Chapter Seventy-Nine: Same, Unchanged

The next morning, Emre seemed worse.

“I’ll be fine once Cemil breaks the loop,” he continued to insist. “I just need to get to Elmaluk. I don’t want to drain either of you more than I have.”

He maintained this obvious farce until they had embarked on a long, forested stretch of road, which diverged from the comfort of the running river, and then there was no disguising it. Osmund pulled off his riding gloves again, determined that he should be the one to do this—normal feeling had returned to his fingertips, so he felt comfortable with his limits—but Sakina stepped in front. “You know the ‘skin contact’ method isn’t the most efficient,” she said enigmatically. “It’s slow. And there’s a lot lost in the transfer.”

This was the first Osmund had heard of an alternative. “Alright, what should we do then?”

Whatever it was, Emre was already cringing, his face bright red. “It isn’t that inefficient…”

“Don’t be a baby,” she said sternly, looking down at him. “Unless you find me that ugly?”

Osmund choked, looking between Emre’s bright blush and Sakina’s insecurity, which manifested as anger. “Do you mean—you two would have to, um—if you need me to leave I can—”

Sakina dropped her head and quietly laughed. “Sex is one way,” she allowed, “but a kiss is better.”

A kiss! That made sense. Osmund remembered hearing that the mouth, and thus the breath, were the main conduits for magic in the body. “So does that mean when we—”

He quickly cut himself off, but it was too late. Emre was giving him a look that said shut the hell up, while Sakina’s said no, do go on.

“When you…?” she prompted. “Don’t tell me you two have kissed each other?”

“No,” said Emre stiffly.

“Yes, but it wasn’t—it wasn’t like that, it didn’t mean anything, it was a ploy,” babbled Osmund at the same time.

“Oh? You’ll have to tell the full story. Cemil especially will find it very interesting.”

Emre made a disgruntled noise. “I’m joking,” Sakina said, rolling her eyes. “I know you aren’t trying to ‘steal’ from your brother.”

“It’s constant,” Emre growled. “Our host from last night—”

“Yes, who was very kind to let us stay!”

“—‘You must be so fucking blessed, sir, to have such an upstanding younger brother, who provides for you and gives you everything off his own table.’ As if I have any need of my imperial brother’s scraps!”

Osmund knew exactly what wounded place this was coming from, but Sakina went cold. “Well! I’m sorry I insulted you with the offer. I’d hate for you to be seen with your brother’s unwanted garbage.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh, isn’t it?”

“Stop it!” Both pairs of eyes turned to stare at Osmund. “I’m sick of listening to you fight! We’ll be here all afternoon at this rate, and pushing our poor horses through these woods in the dark! Heavens, I’ll do it if you won’t, but don’t be such children!”

He hadn’t expected his own outburst, nor had the others, who were looking at him as if Banu had suddenly started speaking. Finally Sakina exhaled. It seemed like any moment she would cross her arms and walk away. “Fine,” she said. And she kneeled down over Emre, leaned in, and kissed him.

It wasn’t a quick press of lips. Osmund’s gaze darted aside, and he watched the treetops swaying, green and lively, overhead. Off the road, Banu sniffed around in some grass beside Adalet, while Taylan impatiently stood, swishing his shimmering tail, waiting for the journey to resume. When Osmund turned back, Sakina was drawing away. And without saying another word, she spun and headed for the horses.

Emre looked like he’d just awoken from a very strange dream. He blinked, then turned his head this way and that, blinking again dazedly, as if discovering colors for the first time. “You seem better,” Osmund observed, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“As long as you’re done chewing us out,” the other mumbled, his cheeks flushed. “I’m in for plenty of it already.”

The woods of Elmaluk glowed red in the fading autumn: beeches, firs, and oaks. The horses waded through thick, mushy carpets of shorn leaves.

Afternoon was waning by the time they reached a guard station, where a man rode out to meet them. Seeing Sakina, his face changed to a mask of the gravest respect. “My lady,” he said. “Allow me to escort you. The şehzade awaits your coming.”

The imperial family’s hunting lodge came into view a short while later. Men loitering by the entrance lifted their heads, noticing the new arrivals, and Osmund scanned the anonymous faces of soldiers and grooms and the sons of important men with impatience. A moment, then another, and then there he was.

Cemil stepped from the front doors onto the portico. He was the same, unchanged: perpetually mussed hair half-tied back, a very small smile on his face. Yet as Osmund watched, that smile grew brighter and brighter.

Sakina made it out of the saddle first, and embraced him. Then she pulled back. Her mouth moved in the shape of Emre’s name.

A servant brought Adalet forward. On the horse’s back, Emre’s upright posture was again failing. Cemil spoke a few words to his brother. Words, hopefully, that would relieve the curse of the seal currently ravaging him. “Get some rest,” Osmund overheard at the end, and Emre went conspicuously rigid, nodding placidly. Cemil’s gaze grew hooded with concern. “…Did I just compel you again?”

“This curse is a bitch,” Emre agreed humorlessly.

“Then, never mind. I would like it if you got some rest,” Cemil amended uncomfortably. “Was that phrasing better?”

“Better.”

“You’ll be placed in the spare room. I’ll come by to make sure you’re recovering.”

Cemil helped him dismount. Sakina took Emre by the arm and led him into the house. Then at last the Meskato prince’s eyes turned upon Osmund and Banu. The chestnut horse nickered in greeting. “I haven’t forgotten about you, old friend.” Cemil teasingly addressed the mare first. “Anaya will be in a sweeter temper with you around.”

Osmund slid from the saddle straight into Cemil’s waiting arms. “I’m glad to see your face,” the Meskato prince murmured by his ear. He kissed him deeply. Then again. “How was the journey?”

“I missed you,” Osmund babbled, past caring if they were seen or heard. Everything else was irrelevant noise. “A full month…”

“Endless,” Cemil agreed quietly, taking up a lock of Osmund’s hair and tucking it behind his ear. “Your natural color is showing.”

“My roots? I hope it’s not obvious.”

“No. Not obvious at all. I was just looking for it.”

Cemil kissed him yet again, then held him apart, reluctant. “I should check in on my brother,” he said. “I’ll find you soon. While I’m gone, there’s someone here you should meet.”

Osmund did not have time to wonder at the significance in his tone, for in the next moment everything else dropped out of his mind and puddled uselessly on the floor.

Standing behind Cemil was a man. The man was blond and reasonably handsome, with sea-green eyes and an uncomplicated smile. His doublet was velvet blue. And on his brow, unmistakeable, he wore the golden coronet of Valcrest.

“It’s a pleasure to meet my fellow countryman,” said the impostor, extending a white-gloved hand. “I understand we share a given name. I’m Osmund, your prince.”