Samir looked at his own professionally manicured, hairless fingers, pale and almost slim compared to Warrehn’s, and wondered what they would look like against Warrehn’s larger, bronzed hand.
He blinked at the bizarre thought and pushed it away, straightening in his chair and dragging his eyes from Warrehn’s hand. It was neither the time nor the place to entertain inane thoughts. He was seated next to the king and the court was watching them.
Thankfully, he was so used to the court days that greeting nobles and murmuring pleasantries was second nature to him; he could do it in his sleep.
Unlike him, Warrehn clearly felt out of his element. He still didn’t know most of these people well, and his grim silence and abrupt manner didn’t exactly endear him to anyone.
Samir suppressed a wince when Warrehn barely glanced at Lord Vahir when the man bowed to him. That was such a huge mistake. Lord Vahir was one of the most influential lord-vassals of their grand clan. He was a very proud, very vain man—he would consider Warrehn’s dismissive attitude a deliberate slight.
Samir glanced at his mother at the other end of the courtroom and found her smiling a little as she waited for Lord Vahir’s reaction. She didn’t have to wait long.
“I wonder, Your Majesty,” Lord Vahir said, his tone very polite. “How come Prince Eridan chose to return to the austere life of a monk over a life in this splendid palace with his only living relative? I’m sure you are not to blame, but it seems… odd. I wonder what made him so unhappy here.”
Murmurs rolled through the room.
Samir barely kept his expression neutral. While he had expected some kind of retribution for the perceived slight, he hadn’t expected that Vahir would dare to insinuate that there must have been something wrong with Eridan’s relationship with the king for Eridan to leave so abruptly. It was very clever, Samir had to admit. Or foolish—if the way Warrehn’s telepathic presence darkened with anger was any indication.
Samir shivered, glancing at Warrehn’s stony face. Those hard blue eyes were now giving Vahir their full attention, and Vahir shifted a little, clearly somewhat nervous. Samir could relate: he could attest that being the object of that intensity was highly unsettling.
Everyone in the court seemed to be holding their breaths as they expected the king to react to the not-so-subtle insult. Knowing Warrehn’s temper, Samir half-expected him to explode, but he looked surprisingly calm, his face betraying nothing.
When Warrehn spoke, his voice was hard and flat. “I imagine he left for the same reason your eldest son left your clan, Lord Vahir.”
Vahir paled and then flushed as another wave of whispers rolled through the room. Vahir’s heir had famously refused to come back to Calluvia after finishing his education on another planet. Only Vahir’s immense influence had stopped his family from becoming the subject of ridicule and nasty gossip. Heirs to noble Calluvian families simply didn’t leave their fortunes like that. Something had to be amiss. But no one spoke of that scandal anymore—Vahir had hushed it up well.
Samir was torn between laughing and facepalming. Warrehn’s response was so unwise, so horrible politically, but it had sure put Vahir in his place and would teach him not to insult the king to his face.
Warrehn smiled at Vahir, a cold smile that was all teeth and didn’t reach his eyes. “Just like your former heir, my brother has found another calling. Who are we to stop them from pursuing it?”
Vahir bowed. “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he ground out and then bowed again and left. Halfway to the door, Dalatteya approached Vahir and tucked her hand into his elbow. They left the room together, speaking quietly.
Suppressing a sigh, Samir murmured, just for Warrehn’s ears, “That was very entertaining, but very unwise.”
Warrehn shifted his heavy gaze to him for the first time that evening. “Is that a threat?”
Laughing a little, Samir shook his head. “No. I’m just stating the obvious. Your PR team is going to chew you out for this. Mine would for sure if I publicly humiliated one of the most influential lord-vassals of our clan.”
Warrehn’s brows drew together. He looked away, before looking back at Samir, and then averted his gaze again, his hand gripping the armrest of the throne. “I hate politics.”
“I’ve noticed,” Samir said wryly. “But you’ll have to pay attention to the politics if you don’t want your approval ratings to drop like a rock. Do you have any idea how much influence lords like Vahir have?”
“Why are you being so talkative and helpful all of a sudden?” Warrehn said, without looking at him. “If this is another attempt to seduce me with lovely smiles, don’t waste your time. I’m not buying what you’re selling.”
Lovely smiles?
“I’m just making conversation,” Samir said. “Or am I not allowed to talk to you, Your Majesty?”