Page 144 of The King's Menagerie

It was one of the best visits he'd ever had, and every day the idea of leaving slipped a little further from his mind.

On the afternoons he had free, he tutored with Vahid on wine, food, and other components of court life.

Everything was so interesting, so captivating in a way no other place he'd visited had ever been, and he'd been all around the world, seen and done things people could only dream of. He was growing increasingly enamored, wholly outside of his stupid growing infatuation with a king and concubines he would never do more than dance for.

He was hiding in his room with wine and a book of poetry from the library when a familiar knock came at the door. He opened to find one of Dali's runners in the hallway. "Does she want to see me, then?"

The runner grinned. "Of course, Peacock."

Rolling eyes, but smiling, Jankin replied, "Let me get dressed, and I'll be right there."

He did so quickly and headed for the training room, nodding in greeting to various people on the way, sadly not able to stop and chat with any of them.

"Good afternoon," he said as Dali spotted him. "How is your day?"

"Terrible. I've had one dancer break her ankle, two others came down with food poisoning, and one is so hungover he's useless to me. His Majesty did not want you bothered with major performances until next month, but I am simply out of options right now."

"He didn't want me bothered? I am never bothered when it comes to dancing. But yes, of course, I'm happy to help, you know that." Didn't want him bothered? That seemed so strange. He was a dancer. What else was he meant to do? Was HisMajesty just being polite, had he caused some sort of problem with his private dance, and King Shafiq wanted him off to the side? That didn't really fit, though.

Dali smiled and patted his arm. "I knew you would. As to His Majesty, I am not privy to his thoughts, but if you will trust the opinions of a wizened old woman—"

"You aren't a day over forty."

"—then I would say that he wanted you to have time to enjoy the palace and city, instead of only seeing everything in the pauses between performances. If the palace had its way, you would be booked every hour of every day. They cannot countermand His Majesty's wishes, though, not even that council of spoiled rotten blowhards. You will be replacing my drunken fool, who was going to do the final performance of the night, which is your forte, hmm? Being the best and grandest."

"It is what I like best, at any rate," Jankin said with a laugh. "Is there a theme or anything?"

"Wear red again. It will be favored." She winked. "I have some options set out for you."

The selection this time was a beautiful red fabric that seemed to shift color to orange, pink, and yellow depending on how the light struck it. How that was achieved, he had not the slightest, but the result was incredible. Once that was chosen and the coordinating jewelry selected, garnets this time instead of rubies, he turned to his routine.

For this he combined two, something he'd done once before, and adjusting it slightly did not take any real effort. The best part of this dance was that it used two fans, a high level Rittuen dance that took no small amount of time and effort to master. He had two sets of fans, one gold and decorated with the image of a firebird, the other silver and decorated with mermaids. Neither had jewels, so between them they'd work with every costume he wore.

After he had practiced the slightly altered routine enough to be confident, he went to shower and rest.

Lying in bed, his mind inevitably turned back to King Shafiq. Who had wanted him left alone to enjoy the city and palace. Not be overburdened. He could recall only one other person who had ever seen to his well-being for him, reminded him to stop working and enjoy things, made certain he wasn't pressured into not being able to.

King Shafiq and Ramsay would probably get along marvelously, now he really thought about it.

What would happen at the dance tonight? Would Shafiq be happy to see him perform again? He must right?

Why did it matter so much? Jankin adored attention, but he'd never wanted one person's attention—approval—so badly. Not since Ramsay. Again. Hmm.

Sighing, he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep before the performance that felt so pivotal in his head of a sudden, even though it was probably just one more in an endless number.

A servant woke him a few hours later, leaving him plenty of time to wash up and get to the practice hall to dress and have his hair and makeup done. Then it was off to the waiting room once more, a place he'd only been in the once, but vividly recalled. He'd thought he'd be here more often, but instead…

Well, apparently Shafiq had been letting him enjoy the sights in peace. He still didn't know what to make of that knowledge. What would he think after tonight's performance?

As with last time, there were other performers waiting their turn. Many more, so this banquet must be a much larger affair. Directly across from him, as far as he could get while still being in the room, was Raffa. He cast one brief look Jankin's way, full of contempt and loathing. It was all so fucking tiresome.

Ignoring Raffa, Jankin asked those nearest him, "Is there some special occasion tonight?" He hadn't heard anything around the palace, and nobody had mentioned anything to him.

"Nothing like a birthday or holiday, no," said the woman closest to him. "It's that time of year where some ambassadors and other foreign staff and such go home, and new people arrive, so His Majesty always makes their first banquet a little grander as a show of welcome to them and a farewell to the others."

"I see, thank you."

The woman smiled briefly then went back to speaking with her friend, a pair who from their earlier warmup would be singing.

---