It opened onto a forbiddingly large reception room that looked out over a panorama of the city of Arlusk and the snow-covered mountains beyond. The smooth whiteness of the walls was broken up by circular tapestries depicting various Iskat birds, predatory and alien. The rest of the furniture was carefully crafted to fit in with these antique treasures: the chairs and side tables were made of polished wood, only lightly brushed with gilt. There was a table set for two by the window.

Prince Kiem was rising swiftly from it, so swiftly that he knocked the chair backward. Jainan stiffened. “Ah—oh, damn—excuse me—” Kiem somehow hooked his foot under the chair before it hit the floor and awkwardly flipped it up again. He turned back to Jainan and offered him a bow. “Sorry about that. Do you, er, want to sit down?”

Jainan was still frozen. The table was spread with snowy linen and glittered with twelve types of cutlery. Tiny dishes had been set out with geometric position, each holding a delicate morsel of food. There was a candlestick clawing its way up from the middle of the table. It was meant to be romantic.

Jainan couldn’t do this.

“I, er, I mean—maybe you don’t—” Kiem spread his hands helplessly. “I didn’t mean to ambush you. If you’re not feeling well, that’s fine. You can order in food to our rooms. I can go somewhere else. Or, or something.”

Whatever happened regarding dinner, they were going to be sleeping in the same bed tonight. Jainan forced himself not to step back. Running away now wouldn’t help anything. It was only a formal dinner; he had sat through hundreds of formal dinners.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. He took three steps forward and sat, stiffly, and remembered to add, “It’s lovely. I’m honored.”

Kiem gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. A joke, Jainan thought numbly as Kiem sat down. “Sorry it’s not exactly a big wedding banquet. Official mourning

and all that. I did get us one of the bottles of Gireshian champagne from the cellars, though.” Kiem grabbed for the bottle by the candlestick and waved it hopefully. His bracelet, a square wooden bead threaded with a cord, clinked too loudly against Jainan’s empty glass. “Thirty years old and spent three years on the ship here. Can I—oh, wait.” He pulled the bottle away, looking stricken.

“You don’t drink, do you?”

Giresh wasn’t in-system. Systems outside the Empire could only be accessed through a link, and Iskat’s nearest link was a year’s travel away, so trade and interchange with the wider universe was slow. Out-system goods were luxuries; Kiem was offering him something that would have cost him a chunk of his allowance to acquire from the cellars. Jainan pushed his glass an inch toward the bottle. “Please do.”