When Kiem finished on the weather, there wasn’t even a break before he switched to the food (“Apparently hazelnuts are making a comeback—ever tried hazelnuts?”), the latest news on Sefalan raiders (“Bel’s from Sefala, you know, she gets her news from the Sefalan Guard over there.”) and the orbital shuttle gridlock the Resolution ship had caused (“Won’t be cleared within the week, I’ve got a bet on it with the deputy station controller.”).

The stream of chatter started to become soothing. Jainan fell thankfully into autopilot, dredging up opinions so bland they might as well have been written by the press office. Kiem was good at feigning interest: he managed to look like he was hanging on every dull word. Jainan knew it was a diplomatic front, but it made the conversation easier. Kiem took up more space than Taam had; he was constantly gesturing to make a point or nearly putting his elbow in the butter.

Jainan tried not to look at his body, his deep brown skin and the smooth curve of his forearm. It felt wrong to let himself be distracted.

The sweet course came and went, with a rich savory soup leavened with honey and a cluster of sugared fancies on the side. Then more of the scalding tea. The sky through the windows had turned a deep, dusky blue, and Jainan’s eyes kept going back to the encroaching dark above and the way the palace lights flickered and glinted from a few errant snowflakes. Year after year, the heartland of the Empire seemed eager to tilt its orbit away from Iskat’s star; winter came on swiftly in this part of the planet, always.

Try as he might, Jainan was losing the thread of Kiem’s conversation. It had been a long day. In the lull between crises, tiredness crept up on him like paralyzing serum, making his spine ache and his mind slip. The clink of cutlery

and the candlelight reflected on the dark window was too familiar; it could have been any of the hundreds of banquets he had attended with Taam since he came to Iskat. Kiem was a stranger on the other side of the table. His features didn’t really resemble Taam’s, but right now the two of them looked more similar than they should.

And then it wasn’t just resemblance. The room blurred, and Taam was sitting in Kiem’s place, handsome and charming, speaking to an indistinct dignitary on his right. The lump of soft bread in Jainan’s mouth turned to ash; he couldn’t swallow. Taam laughed at a joke and turned back. The moment he did, the smile was gone, wiped cleanly from his face.

Let’s go home, Jainan thought. Taam’s mood would only get worse if they stayed. As if he’d heard, Taam leaned toward him and reached out. Jainan kept his hand still on the table.