." He stood and went to wash up for dinner, even though he was now far too upset to eat and would probably just throw it all up later. Wouldn't be the first time, and he couldn't simply excuse himself, he'd just be called spoiled and lazy and accused of fobbing things off on everyone else.

So he washed and dressed, arranged a jeweler to see his sister in the morning, reviewed his notes on the goals he was expected to accomplish at dinner, and finally headed off. At his side, Kurosh seemed more pensive than usual, and Farrokh quieter than usual. "Are you two all right? You've seemed quiet lately."

"Perfectly fine, my prince," Farrokh said with a smile, reaching up to squeeze his arm. "I was lost in thought, that's all."

"Something is poking and prodding at me," Kurosh said in that carefully idle way of his, like the auditory version of the ease with which he played with his precious knives, as though they were mere toys. But forgetting he was playing with weapons was a fool's game, and misunderstanding that tone of voicewas just as dangerous. "I'll speak more when I have something substantial; for now it's only suspicions."

"As you wish. I'd like to stop by the office if you don't mind, I left my favorite shawl there and I want it for dinner since that hall is always so chilly."

"Of course, my prince," Kurosh said.

At his office, standing alone now the offices were closed for the day, Reza seemed to stand ever so slightly straighter as they approached. "Good evening, Your Highness."

"Good evening, Reza. Does my terrible handwriting remain secret and safe."

That delightful eye crinkle again. "Secret and safe, my—Your Highness, as always. Only disturbance on the hall was a young girl who looks freshly hired and seems to be under Jula's care, poor girl. I got her pointed in the right direction, and all has been quiet since."

"I admire you can stand here alone and still all night, Reza. We all know I wouldn't last five minutes before I started climbing the walls."

That got him a soft chuckle. An actual, real laugh, if only barely. Bakhtiar wanted to cheer. "Some of us are meant for holding still, Your Highness. Others are meant to move and captivate. Off to dinner, then?"

"Yes, I just wanted my shawl."

"I'll get it," Farrokh said.

When he returned, Bakhtiar took it, then gave Reza a playful salute. "Carry on, faithful guard. I hope your night is dreadfully boring."

"You and me both, Your Highness. Enjoy dinner."

They'd only just barely turned the corner when Kurosh gave him a look. "Your flirting is getting more obvious, my prince."

"Flirting?" Bakhtiar blinked. "With who? Reza? I'm not flirting, that would be inappropriate, he works for me."

"So did I," Farrokh said dryly. "Which reminds me, Bakhti, about earlier in the garden—"

A raised, angry voice snatched his attention, and he only barely noted Farrokh's frustrated huff before they were upon the source. Lord Hesh and his youngest daughter, and he was currently lecturing her on behaving like some sort of strumpet or criminal.

When he grabbed her arm, forcing it straight out, it was obvious why.

She had a tattoo. A beautiful, colorful tattoo of plum blossoms with a sparrow perched in their midst. It was actually rather charming how many women and girls in court were flouting convention to get tattoos because Relanya had them. If he were a young girl in court and a beautiful princess from far away showed up with big, bold, colorful tattoos and enchanted everyone around her, including the brother shewasn'tengaged to, he'd want tattoos as well.

He'd always wanted tattoos, he just wasn't allowed them as crown prince. Maybe he should be more like a young girl.

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