“She sent word yesterday.” She tsks at my continued astonishment. “You’d know if you paid attention to your schedule.”
I lower my voice to lessen the echo through the rotunda. “I do pay attention.”
“Not close enough.” Natesa adjusts my sagging collar. “I’m sending a tailor to your chambers. You need more appropriate attire.”
“The clothes you prefer are restrictive.” The garments are uncomfortable, unduly ostentatious, and difficult to climb in. “Did Pons say when I’ll be alone in my library?”
Natesa pats my chest. “Go dress for supper, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me when this constant schedule ends or I won’t move.”
“Then you’ll be a very hungry prince, won’t you?” Natesa swivels me around and gives me a push toward the stairs. “Wear the black-and-gold tunic and turban. It’s Gemi’s favorite.”
That outfit itches, and I can scarcely sit in the trousers. “How do you know?”
“As a woman, I sense these things.”
“Can you sense a man’s irritation?”
“Yes, but it’s easy to ignore. I’m helping you represent your greatest self, Ashwin.”
She is trying not to explode. She has bottled up her apprehension over Kalinda’s journey to be released toward me little by little. I would have preferred she throw a fit.
“I’m not a child for you to order about,” I mutter, marching ahead.
“A child wouldn’t complain so much.” She calls at my back, “Be at your atrium at nine o’clock! Don’t be late or I’ll send Yatin after you.”
Captain Yatin may empathize with me as he regularly tolerates her badgering.
I trudge upstairs, too exasperated to argue. A ruler is ruled by his schedule. This regimented lifestyle is my birthright. There is no bargaining with fate.
The tailor measures the inseam of my leg and scribbles down the number. My trousers are too short for what is fashionable. I suppose I should care, but I envy the humble white robes the brethren wear and the loose trousers of the working men. This gaudy embroidery suited my father more than me.
Yatin enters my chamber short-winded. “Your Majesty, a crowd gathered to protest your betrothal. I sent out guards to disband the mob, and the protestors attacked a soldier.”
“How is he?”
“Our healers are with him in the infirmary. He was beaten badly.”