“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me, my lord.”
“My lord,” Geder said. “It’s only us here. You don’t have to do that. But Cithrin is a singular woman. She’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s powerful in her way. And once I’m not Lord Regent anymore, I’m only going to be Baron Ebbingbaugh, and even then, I don’t know that she’d care to be a baroness. And of course there would be a scandal because she isn’t of the noble class, and Aster would have to induct someone with Cinnae blood—”
“You’re asking,” Jorey said, “how to woo her?”
“I am,” Geder said. “I don’t know. You’re my only friend who’s ever won a woman. How did you make Sabiha love you?”
Jorey blew out a long breath and sat back in his chair. His eyes were wide and he shook his head like a man trying to wake from a dream. “Geder, you never fail to surprise me. I … I don’t think what happened with me and Sabiha will help you. The situation was so different from what you’re saying.”
“I don’t need you to write letters for me,” Geder said, with a laugh meant to lighten the mood. “It’s just I’ve never done this before. And I’m afraid … I’m afraid she’ll laugh at me. Isn’t that silly? Here I am, the most powerful man in the world, for the time being, and I am so desperately afraid she’ll think I’m funny.”
“You aren’t,” Jorey said. “You’re a thousand different things, but funny isn’t one.”
“Thank you,” Geder said. “What … what can you tell me? How do I write to her? What do I say?”
A servant’s footsteps came down the corridor, paused, and then trotted away quickly. Sabiha was keeping the world at bay. Geder felt a little warmth in his heart for her, just for that.
“What did I do? I talked to her. And I listened to her. I don’t know, Geder. It wasn’t a campaign of war. I didn’t draw battle plans. I saw her at some function. I don’t even recall what, and I thought she was handsome and smart and had twice the soul and spine of anyone else in the room. I wanted to know her better, and I asked for the pleasure of her company.”
“And then it just happened,” Geder said.
“Well, no. There was a time she thought I was just looking to get her skirts up for a few minutes and then never speak to her again, and that took some getting past. And I wasn’t always my best self then either. But we came to understand each other. Trust each other.” Jorey raised his hands, helpless.
“And the other?” Geder asked.
“The other?”
Geder looked down. His skin felt like it was burning in the sun. He wanted nothing in the world more than to leave now. Walk away and pretend the conversation had never taken place. Except he needed to know, and there was no one else he could ask. When he spoke, his voice was low and steeped in shame.
“How do you tell a woman that you … want her?”
“Oh,” Jorey said. And then, “God.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just … I don’t know. I’m vaguely grateful and amazed every time Sabiha comes to my bed, and we’re married. How do you tell her? Honestly? Gently. With humor or soberly. Howl it at the moon. I don’t know.”
Relief flooded Geder’s heart like water on a fire.
“I thought I was the only one,” he said.
“No,” Jorey said. “I think men have been trying to find the way to say that for all the generations there have ever been, and the fact that there are generations at all means we must get it right sometimes.”
“Thank you, Jorey,” Geder said. “I should get back to the Kingspire, I think. I have a letter I need to write.”
“Yes,” Jorey said. Just as Geder reached the door, he spoke again. “Good luck, my lord.”
The carriage drove through the night, wheels clattering against cobbles, horseshoes striking stone. Geder leaned against the thin wood and looked out through the window.
“Cithrin,” he said under his breath, “I think men have tried for all the generations there have been to say what I am trying to say now, and that there are generations means they got it right sometimes.”
He could do this. And if he stumbled and got some things wrong, it would be all right. She would understand. It