Kiem hadn’t even thought of that. “She didn’t say anything like that.” He looked at the rest of the calendar, which showed the usual roster of events and charity bashes. “We need to show up for the Resolution ceremonies—and Unification Day, of course—but she didn’t give me anything else official. Hren said she wants to keep the whole marriage low-key. Only necessary press.”

Bel gave a quiet hah. Her opinion of Hren Halesar wasn’t high. “I hope Press Office is really enjoying today’s coverage, then. Want to see the reports? They made me laugh,” she added, which was never a good sign.

“Let’s see the damage.” Kiem threw himself onto the couch. It was going to

be a far cry from the glowing coverage of Jainan’s first wedding. “Shit, Jainan’s schedule. I should have asked him—” He broke off, glancing at the closed door of the bedroom.

“He’s awake,” Bel said. “He went out to exercise in the garden.”

“He did?” Kiem crossed over to the big windows and looked out into the courtyard gardens, where slender trees rose from between the paths in the shadow of the palace towers. The sun glowed white behind a haze of freezing mist.

Jainan was a whirl of movement in the space between the trees. He held a stick in his hands and went through some kind of martial arts drill like it was a dance, so fast that the stick was almost blurred as he spun and thrust. His undershirt left his arms bare to the shoulder even in the morning cold. His feet crunched into the frosted grass. Kiem stared.

“Quarterstaff,” Bel said. “It’s a Thean thing. I’ll send you a primer.”

Kiem made himself turn away from the window, rubbing a hand across his forehead. He had no right to be staring, not after he had screwed up so spectacularly last night. “Right. Yeah. Thanks.” He should at least know what it was, if Jainan was that good at it.

“Headache?” Bel said. She was giving him her neutral private secretary look.

“Sort of,” Kiem said. He saw her glance at the folded sheet and groaned. “Oh, look, fine. I might need another pillow for the couch. Don’t leak it to the newslogs.”

Bel, uncharacteristically, hesitated. “I can get you another bed.”

“Not worth the risk,” Kiem said.

“A folding bed, then,” Bel said.

“The couch is fine.”

“The couch is not fine. Nobody will see a folding bed.”

Kiem found he was leaning back against the wall. He drummed his fingers on it. He wasn’t used to feeling defensive. “Yeah, all right. Whatever.”

“Kiem,” Bel said bluntly. “Are you okay?”