Page 68 of A Taste of Gold and Iron

“Tadek,” Evemer said, and then his heart stopped in his chest, and for a moment he was too horrified with himself to speak.

Kadou cleared his throat. “Yes. Tadek. I don’t know if he’d use the word ‘friends’ for what we are, but . . . yes, he’s a friend of sorts. The closest one I have, anyway. Eozena is more . . . family.”

A friend of sorts.Evemer bit his tongue to hold back any further comments and kept his eyes lowered. He supposed it was anof sortskind of friendship for Tadek to feel comfortable taking the kinds of liberties that he did. Evemer clenched his jaw. It was not his place to make judgments about who his liege favored or the choices he made in his personal life. His liege was to be considered above reproach.

Tadek, though. He could judge Tadek all he liked, because regardless of how deft he was at disarming Siranos and how many clever remarks he had prepared and how lightning fast his sword-forms were and how many easy talents he possessed, the fact remained that he was a little shit with no regard for propriety and a complete inability to restrain himself around pretty young princes. He was aflirt.

“My lord,” he murmured, because that was all he had to say.

“May I do yours?” Kadou asked.

“My what?” Evemer said, arranging all of the soap jars in precise regulation-perfect order. He was, frankly, still appalled that Tadek held such little reverence for House Mahisti that he would keep his attentions fixed on Kadou as if His Highness were anequal. That Tadek would attempt tocharmKadou, as if His Highness could be charmed, calling him lovely and beauty in front of other people as he had earlier—and nearly every other day that Evemer had seen the two of them together. Simply unspeakable behavior.

“Your hair. Can I do it for you?”

Evemer’s thoughts wrenched away from Tadek’s many sins and improprieties with a jolt. “Why?”

Kadou shrugged one shoulder. “Reciprocity.”

Evemer urgently ran through all the rules of duty and honor that he had ever learned or heard allusions to and came up blank but for a confused hunch that he should probably say no, because it was somehow wrong for him to allow Kadou to do such a thing. There were the floor plans—yes, that was it. The floor plans of the bathhouse with all the notes on all the ways one’s oathsworn charge could be hurt or killed without the unwavering vigilance of their kahya.

And, on the other hand, there were the ballads—stories of the ancient warlords who brushed and shod their lieutenants’ horses with their own hands, or mended their soldiers’ armor, or washed their wounds. Evemer flushed with shame and longing to even think of that. Those were gestures of great honor and love, and he had not done anything to be so cherished. He hadn’t even been able to protect Kadou the night before. He’d had to berescued.

“You look like you’re overthinking it,” Kadou said quietly.

Well, he probably was. It came down to Kadou’s choice, didn’t it? And his liege was above reproach, was he not? “I couldn’t impose.” But oh, part of him wanted it, wanted to have that proof that he was useful and valued, that his failure could be forgiven . . . Part of him yearned for it so sharply it hurt.

“Reciprocity.” And then Kadou added, with a perfectly straight face, “Are you trying to imbalance the whole system of fealty, Evemer? I should have known you’d turn out to be a dangerous revolutionary after all.”

Evemer refused to laugh at that, though a sparkle of it gleamed suddenly in his chest, cutting through the ache of all that banked and buried longing. “It’s true,” he said soberly. “All of this has been a ruse. Soon I will trick you into kidnapping yourself, and I will have you write your own ransom note.” The sparkle of mirth was replaced by a wave of horror, and he looked at Kadou properly before he could help himself and—

And Kadou had lit up like the streets of Kasaba’s Little Tash district for the Tashaz winter festival of lights. He’d somehow comealivein a way that Evemer had never seen on him before—or at least, not since that moment at the Shipbuilder’s Guild when he’d looked down and smiled and said,You’re a godsend.

Evemer felt a wave of strong emotion surging up and promptly slammed a door on it before he could even identify what the feeling was, holding it closed and ignoring whatever spilled through like firelight shining through the gap at the bottom. He looked away from his lord and occupied his attention, as much as he could, with counting tiles at the base of the fountain.

“Evemer!” Kadou said, and that life was in his voice too. “That was a joke!”

“It wasn’t a very funny joke.”

“But itwasa joke—that’s two now, isn’t it? We are pleased, and in place of any honorable titles We could bestow upon thee, We shall wash thy hair.”

Kadou sounded like aperson. Even with the silly, overwrought, archaic language, he sounded like . . . like anyone else. Evemer didn’t quite know what had changed, but it was as if a freestanding mirror had been swiveled in place and now reflected a completely novel perspective of the room.

“If you must, my lord,” Evemer said, and some part of him, curious to see what would happen, just managed to bite back an assurance that Kadou shouldn’t feel obliged to do anything for him.

“You aren’t very good at letting people take care of you either, are you,” Kadou said, pulling the robe back up over his shoulders, then rising from the bench and nudging Evemer to sit down in his place. Evemer was too gobsmacked at the notion that someone besides his mother might evenwantto take care of him to respond before Kadou tipped Evemer’s head back and poured water over him.

He spluttered inelegantly.

“Sorry,” said Kadou, unrepentant. The bottles and jars of soaps and fragrant oils clattered on the tray as he rummaged through them, disarraying the perfect order Evemer had constructed them in. Evemer pushed his hair out of his face and wiped his eyes. “You’ll have to direct me, I suppose. I’ve never done someone else’s before.” His fingers slipped into Evemer’s hair a moment later. The scent of the soap—rose, lily of the valley, jasmine, and Arjuni sandalwood—cut a bright note through the humid air.

Through the stunned silence of his own mind, a thought drifted: This soap was, very likely, the most expensive thing he’d ever had on his body, other than his sword and his cobalt-blue uniform. In the kahyalar dormitories they washed with good but simpler scents—mignonette and resin, or zaunwood and citrus.

“It’s not difficult,” Evemer managed. “This is fine.” It was . . . nice. People didn’t really touch him. He slammed the door on those feelings too.

A moment later, Kadou said, very quietly, “Did you want to talk any more about last night?”

“This morning, you said it was nothing.”

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