“I will have moved quarters.”

“Yes,” the agent said. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know where Jainan was going. “Thank you for your information.”

Jainan watched the screen in front of him die. He felt exhausted; maybe that was relief. He sent a copy to Internal Security, but discovered the file wouldn’t delete without a passphrase. Never mind. He couldn’t read it anyway, and the investigation was inactive.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. He had a new partner, a new duty that required all his attention. He couldn’t be distracted by stray thoughts of Taam. He and Taam had spent five years together—five years that ended suddenly, brutally, like the punch of a demolition claw through a wall—

and that was it. That marriage was over.

A white indicator light glowed on the wall. Jainan turned and opened the door in the split second before the chime had a chance to sound.

A smartly dressed staffer stood outside. Jainan consciously ran through the Iskat social cues: her wristband was emblazoned with a crest, thus she must work for the palace, and her earrings were obviously flint, so at least she could be clearly read as female. Iskaners thought their gender presentation was very simple—wooden decorations for men, flint for women—but it was sometimes impossible to spot a bead or stone if it was displayed discreetly, and some people wore neither. The staffer wasn’t wearing a uniform tunic. She must be someone’s aide.

“Count Jainan?” The aide bowed. “My name is Bel Siara, Private Secretary to Prince Kiem. His highness has sent me to assist you.”

Jainan automatically bowed back. She looked vaguely familiar—Jainan must have seen her around the palace at some point, but he was bad at remembering people and worse at making connections. This transition might have been easier if he’d known people outside Taam’s immediate circle, but just moving out of Taam’s rooms was like moving into a city full of strangers.

“Honored to make your acquaintance,” he said. The formal phrase came out easily, polished by use, but then he had to think of what to say next. He had to stop his breathing from speeding up. Bel Siara was in a position to do him a lot of damage if she decided she didn’t like him. “I’ve packed. I’m ready to go.” He turned before she could reply and keyed the chest closed.

The lid slid shut, and the chest unmoored itself, bobbing toward the door as he touched the handle.

“Allow me,” Bel said and moved in to take a pull cord instead. Jainan backed off and let her.

Prince Kiem lived in an entirely different part of the palace. Taam had been given rooms in the Emperor’s Wing, the high-security heart of the palace, though of course he was several floors away from the Emperor. Prince Kiem seemed to have missed out on those; the Courtyard Residence was a long, echoing building of white stone that housed lesser relatives and high officials.