“Right. I’ll release your press statement to the journalists.” Kiem considered protesting that he hadn’t even read it yet, but he could recognize when he didn’t have a leg to stand on. Hren got to his feet. “Have it memorized by tomorrow.
I’ll see you at the signing ceremony.”
Kiem saw him out. It wasn’t until the door had shut that he turned to Bel, threw up his hands, and said, “How is everything somehow worse?”
It continued to get worse. The head steward came early the next morning with a program for the ceremony and a mind-numbing list of details for Kiem to sign off on. No sooner had Kiem dragged himself through that than the congratulatory calls started coming in.
Most of them were from people he barely knew. The people who cared about the Thean alliance were a world away from his life up until now: nobles outside the palace called, as did foreign parliament officials and high-ranking bureaucrats. The Thean president called. The secretary of Imperial Affairs called. Kiem took the calls in the formal vidchair in the study, where sensors would project a freestanding image of him, and prickled with discomfort when each new person’s projection appeared in front of him. The Advisory Council called from one of their meetings, his cousin Prince Vaile sitting demurely among them, and took turns congratulating him with depressing sincerity. Vaile just gave him a wry smile. Kiem tried deviating from his press statement, but midway through the call with the Eisafan consul he realized that I’m very happy wasn’t appropriate either, since Jainan almost certainly wasn’t.
By the twelfth call, he was desperate enough that he declined the next person, jabbed the dispenser into life and coaxed it into disgorging a comfort-food sandwich that wasn’t on its menu. He got Bel a coffee and shoved it her way as she came into the room with a light-screen floating beside her. “I’m out,” he said. “No more calls. I’ve gone collecting for the Friends of Educationally Disadvantaged Puppies.”
“You didn’t really need to be on that last one anyway,” Bel said, shutting off her screen and taking the coffee. “Count Jainan is due in ten minutes. What is in that sandwich?”
“Chocolate,” Kiem said, just as Bel’s wristband beeped. He groaned. “Tell me that’s not another one,” he said, but Bel was already raising a finger to activate her earpiece.
She slipped back into the other room and held a short conversation. When she leaned out again, Kiem had gestured another sandwich out of the dispenser and was feeling mutinous. “I’m supposed to be getting ready to meet Jainan, I can’t spend the whole day—”
“Count Jainan’s sister,” Bel said. “Lady Ressid. Are you going to take it?”
Kiem swallowed, the food suddenly feeling like a solid lump in his throat.
This was the first contact from anyone who actually knew Jainan. “Put it on the vid.” He sat on the edge of the vidchair, back straight, and tried to look like someone who was thoroughly in charge of all the political sensitivities of a