lady already,” Kouje said quietly. For the first time that morning, I could feel him relax.
After that, Ryu began to tune his instrument, and Goro began to sing the prince’s solo—something about, as I’d suspected, the cruelty of fate and the loss of palace life—and I could not even see the border crossing disappear behind us, as one by one the actors and the jugglers and the musicians and even Aiko began to laugh and joke again, about nothing and everything at once. They were relieved. We all were. And we were in the next province; the first border crossing was finished and done.
“You’d best not run off with a border guard,” Kouje murmured. “They live a hard life, you know. It’s not all palace living and fine parties.”
“I hadn’t once thought of it,” I replied, gripping his hand. “Besides, I’ve heard the women at the palace can be so cruel to one another.”
“And he’d never be home,” Kouje added. “Always off for this or that.”
“All right, you lovebirds,” Aiko said, clapping Kouje on the back. “No need to make us all jealous. We’ll be stopping in town soon enough, and we’re expecting a performance this evening, so prepare yourselves for some hard work. You too, seamstress,” she added, but she didn’t quite look at me—as though she were unable to meet my eyes.
CAIUS
I’d done something wonderful, but of course Alcibiades wasn’t going to be pleased.
We both needed something to take our minds off trouble “at home,” or at least “at the palace.” I could have grown used to living in such a place—except for the spying, of course, which didn’t bother me as much as it did Alcibiades, yet nonetheless was a point of some concern for both of us—but that was neither here nor there where Alcibiades was concerned. We’d been here a day short of one month precisely. A distraction was necessary, and I had just the means for it.
“The theatre,” Alcibiades said flatly.
“The theatre,” I repeated. Sometimes it was very difficult to get anything at all through his head.
“You want me to go to the theatre,” Alcibiades said.
“I want you to go to the theatre,” I confirmed. “Don’t worry—I hear it’s all very exciting. I’m sure you won’t fall asleep right away.”
“I hate the theatre,” Alcibiades said. “I hate the theatre in Volstov, and I hate it here.” He leaned against the wall of my room and glowered at the ceiling, very much like a little boy in the midst of a good, long sulk.
“You can’t possibly know that if you’ve never been,” I tried to reason with him, though why I thought reason would be effectual, I’ll never know.
“Yes,” Alcibiades said, “I can. I’m not going, and that’s the end of it.”
The door separating our rooms snicked shut behind him as he left, but it was no fun sulking without an audience and I knew he’d be back. I didn’t have to be a velikaia to see very clearly exactly what he was doing in his room: checking his cheeks in the mirror to see whether or not he needed a shave in general, and whether or not he needed a shave now that he was going to the theatre with me tonight. His brow was furrowed beneath his unkempt hair while he pondered the best way to agree to the theatre because he truly was interested, even if he refused to admit it. For now that he’d been so adamant about not attending, capitulating was quite difficult.
I knew him so very well. It was a pity he didn’t know himself better.
Five minutes later, just as I was setting out that evening’s outfit for him, I heard the door slide open.
“What’s it about?” he asked. “The play, I mean. Some stupid history? If there’s singing, I’m not going.”
I whirled around, trying my very best not to look as though I’d been expecting that. My face was the very picture of surprise. At least, I hoped it was. I was an appreciator of the theatre, but never an actor myself.
“Oh, do come and get dressed,” I implored him, not entirely answering his question. I had a tragic dearth of knowledge when it came to Ke-Han theatre. I only knew what I’d managed to squeeze out of Lord Temur, that there were familiar stories, changed and updated according to the tastes of the people but never truly different. There was something delightfully traditional about it, and wicked as well, since as I understood things, it was a