“Even if the Thean logs felt warm and fuzzy about us—which they don’t—a death and a quick remarriage would still be a tough sell. I need something that doesn’t give the fringe outlets any traction. What’s this about another room?”

It took Kiem a moment to recall what he and Bel had been talking about.

“Nothing important,” he said. “Jainan’s going to need his own room, but I know it’ll look bad if we don’t live together. We’ll just do some remodeling in here, add a bedroom—” He broke off at the look on Hren’s face.

“Add a bedroom? ” Hren said. “Did you agree to this marriage or not? You want the Thean press to run stories about it falling apart before it’s a week old?

They can get some nice mileage out of that, link it to the weaknesses in the Thean alliance, find some of those fucking teenagers who’ve decided unification protests are the new big thing. No construction work.”

“I—what? You can’t expect him to sleep with me.”

“Don’t like the look of him? Too bad. Suck it up.”

“That’s not it!” Kiem said. “He’s just lost his partner, I’m pretty damn sure he’s not going to want to! Marriage, fine, but not sleeping together.”

“You start putting in new bedrooms, some contractor’s going to tell the newslogs,” Hren said. “That’s out. Thanks to you, your friends, your old housemates, and everyone down to your College halls cleaner, I have detailed cuttings about every starstruck airhead you’ve ever jumped into bed with—”

“Hey,” Kiem said, “none of them were like that.”

“—which is the only part of my work-based knowledge I want to carve out of my head with an industrial laser, but you set yourself up for this. The newslogs expect to know about your sex life. You’re fair game. Do what you want once the bedroom door shuts, but you’re going to pretend to everyone else that you and the Thean are happily married.”

“Everything in my rooms is private,” Kiem said stubbornly. “Nothing’s going to leak. And this isn’t your business anyway.”

“This palace has more leaks than a sewer pipe on a junk ship.” Hren looked at Bel, just a glance.

Kiem’s eyes narrowed. “Bel’s more discreet than any of your press office staff.”

“I can always find you someone more reliable,” Hren said, and Kiem realized he was being blackmailed. Hren had enough of the Emperor’s ear to have some pull over hiring decisions and Bel was technically paid by the palace. Prince or not, Kiem didn’t have the leverage. He didn’t have to look at Bel to know that she knew it too. Hren had never gone this far before. Kiem hadn’t been worth blackmailing. Kiem felt, with some uneasiness, that he had stepped over an invisible line into a different political world from the one he’d occupied yesterday.

“No construction work,” Kiem echoed. “Right.”