It came out before he could think too much about it. He stopped, almost wanting to take it back, but then Kiem gave a surprised, delighted smile. Jainan hadn’t seen that smile before. He dropped his gaze back down to the table, but someone with a personality as intense as a laser cannon was focusing it all blindingly on him, and he wasn’t immune.

“Can’t think of anything I’d like better,” Kiem said, abandoning the last scraps on his plate. “Shall we?”

The euphoria from their brief accord couldn’t last. On the walk back to Kiem’s rooms, it drained away even as Kiem kept up his stream of chatter, leaving Jainan with only low-level dread. Even Kiem seemed more subdued and lost the thread of what he was saying as he opened the door, which was probably for the best, since Jainan hadn’t heard a word he’d said in the last five minutes.

The problem was hope. Against all the evidence, some part of Jainan wondered if there was a chance that he could be good enough for Kiem tonight, if they could lay the foundations for a happy, stable marriage that would hold the treaty together. It wasn’t even as if there was a logical reason for hope. Jainan knew from his grim foray into the gossip logs that Kiem had at least half a dozen previous lovers. More women than men, and every one of them beautiful, confident, looking like an effortless match for Kiem even in passing paparazzi shots. People Kiem had picked, not had forced on him. Jainan couldn’t compete.

He let go of Kiem’s arm once they were inside. Every movement he made felt awkward. He sat on the edge of a couch to stop himself from hovering and then realized that he was making things even more awkward—what was this, a wedding night or a polite visit? He couldn’t work out what to do with his hands.

The images and vids accompanying the gossip log articles hadn’t captured Kiem well: in person he had a compelling vivacity, as if he contained fractionally too much energy for the confines of his body. He turned a wall screen off, made the lights brighter and then dimmer, flashed a distracted smile at Jainan, and ended up making a beeline for the samovar. “Right! What would you like? Bel hooked up the dispenser so you can mix any flavor—”

“Just coffee,” Jainan said abruptly. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. He hadn’t meant to interrupt.