Do my friends like me. Do I have any friends. That sort of thing.” He tilted his head. “It’s almost as if somebody close to him, somebody he trusts, has given him reason to act the protective brother. It’s quite sweet, really.”
“I never told him there was anything between us.”
“But you let him think it. I assume you have reasons.” He stretched his thin arms out along the edge of the pool. “My darling love, are you untrue, so soon? Do we need to revisit the pregnancy discussion? If you’re relying on those sachets, I wouldn’t. Of course I don’t have much personal experience with them, but I’ve known ladies who swore they actually got pregnant faster while using them.”
“None of that is any of your business.”
“Oh,” he said, “but when the Seneschal has let it be generally known that any courtier caught unawares with you—as I might be, at this very moment—will experience the immediate removal of most of themselves back to their home provinces, it is, indeed, my business. The parts of me that he would keep—well, I would miss them, even if you would not.”
Startled, she said, “They’d do that?”
“They do it quite regularly to the staff. Not as a matter of course, but it happens—particularly if there’s a valuable skill worth preserving. If I remember correctly, the last one was a carpenter. Apparently quite good with his tools, as it were. The laundry girl he got pregnant wasn’t so lucky, of course, but they rarely are. Now, a courtier—that hasn’t happened in many years, but it has happened. The House Magus does it, in that case. They’ll usually take the fruit but leave the tree, which is something, I suppose. Still, not an experience I’d like to have.” His tone made her feel cold despite the hot water. “If I’m at risk, I expect to be compensated, in the only coin you have worth spending. Bare your soul, my love. You’ve bared everything else, after all.”
She felt a flutter of panic and pushed it down. She needed Firo on her side. “There is someone.”
“And this someone is inappropriate.”
“For me,” she said bitterly, “everyone is inappropriate.”
He rolled his eyes back toward the ceiling. “That’s a situation I’m familiar with,” he muttered. Then, more normally, “Well, if it were a courtier, I’d know. The young lord isn’t clever enough to carry off the subterfuge, and he’s too obvious, anyway. The other young lord is too—oblivious. So it must be staff, or one of the guards.” An unfamiliar expression came over his face. It took her a moment to recognize it as puzzlement.
Before the question she saw there could make it to his mouth, she said, “Will you warn me if you plan to leave the city?”
“Why? So you can write me love letters?” Suddenly, with a swoosh and swirl of water, he was directly in front of her, one arm on either side of her body, pinning her against the edge of the bath. He wasn’t touching her but if she moved at all—even to curl her body into itself—he would be. She froze. The steam had smudged the kohl and lash-black around his eyes and left him looking haunted, and very fierce, as he gave her a hard, piercing look.
“Before the ball, the Seneschal asked me if I’d ever considered marrying again,” he said. “Was he thinking of you?”
“Not anymore.” Her voice sounded tough, she was glad to hear. Inside, she was horrified: by his proximity, by his nudity, by her own.
“Why are you so confident about that?”
“He told me so.”
“He told me he wouldn’t give you to me, specifically? Or anyone?” She didn’t answer. Firo’s eyes narrowed. “Is he the one you’re fucking? Does he intend to keep you for himself?” She managed a disdainful glare and he said, as if thinking aloud, “No. He’s stone, through and through. So he’s staff, your secret lover—or she is. But why does it matter?” He still looked fierce, but now the ferocity was tempered with fascination. “Courtiers go through staff like kindling. Nobody cares. You’re not a courtier, but—”
Suddenly she’d had enough. “Get away.”
He didn’t move. “Why can’t you fuck staff, dear? What’s so special about you?”
She put both hands on his chest—cringing at the feel of his wet skin and the sparse crisp hair under her palms—and pushed with all the force of her arms, pressing her back against the stone edge of the pool for leverage. The water churned dramatically, but he only pivoted, settling down