"This is nice," said Finny, "But I like the mountains in Busk better."

She sat beside me on the soft white sand of the lagoon's beach, arms draped over her legs. Peals of laughter echoed in the bluffs as children chased each other through crystalline waters. The salty breeze played in my hair, and the sun warmed my skin. In that tranquility, I could almost forget I was in a land ruled by cruel appetites and unknowable machinations.

Almost.

"Why?" I said.

"I guess I'm more of a climber than a swimmer."

"You're a climber, huh? Then why did I have to carry you through most of our Busk hike?"

She flashed an angelic smile. "Because I climbed you."

I reached up to shove her shoulder. She fell sideways into the sand, giggling.

"You have spent too much time with Aunt Mitzy," I told her.

She sat back up and brushed sand from her shirt sleeve. "I heard Aunt Mitzy arguing with Father before we left. She didn't want us to come here. Why not?"

I hesitated for a moment, trailing my fingers through the sand. "Aunt Mitzy thinks Rakim could be dangerous."

Finny laughed. "She's crazy. This is not dangerous." Then she caught my expression, and her voice became small. "Is it?"

I scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. "As long as I live, nothing can be dangerous for you."

"If you were trying to comfort me just now, you did a very bad job."

I reached up to stroke a hand over her hair, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. Silently, we looked out at the lagoon.

I found my gaze drawn to a ledge halfway back on the left. He sits up on that ledge after lunch every day, absorbed in some stupid novel. I shaded my eyes from the sun to study the area. Of course, no one was there. I wondered if Niako ever returned to that spot after the day I pushed him into the water.

Finny's voice speared my thoughts. "He is very handsome, isn't he?"

The bottom dropped out of my gut. Finny was starting to think of boys as handsome? I glared at the group of children, but I had no idea which had struck her fancy. 

"The gangly one? Or the one with hair like a cockatoo?"

She snorted. "No, Toom. I mean Niako."

I blinked at her. "Finny, he's... he's twenty-five."

And interested in men.

And possibly plotting against our family.

She gave a dramatic eye roll. "I know. I mean for you. I saw the way you looked at him."

"You... I... the way I looked at him?"

"Though I do kind of wish he had a brother my age."

"Please don't wish for that. Niako already has one brother too many."

Finny's brow scrunched. "Wasn't there a sister, too?"

"Yes," I said, "But she —" I paused, realizing I didn't really know Trebalda's story. The men in the tavern claimed she was exiled, but I remembered Niako saying she disowned the family because she was disgusted by their ways.

I finished with the one thing I knew for certain. "She left to start her own tribe."

"I think I would like her," said Finny. "Can we visit her tribe someday?"

"Maybe." I pushed to my feet. "Come, let's get back to the tent."

As we left the beach, Stro and two other guards peeled their backs from trees to follow. We weaved through the woods until the plants gave way to the central plaza. The polished marble floors and gold pillars sparkled so brightly in the sunlight that I had to squint to make out the rusted copper and washed out burgundy of the Royal Tent at the center.

The moment we entered the tent, the lagoon's serenity shattered.

The harsh spice of prak assaulted my nostrils. My father was alone and staring ahead blankly, hand draped over a half-finished bottle on the table beside him.

My jaw clenched. Drinking at three in the afternoon when we would soon dine with potential enemies was a new low, even for him.

"Toom! I'm glad you are back." My father's voice rang a few decibels too loud. "I need to talk to you."

Finny shrank inward. Biting her lip, she moved toward her section of the tent. I was furious about my father's current state, but I knew something else had upset Finny.

He hadn't greeted her.

"Finny, wait —" I started, but she had already pushed through the flap and disappeared from sight.

I turned back toward my father and crossed my arms over my chest. "You are drinking."

He slid the bottle to the back of the table and patted the chair at his side. "Come sit. I have something important to ask of you."

I stepped forward with a weary sigh and sank down beside him. "Ask."

He leaned too close, the pungent fumes of alcohol on his hot breath. "Tonight at the celebration, I need you to have a good long chat with your friend — what is his name — Niako."

"He's not my friend. You'd remember that if you weren't so drunk."

He ignored the barb. "We need to know what the Rakim tribe is plotting, but Makari and Astoria are unforthcoming, and Makash is... you know what Makash is. Our best chance is you getting Niako to loosen his lips. I hear he sought you out after the Challenge Day competitions this morning. Maybe if you cozy up to him a little, give him a few smiles..."

My stomach churned. "Father... are you asking me to seduce him?"

"It shouldn't be hard. You have become a strapping young man."

"And you have become a drunken old fool."

He blinked twice, and his eyes narrowed. "Have some respect. I am still your father."

"Regrettably."

That word drove straight through his drunken stupor, and his face twisted as though he had been run through. He dropped back against the chair and exhaled heavily.

"You don't... you can't mean that. Everyone else may want me dead, but I can't bear to hear it from my own son."

My throat tightened. "No one wants you dead, Father."

"But they do." Though his eyes still shone bright from drink, his voice was now solemn. "There are circles of people saying I'm not fit to be King. I need to know where the Rakim tribe stands. I didn't want to ask this of you, Toom, but we are out of other options. For my own safety, but also for you. For Finny."

He spoke her name so rarely that the sound of it on his lips still surprised me. He said it sweetly, carefully, but with something ragged beneath, as if he had ripped the two syllables out from his own heart.

"So now you care about Finny," I said. My voice sounded harsh to my own ears — harsher than I had intended. Years of holding my tongue combined with the stress of the last day had exhausted my self-restraint.

He shut his eyes for a beat. When he opened them, they glistened. "I have always cared about Finny."

"Then why do you ignore her? It kills her, you know. No matter how hard she tries to not let it."

His chest deflated, shoulders curving in. "Toom, I look at her, and all I can see is my hair, my eyes, my nose, my stubborn nature... my fault. What happened to Lessy was all my fault."

"It wasn't your fault. And this self-flagellation must end."

"But Toom, listen, if I hadn't —"

"No, damn it, you listen to me." I glanced toward the flap to Finny's quarters and dropped my voice. "Each time you blame yourself, Finny thinks you are blaming her. She is only ten years old, and she already shoulders the burden of your grief."

He swallowed hard enough that I heard an audible clicking sound in his throat, and his head lolled to hang between his shoulders. "If Lessy could see me now, she wouldn't even recognize me."

I couldn't argue with that. Only a hollowed shell remained of the man he had once been. I had spent much of the previous ten years resenting him for it. Watching him drown in grief after Mother died, unable to walk, to eat, to breathe... able only, as it turned out, to drink.

But I couldn't hate him.

"Do you really think our best chance is for me to get information from Niako?" I asked.

He stared at his shaking hands in his own lap. "It's too much to ask of you, isn't it? I will find another way."

"No." I gripped his trembling fingers. "I'll do it, Father — for you, and for Finny. But how?"

He squeezed my hand, gaze still downcast. "I've heard Niako is fond of prak... perhaps you can get drunk together?"

"Father, you know I don't —"

Then I hesitated, looking at his hand clasping mine. Though my own was only slightly larger, I had the strange sensation I was holding the hand of a frightened boy.

"I will have one drink," I said. "If I nurse it slowly, I can pretend I am drinking much more, and Niako will not hold back. Then I can invite him to leave with me, and..." I trailed off, remembering Niako's easy manipulation, but also the unnerving way he shrank from my touch in the colosseum. I was afraid of him cornering me.

But I didn't enjoy the thought of cornering him, either.

"And challenge him to a game of Gold or Glamour?" my father said.

I huffed a despairing laugh and shook my head. "Oh Goddess, Gold or Glamour? If that's our best plan, we're in trouble."

He laughed too, a soft chuffing sound that ended in a sniffle. "Well, we still have three hours. With our two great minds working together, we will think of something better."

* * *

We didn't think of anything better.

Instead, my father decided to have "just a tad" more prak to calm his nerves. He poured one glass. Another. Then he proceeded to chug straight from the bottle until I wrested it from him. He responded to this loss by collapsing into a weeping puddle while Brosia cradled his head and dabbed away his tears.

Three hours later, I was almost happy to meet Makari at the entrance to the palace. At least it distracted me from the desire to strangle my father.

Despite Brosia's best efforts to make my father look presentable and disguise the smell of prak, Makari seemed to surmise my father's state of inebriation. Something like pity flashed behind his handsome features, and he smiled a little too brightly and patted my father's shoulder.

On the bright side, Makari had clearly dismissed my father as a potential threat for tonight. I needed to convince Niako to do the same — without compromising my ability to function.

Makari ushered us inside and led us down the hallway. I was surprised to see numerous new copper statues of unrecognizable gods, all vaguely humanoid but with various deformities. Knuckles brushed the ground, talons curled from fingers and toes, slit nostrils replaced noses. The new gods all but obscured the gold statues of Goddess Rashika.

I paused to inspect one of the new statues more closely and found the 'copper' was only painted wood. Makari turned back, following my gaze.

"Ah, you noticed our additions?" he said. "Those are the Fallen Gods, of course — the ones who challenged Goddess Rashika. We display them here every year between Challenge Day and Day of Truth."

Makari resumed walking, and my father and I followed him into the same formal dining room where we had once sat through the odious Serving Ceremony. I managed a brief glance at the five men and three women encircling the table before one man stole all of my attention.

Niako wore a simple but shockingly flattering navy blue frock with fine woven material that cut in from his shoulders toward his narrow waist, accentuating the lean lines of his body. His hair was combed with one glossy ringlet tumbling over his forehead. He spoke to the Rakim advisor seated across from him with a smile just as practiced and insincere as his mother's .

This was the man who had recoiled at my touch earlier that day?

As my father and I approached the table, Niako's eyes locked on mine. His expression barely changed, but his breath hitched. Was he also remembering the moment his mask had slipped — and wondering what I might do with what I had seen?

I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Relax, I wanted to tell him. I don't want to use your fears against you.

I just want to get you drunk and steal your family's secrets.

He blinked once and averted his gaze.

We were shown to the same seats we had sat in ten years prior, with Makari on my father's right and Niako on my left. The moment we were seated, servers brought tiny clear glasses filled with speckled amber liquid I now knew as prak.

Makari asked us to down the drinks in a single gulp to initiate the Challenge Day dinner. Out of eleven present, I was the only one who struggled to force the burning liquid down. When I came up spluttering with the little glass still half full, the room erupted into laughter. Even my father roared, clapping my shoulder as though he had not a care in the world.

Then again, he was wasted. 

A Kalasiki advisor I recognized as Pilar reached past Niako to pat my hand delicately. Despite her large Adam's apple, her smokey eye make-up and ruby lips now made her gender clear. "Oh dear, you must be used to Fooja's sweet nool." She winked at me. "I'm afraid Rakim prefers a bit more kick."

I had never actually tasted Fooja's nool, but the liquor's saccharine smell on my father's breath always made me gag. Still, nool could not be as bad as prak.

"Mm," I said, afraid that opening my mouth would lead to another fit of coughing. I reached for the chalice set before me, hoping to quash the fire.

The chalice also contained prak.

Across from Niako, a beefy Rakim advisor with red hair and a deep tan launched into a story about finding Paksha She-Monsters while out fishing. He ostensibly addressed Niako, but his eyes kept flitting to Pilar. Niako obliged him with all the right responses while side-glancing me.

"Oh, Torvic," Pilar said after the man described his harrowing escape. "You do fabricate stories in a most delightful manner."

He flung up his hands in mock outrage even as a grin spread over his face. "My dear Pilar, how you mock me. I swear to Goddess it is all true!"

"A good story, regardless," said Astoria. "We can all drink to that." She gave a pointed glance at my mostly full chalice.

I reluctantly joined the rest of the table in taking a swig.

"If the story had been about Paksha He-Monsters, I might have actually believed it," said Pilar as she set down her chalice. "But Torvic, I know you would never be able to escape from women."

Makari chuckled. "Oh, Pilar. If Kalasiki had it their way, women would rule all across Najila."

"And what a travesty that would be," said Astoria. A dangerous undertone twisted her melodic voice.

A small man piped up from the other end of the table. "Chief, I hear your daughter is doing quite well leading her own tribe up north. Some say she takes after the Blessed Pair!"

Makash beat both fists against the table, causing Torvic to jolt in his seat. Makash's glare fixed somewhere behind my head, and his nostrils flared with each breath.

Astoria laid a delicate hand over one of his meaty fists. "Makash took it very hard when Trebalda abandoned our family," she told the rest of the table.

"Trebalda abandoned the family?" said the same man. "I thought she was exiled."

Makash jumped to his feet, snatched up his chalice, and pivoted to fling it at the stone behind him. The chalice smacked the wall with a violent clatter, amber liquid spraying across the floor. Then he stomped out of the room.

For a moment, everyone stared after him in silence.

Then Torvic said, "Did I ever tell you all about the time I fought back a herd of demonic goats?"

The atmosphere relaxed. Unfortunately, my plan to take tiny sips or swap my drink for water was sabotaged by the attentions of both Astoria and Niako. Their predatory eyes never left me for long, not even as they swigged from their own chalices. When I finished my first, the heat in my throat unfurled through my body.

A server stepped forward to refill my mug as I set it down.

"You finally finished one," said Niako. It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. He was still smiling at Torvic, who was lost in exuberant story-telling.

"I think I'm getting used to it," I said. Truly, the burn was becoming almost pleasant. I lifted my newly-filled chalice. "A drink for your victory this morning?"

Niako smiled and chinked his chalice against mine. His eyes were beginning to glaze. Perhaps the plan was going better than expected.

I took a swig as Niako tipped his head back and killed his third cup. The server refilled it the moment it touched the table.

While everyone else erupted into laughter at some punchline I was not following, Niako leaned toward me and whispered, "How about a drink for your victory?"

The pleasant buzz muddled my thoughts. "My victory?"

Niako's eyes flicked across the table, and he pressed his lips together. I turned to see Astoria's sharp gaze pinning Niako even as she continued to chuckle with the rest of the group.

The food was served, tiny decadent morsels arranged beautifully on the plates. As we began eating, Makash reentered the room, calm and composed as ever. His arm draped over a tall naked woman painted gold from head to toe.

"I thought Gold could join us for dinner tonight," he announced.

I knew better than to ask, but the prak in my bloodstream did not. "But I remember Gold. He was a man."

Makash sat down, pulling Gold into his lap. "That was ten years ago. No Claimed stays interesting that long." He grabbed a bit of food and popped it into the new Gold's mouth.

"It must be fifteen years now that you have had Obsidian," said Pilar.

Makash shrugged. "Obsidian paints my other Claimed."

I picked at the food, my appetite diminished. Still, I needed something to temper the creeping burn of alcohol.

"That reminds me," said Pilar, "We need to talk about Trog. Chief, if you would like, Kalasiki can support your efforts to regain control of the Paksha Sea."

Chief Makari dabbed his mouth. "Thank you, Pilar, but we have it under control. Trog has been anticipating our every move, but we have a plan now that they will never see coming. We will launch a quick attack and then retreat, drawing their fleet —"

"Now, now," said Astoria. "No strategy talk at dinner." Her gaze swept to me, and she gave an encouraging smile. "Your Highness, I do hope you feel at home here in Rakim. There is no need to hold back." She nodded toward my chalice.

Around the table, heads swiveled toward me.

I forced a smile. "Of course. The people of Rakim have treated me with nothing but kindness." I lifted the chalice to my lips for another sip.

"That's right," said Niako. "And no one would dare touch a prince."

His foot pressed down on mine.

My fogged brain couldn't determine if his action was a threat or a flirt. My stirring cock didn't much care either way. Especially when he shot me that knowing smile.

I tipped the chalice to take a bigger gulp than before and set it down too hard. The cup nearly tipped over. Niako's hand shot out to steady it.

On second thought, perhaps the plan was not going so well.

I pushed to my feet, and the room swayed. "I think I need to freshen up," I declared to no one in particular.

"Of course," said Astoria. "Niako will show you to the nearest washroom."

My father clasped my arm and met my eye, tilting his head toward Niako. His face flushed red, and strands of graying hair clung to his shining forehead.

I wanted to curse at him. Instead, I nodded. If I wanted to draw Niako away from the others, I would receive no better opportunity.

Niako rose to his feet and started toward the door. I followed him through the forbidding family room and into a hallway. He opened a door on the left and lifted a hand to wave me in.

"Thanks," I said. But instead of moving, I just stared at the washroom through the open door. Predictably, it was carved from marble and gold.

"Toom? You alright?"

I turned back to see Niako's raised eyebrows. I licked my lips and rubbed my sweaty palms against my trousers, feeling strangely as though I was about to ask him on a date.

"Do you... do you want to go get some fresh air?"

The fever in his eyes made my skin hot. "Now? With you? What for?"

I glanced over my shoulder back toward the family room, mostly to evade those burning eyes. "We can find someplace quiet and celebrate Challenge Day with a game of Gold or Glamour."

A few beats of silence. Then he said, "I don't know that game."

"I can teach you."

I forced myself to look back at his face, and for a moment, I felt he saw straight through the ruse. But when he spoke, he only said, "Fine. Fresh air sounds good."

I relieved myself inside the washroom and splashed cold water over my face. To my dismay, this neither sobered me up nor calmed my tingling nerves.

When I left the washroom, Niako was no longer there, and my heart did a curious dip. Then, footsteps. I turned to see him strolling toward me, holding the neck of a bottle of prak between two fingers.. He had replaced his pointed formal shoes with black boots, fitted up to his midcalf.

"Stro must be waiting on the front steps," Niako said. "And he'll want to follow us."

"Yes."

"Ruck will follow, too."

"I assumed as much."

"Do you want them there?"

I blinked. "Do I — what do you mean?"

"I know a secret exit to the palace. If you want, we can lose them both."

In truth, my father had ordered not only Stro but also three other guards to wait at the entrance to watch for me and Niako. He would not approve of me following Niako away from the guards through unknown territory. But the alcohol warming my veins and the stir of giddy anticipation drowned out my hesitation.

"Lead the way."