The way Sulian’s tunic bunched up around his stomach, the way he leaned his weight on his armrest as he sniffed his fresh wine. It was not a position the Emperor of Matherin would take in front of anyone he respected or cared to have respect him. He smirked over the glass, daring Eithan to say something.

But Eithan just picked up his knife, brandishing it with a little more flare than was necessary, and sliced into the perfectly seasoned pheasant wafting up from his plate.

Minutes passed in silence as they both ate, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, Eithan had barely finished half his food before Sulian cleared his throat.

“Somewhere else you intend to be this evening?”

Eithan glanced up, lifting his fork to his mouth and chewing through his bite. There are a hundred places I’d rather be. In what order would you like me to recite them?

“Of course not, Father. Why do you ask?”

Sulian raised a brow, lifting a thick finger from his glass to gesture at him. “You and I both know you only dress in Matheris blue when you have someone to impress. Whatever whore you intend to rut into tonight, your name will impress her plenty. No need to ruin expensive thread.”

He ignored the baseless jab. Sulian had spies everywhere among the court. There was zero chance he was unaware of the fact that Eithan hadn’t taken a woman to his bed since he’d learned of Vera’s identity.

He took another bite, focusing on the spice of the pepper as he forced down another piece. Sulian’s obvious prodding was more insulting than his lazed posture.

“I am betrothed, Father. I have no one to impress until she is back safely. I didn’t realize I needed a reason to dress akin to my station.” The truth was his nicer tunics were less abrasive against his healing skin, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, much less him.

Sulian’s eyes narrowed, his crow’s feet seeming deeper and more numerous these days. “Good,” he finally said, setting his glass down and clasping his hands over his stomach, “that will make my news far easier to swallow.”

“And what news is that, Father?”

“I’m sending you to the base near Midpath to welcome the next enlistment of men. You leave within the next few weeks.”

Eithan’s knuckles whitened around his fork, his chest constricting until he was sure it’d cave in under the pressure. “For what purpose?”

He smoothed his free hand down his beard. “The same reason I tried to send you before, why else?”

Eithan stared at him, lowering his hand to fist it beneath the table, wrestling to keep his face passive. “Is there any particular reason that you’ve decided it must be me, or is this another punishment for my failure?”

Failure. Saying it made him want to rip his own tongue out. He ground his teeth together, double-checking his mask to make sure not a single flinch made it through.