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February 22 - February 24, 2020
If he choked on a bone and died, I wouldn’t care. It wasn’t true.
The king lifted a hand to her cheek and kissed her. It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and a groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife, and when it was over, the king closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the hollow of the queen’s shoulder, like a man seeking respite, like a man reaching home at the end of the day.
“Tell me what I should say, then,” the queen asked. The king sighed. Forgetting Costis standing nearby, forgetting possibly that anyone or anything else in the world existed, the king said shakily, “Tell me you won’t cut out my lying tongue, tell me you won’t blind me, you won’t drive red-hot wires into my ears.” After one moment of gripped immobility, the queen bent to kiss the king lightly on one closed eyelid, then on the other. She said, “I love your eyes.” She kissed him on either cheek, near the small lobe of his ear. “I love your ears, and I love”—she paused as she kissed him gently on
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The king’s attendants remained, digesting the fact that their helpless, inept king had promised his wife to destroy the house of Erondites in six months and had done it in ninety-eight days.
That’s the public perception of your honor. It has nothing to do with anything important, except perhaps for manipulating fools who mistake honor for its bright, shiny trappings. You can always change the perceptions of fools.”
“Will you serve me and my god?” “I will, Your Majesty.” “Then come out,” said the king, helping him, “knowing that you’ll never die of a fall unless the god himself drops you.”
“You didn’t know I could do that, did you?” he asked, conversationally. “I did not, Your Majesty,” Teleus gasped. “My grandfather killed a man that way once, using the edge of the wooden sword.” “I hadn’t realized the Thieves of Eddis were so warlike.” “They aren’t, mostly. But like all men, Teleus, I have two grandfathers.” Teleus rolled his eyes to look up at him, and the king said, “One of mine was Eddis.”
Here in Attolia,” he said condescendingly, emphasizing Eugenides’s foreignness, “we are taught to treat a practice sword with all the respect of a real weapon, so that no thoughtless mistakes are made.” “Oh,” said the king, sounding amused, “in Eddis, we learn to keep track of the weapon we have in our hand.”
“This was your idea?” “No, Your Majesty. I mean, yes, I asked the king to spar. I had no idea this would happen.” With an effort he avoided indicting Teleus with a glance. “People do frequently seem to be surprised once my husband is involved.”
“Because the king will not quit, Teleus,” said Ornon as he joined them. “You must have noticed,” he said. “He whines, he complains, he ducks out of the most obvious responsibility. He is vain, petty, and maddening, but he doesn’t ever quit.” Ornon shrugged. “Ever.” “He may not quit, but he will lose.” “Oh, I wouldn’t place my money on it. I’ve seen him suffer setbacks.” Ornon looked at the queen and away. “I have never seen him, in the end, lose. He just persists until he comes out ahead. No match is finished for him until he has won.”
“Sometimes, if you want to change a man’s mind, you change the mind of the man next to him first.”
Teleus was obdurate. “You could not take a real sword out of a man’s grip, not with your bare hand.” “Oh, Teleus,” the king said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “So bullheaded and so wrong.” Reaching across to Teleus, he held out his hand in a fist and opened it slowly like a flower. “I practice it with a wooden sword. I can do it with a real one, too.”
“Basileus,” someone hidden in the steam whispered. Others echoed the praise. “Basileus.” Only Teleus shook his head. Costis watched him, not surprised. “The Basileus was a prince of his people, what we call a king now,” Teleus explained. “That one”—he nodded toward the closed door—“will rule more than just Attolia before he is done. He is an Annux, a king of kings.”
