“Jainan?” A brisk tap on the back of his wrist made him jump. It was Kiem, leaning over with an anxious expression. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Jainan said, pulling his hand away. Grief worked in strange ways. He was supposed to make a fresh start with Kiem; he could not let him know why he’d spaced out. “Fine. Just tired.”

Kiem pulled his hand back immediately. “Yeah, it’s been a long day. We can skip the rest of the course—”

“No,” Jainan said desperately. He forced Taam entirely out of his mind. He couldn’t ruin this as well. “It won’t be a problem. Everything is fine.”

Kiem paused. “Right,” he said. He nodded to the footman who cleared away their teacups. “So, um. The little crest on your jacket—it’s some kind of Thean family crest, right?”

“This?” Jainan said, thrown by the change of direction. He touched the emblem sewn on the collar of his tunic.

“Heraldry and stuff is a bit of, uh, a hobby of mine,” Kiem said. “What’s the border mean?” He seemed to mistake Jainan’s hesitation for reluctance. “Or is it private?”

Jainan was so off-balance that he nearly said, Yes, that’s why my clan displays it on everything. But even if Kiem could come up with a witty remark every second sentence when he was on a roll, as he’d proved for the last hour, Jainan himself wasn’t socially adept enough to joke without causing offense. “It’s not private,” he said. “This is Feria’s emblem. The border alters depending on your position in the clan.” Kiem tilted his head, radiating interest. Jainan might have suspected him of flirting, except Jainan had watched him at the wedding, and

Kiem had been like this with everyone from the journalists to the judge. Jainan kept close tabs on Kiem’s body language, waiting for signs of boredom—if Jainan had known heraldry was a hobby of his, he could have led with it.

At some point Jainan looked down at the remains of the mild course and realized he had been doing most of the talking for the last ten minutes.

Kiem followed his gaze. “Huh. We seem to have run out of food.” He propped an elbow on the table and raised his eyes back to Jainan’s. “Coffee? We could go somewhere and get coffee. Or you could come back to my rooms—uh

—I mean, our rooms?” Jainan had the distinct sense that Kiem’s script hadn’t gone as planned. “I guess technically you could invite me. I mean, or we could go back and not have coffee!” He waved his hands in front of his face. “Or I could go somewhere else and you could go back—or you could, uh—”

A flicker of amusement leapt up in Jainan. “Would you like to come back to my rooms for coffee, Prince Kiem?” he said gravely.