One of the lower-ranking officers behind him prompted him with Jainan’s name in a murmur. Jainan knew the officers Taam had worked with: this one, with a flint brooch neatly pinned to her collar and a severe, scraped-back ponytail, was Colonel Lunver, who had taken over Taam’s military duties. She had little patience for civilians and less for vassal planets.

The prompt seemed to spark Fenrik’s memory. “Ah. Taam’s partner. What do you want?”

“About the ceremony,” Jainan said. His mouth was dry. He couldn’t afford to cause trouble, but he had duties other than his Iskat ones. “Prince Taam has had Iskat rites. There are also some Thean clan rituals—”

“Thean rituals?” General Fenrik’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t have to say, Taam was an Iskaner, or the Imperial family has to follow Imperial custom; both of them knew that.

“I can promise it will not be disruptive,” Jainan said, trying to make up lost ground. He should have found a more tactful approach, but there hadn’t been time. “The new Thean ambassador will be in attendance, and the Thean press will take note of what happens at the ceremony.”

“What do you need?” the third officer asked, slipping the question in deftly as Fenrik frowned. Jainan knew him as well: Aren Saffer, Taam’s old deputy, breezy and nonchalant. Aren’s tone was almost sympathetic, which made the back of Jainan’s neck prickle with embarrassment. But Jainan was too numb to let that stop him.

Jainan rapidly calculated the minimum level of ritual observance that might avert hostility in the Thean media. “If I could just have five minutes for a recitation during the ceremony. It would be most appropriate when the funeral images are dedicated.”

“Why didn’t you take this to the stewards?” Fenrik said.

“They were … unhelpful,” Jainan said. The shrine’s stewards had flat-out refused to change the ceremony, which Jainan understood, since the request came at the last minute. General Fenrik was Jainan’s last avenue of appeal.

The general examined him, as if he suspected Jainan was trying some sort of political trick. Jainan endured the scrutiny. Five minutes wasn’t really enough for a clan recitation, but he could see even that was pushing the boundaries.

But Fenrik apparently decided five minutes was a small price to pay to end Jainan’s petitioning. “Take care of it,” Fenrik said to Colonel Lunver, who snapped her mouth shut on what she had been about to say and saluted. Fenrik gave Jainan the briefest of nods and moved on, clearly intending to spend no more time on it. His two officers sketched a bow to Jainan and followed.

Jainan stepped back to let the three of them pass. He ought to feel relief, but he only felt the cold prickle at his back and a distant dread of the ceremony itself. He had no room to indulge those sentiments.