4
"Oh, shut up and go away both of you. It's not my fault I had the sense to choose an assassin."
Aradishir gave Reza another look, something pensive and faintly amused that Bakhtiar didn't follow.
As they clearly weren't going anywhere, he heaved a loud, dramatic sigh, handed off the earrings to Kurosh, and said, "Would you like to stay and listen to poetry with me? Or Taher can read something else."
"Ooh, I want to listen, poetry is so much better aloud," Jahanara said.
"I'll call for more wine, my princess, and the others, if it's all right for them to join us?" her concubine asked, and at Bakhtiar's nod added, "Thank you, Your Highness. We're most honored to enjoy your company for a time."
Bakhtiar waved the words aside, and gestured for Taher to resume as they all got settled.
***
"Lord Messar," Shahjahan said.
"Surprising no one, it is Lord Messar who arranged the attempt on your life."
"You should let me deal with him," Kurosh said.
"I wish I could," Shahjahan replied, "but alas we must deal with him properly. Which unfortunately means solid proof, which we don't have because he is unfortunately smart."
"Not that smart if his immediate reaction to being rightfully called out on his childish behavior was to have me killed." Bakhtiar accepted the sip of wine Farrokh offered up. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd been hurt, and after much whining and pleading he'd been allowed out to the royal gardens.
Shahjahan had come to see him not long after he'd settled. Bakhtiar could not recall the last time his father had spent such time with him. They always had other things to do. It was nicer than he'd ever admit aloud.
"It was more than the banquet, though I'm certain that hastened him to immediate rather than measure action. No, this was definitely my fault. I was worried about you after you left my office, despite your insistence you were fine. I heard you ask for those cards you carried to be thrown away and took them instead."
"Oh," Bakhtiar said, not certain what else to say, feeling strangely awkward.
They were his notes and his speech, things his father would have heard anyway once he stood before the council.
Still, while on the cards they were his words alone, and by that point he'd accepted no one else would ever hear them.
"I am sorry, Bakhti. I underestimated how important this matter was to you, and I also failed to appreciate just how bad the situation was, as I've never had anything to do with gambling at all and it seemed a smaller matter in my mind than it clearly is. So I put the matter back on the agenda myself and told them they'd have to wait until the next meeting to repeat their same arguments for the hundredth time. Many of them were rightfully distressed by your proposed changes, but I had no idea they were that angry, that Messar would act so rashly and desperately."
It was Taher, sitting nearby where he'd been reading until Shahjahan arrived, who quietly said, as though uncertain he actually could speak, who said,
"Uncle Hesh speaks of Messar and his gambling halls frequently. His other sources of income are taken and dumped into the gambling halls. I think he has plans to build yet another one. If heavy regulations were to come down, he'd lose a lot of money in a single night, never mind what he would lose over time."
"Not to mention that he's probably in bed with loan spiders in all sorts of ways, and they have a boot on his neck," Kurosh said.
"Bet he's got all sorts of lovely debts we don't know about yet. Would you like me to find them?"
"No," Bakhtiar said firmly.
"You've done enough, you're not supposed to be involved in that life anymore, nevermind the people out there who would still gladly kill you should they happen to see you wandering around. Not that you can't handle yourself, obviously, but I want you safe and sound, please. There's been enough death and almost dying lately."
Kurosh smiled and offered up more wine before finishing the last sip himself.
"We'll need to figure out something, because Bakhti's proposed changes, at least some of which are likely to go through, are a threat to him. We need to find some sort of evidence to get rid of him once and for all."
"Not least of all because if Messar is this angry about changes that haven't even happened yet, the other nobles with ties to the gambling halls are as well, they're just less stupid about it," Farrokh said.
"The last thing we need is them colluding on something more elaborate and deadly."
"We'll figure it out," Witcher said calmly where he lay with his head in Shahjahan's lap.
"For now, try to enjoy the moment, because all too soon you'll be called away, Shah."
"You're right of course," Shah said, stroking his hair.
Nearby, close to Taher, Nandakumar played soft music for them.
"I've had many a request from people who want to challenge you to a game of taaki," Shahjahan said after a few minutes.
"I was quite confused at first, as you've never cared for the game. Even as a child most games bored you because they were too easy. I always assumed taaki was much the same. It was a guard who was finally able to explain to me what happened."
Bakhtiar groaned, head falling back.
"Not this again. Wait, you knew I found it too easy?"
"I am your father, Bahkti. Your teachers complained you were doing your number lessons too quickly, but every answer was correct, every single time, so I wasn't certain what they had to complain about. Granted, I did not realize quite the depth of how good you are at them—"
"Scores of people in the palace are good with numbers, and still more across the country."
"Not that good, my son. People with your level of skill are few and far between. Pattern recognition like yours is even rarer. You've been finding strategy games boring for a very long time. I didn't know, however, that you did not know the skill was valued. Another failing on my part." He sighed.
"That is why I wanted you helping me with the tariff matter that night. I knew precisely how easily you would put them in their place. Again, though, I did not realize you didn't know that. Truly, I do not know how I missed something so important."
Nandakumar looked up from his music and opened his eyes, though his fingers never stilled or even slowed as he spoke.
"I feel there were misunderstandings, and too many things left unsaid, in many directions, my king. What matters is the problems are known now, and hopefully reasons to work harder at communicating instead of taking as understood."
"Yes," Bakhtiar said quietly.
As always seemed to be the case in their lives, a servant approached to call his father away to solve a problem.
"We'll speak again later, Bakhti. Get some rest."
"Yes, Father." He absolutely would not. If he had to 'get some rest' one more damned time before bed, he would do something drastic.
If only they'd let him resume any of his duties, but even sitting in his room doing paperwork was too much, apparently. Overprotective babies, all of them. Only his leg still really pained him, everything else was fading bruises and lingering soreness.
"I suppose I'm going back to my room," he said with a sigh as the others looked at him pointedly, even Reza, who had fallen back into the role of silent, stoic soldier the moment Shahjahan had appeared. Now, though, he relaxed, smiling and teasing almost as freely as Kurosh and Farrokh.
"By your leave, my prince, I'd like to go do some snooping around the palace, at least," Kurosh said.
"If nothing else, I'd like a better understanding of who you've made nervous with your proposed regulations."
"Go, but be safe."
"Always."
When he was gone, Farrokh said, "I'll go with Master Taher to pick out more books to read, bring back wine perhaps?"
"As you wish," Bakhtiar said easily.
"I'm so glad I can have that again. I was truly getting sick of herbal teas."
Taher laughed.
Reza grimaced.
"Herbal teas are the worst. My mother has a hundred of them. If you so much as sneeze somewhere in the house, she will find you and make you drink at least three of them. She gave me one with fennel once and I almost killed her, I swear to the gods. It was foul."
"That sounds like grounds for never speaking to her again, for certain," Bakhtiar said with a laugh, the gestured to Farrokh.
"Go, leave us, Reza will escort me back to my room."
Farrokh gave him a pointed look before departing, taking Taher with him.
"Come on," Bakhtiar said.
"I'll show you more of the secret tunnels."
"I don't think I'm supposed to know about them, let alone familiarizing myself with them."
Bakhtiar winked, which made Reza flush slightly, and led the way from the gardens.
When they entered the secret passages, though, he didn't take the path that would lead to his chambers, instead opting for the one he wasn't supposed to know about yet that would lead him directly outside the palace.
Reaching the door, he discarded all his jewelry but his royal ring, which he strung on a chain around his neck, swapped his palace shoes for 9;,
and pulled l.on a headwrap and short cloak. He shoved his discarded belongings, save his shawl, into the nook he'd taken his spare outdoor clothes from.
The last thing he removed from the nook was a purse filled with coins and jewels, an emergency fund he'd added to infrequently over the years. An obscene amount of money, not meant to be taken out and used all at once.
It would serve his purposes perfectly.
"Your Highness…" Reza said.
"This is precisely the sort of thing you shouldn't be doing, if that door leads where I think it does."
"Stay or go, but I am definitely going," Bakhtiar said.
"Your family and lovers are going to be distressed when they realize you're gone. They're still worried about you."
"They'll have to get over it, because I am taking care of this problem right now."
He unlocked the door from a set of keys even his siblings didn't possess and led them outside. The afternoon was just barely beginning to hint at the coming evening. He didn't have long before someone noticed he wasn't where he should be, though hopefully they'd waste time searching the palace for awhile.
He hated to do that to them, but if he'd tried explaining his plan to anyone they'd have just told him no, and he was determined to do this. If Messar wanted to play, then they'd play. His gambit had been murder.
Bakhtiar's gambit would be money.
Reza groaned.
"I knew you'd be trouble."
Outside, the door closed and locked once more, Bakhtiar leaned against it and pulled Reza in close by his tunic.
"Is that what you did while on duty, faithful protector? Did you think about how much trouble I would be?"
"I—" Reza snapped his mouth shut, then sighed, so close it brushed over Bakhtiar's lips.
"I thought about a lot more than that, my prince."
Bakhtiar smiled.
"Is that what I am? Yours?"
"You know you are," Reza whispered.
"Then be mine."
Reza kissed him in answer, hands slapping against the door on either side of his head as he shifted to get a better angle, pressing all that lovely muscle right up against him, a thigh shoving between his legs like it belonged there.
"I wish you could fuck me right here," Bakhtiar said between kisses.
"Would you fuck me hard, faithful protector, or would you try to be sweet."
Reza groaned and bit at his lips, his jaw, before kissing him properly again. After a moment, though, he pushed away with a muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not here. Not right now. What is this mad quest you're on that is worth upsetting everyone who loves you?"
"I am going to checkmate Messar. Did you know chess can be won in two moves? But only if the first move is phenomenally foolish."
"I thought your brother was the problematic one."
Bakhtiar scoffed.
"Shir just gets caught more often. Believe me when I tell you nobody sneaks out more than Jahanara. You've never heard of her doing it though, have you? Though I don't believe she's bothered since getting married, and certainly not once she became pregnant, and who has time for anything with a child only months old?"
They made it to the city easily enough, and from there it was a quick walk to the Red Lark.
Inside, he handed over his cloak but retained the headwrap and his shawl, pulling it up over his shoulders as they entered the main area of the gambling hall.
Next to him, Reza was tense, looked everywhere at once, hands twitching to go for his hidden knives.
At Kurosh's urging, he had kept to wearing civilian clothes and hidden knives, so that anyone stupid enough to try to attack Bakhtiar would not realize his companion was in fact a guard.
He could not wait to see Reza in harem black. That would definitely be his reward for completing this self-appointed task.
"So what do we do first?" Reza asked, sounding pained.
"You do nothing but look pretty and watch my back. I am going to play cards."
And play cards he did, uncaring when they changed the cards they used, changed the dealer, over and over.
Managers asked him if he'd like to cash out his chips, but he only dismissed them and kept going, appointed one person to keep watch over all the chips he won, another three to keep individual records so nobody could lie about what he'd won, even though he was tracking everything perfectly in his head.
On and on he went, drinking only water or two, stopping only to relieve himself.
They couldn't kick him out for cheating because he wasn't, they were taking all the precautions against such things, and had enough experience to know he was merely counting cards. Child's play.
They also couldn't kick him out simply for winning. A few security guards were sent to threaten him, but Reza addressed that matter immediately and he was left alone after that.
As there were no significant regulations, he could bet as much money as he wanted, which meant his amounts kept growing and growing. All around him people gathered, watching and whispering, kept at bay only by a looming Reza.
Even the staff lingered, their duties forgotten, as they watched him play one game of Pirate after another, expressions a mixture of awe and terror as the amount of money continued to go up and up, far past what anyone thought possible.
They watched as he took everything.
He played until they finally closed at midnight, when by law all businesses except the night market must close. Looking at the dealer, the last of many of them, each one leaving exhausted and scared for their job, he said, "I'd like someone to bring me wine. Something light, sweet."
"We're closed, my lord."
He removed his ring from his chain, showed it to her, and said, "Make an exception."
She ran off without further word.
"I'd like to cash out, please," he told the hovering manager, who looked exactly as terrified as he'd hoped.
"Yes, my lord," he said quietly, "but I must send for the owner before I can hand over such a large amount."
"Please do, and while you're at it send for the Captain of the Guard. Reza, when the guards arrive, send some of them to the palace to inform my father and Queria of what is happening."
Reza took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The manager looked near to passing out as he realized Bakhtiar's identity, cries of shock and alarm rippling through the straggling employees.
Bakhtiar smiled.
The wine arrived, and he'd just taken a sip poured and offered by Reza, when Messar came bursting into the hall.
"Zinat! What in the absolute fuck have you let happ—Your Highness." He sagged so heavily and abruptly that two guards surged forward to keep him from falling.
"What have you done?"
"How do they say it on the streets these days? I've taken the house. By the amount I've won, I've taken your personal house as well, and at least one business you'll have to liquidate to pay out my chips. Which they ran out of, technically, but your charming clerks here have kept excellent tally. Their accounts all match. Pay up."
"You don't need the money!" Messar snarled.
"How dare you—"
"What is going on here?" Captain Desmaradi's voice boomed out.
"Good evening, Captain," Bakhtiar greeted.
Desmaradi gave him a look.
"To be perfectly honest, Your Highness, I expected Prince Aradishir."
"I will delight in telling him that, thank you so much."
"Explain to me what is happening."
"I am owed my winnings," Bakhtiar replied, and explained. Desmaradi clearly knew there was more afoot about the matter than he was saying, but he wasn't a stupid man and so held his tongue.
Instead he simply turned to Messar.
"Lord Messar, by law you must pay out his winnings in full, in coin, precious metals, or jewels."
"This isn't fair! He's the crown prince! He shouldn't be gambling—"
"Irrelevant," Desmaradi said coldly.
"There is no law prohibiting a royal prince from gambling as much as he pleases. Unless you have evidence of cheating—"
He looked to Zinat, who vehemently shook his head back and forth, "—then he is owed what he won. Pay up or you'll be arrested, and the money will be paid anyway."
Messar bellowed in rage and stormed off, yanking the keys from his belt.
He'd only just vanished from sight, presumably to the safe, when the doors opened again.
Not only had Captain Queria come, so had Ikram, his father's Steward. In the dead of night, his arms bared to reveal his snake scale tattoos, he was a fearsome sight.
"Prince Bakhtiar, your mother is highly distressed right now. You reduced her to tears."
Bakhtiar winced.
"I didn't mean for that to happen. I thought they'd merely be angry."
"They've already nearly lost you once, Your Highness, and that only a couple of weeks ago. What are you hoping to accomplish here?"
After relating the evening to them, and the amount of money he'd won, he said, "I want their records. Each and every person who has lost money here. I want them tracked down and the money returned. And tell the rest of the gambling halls the same will happen to them unless they choose the path of cooperation."
"Your will be done, Your Highness," Ikram said, bowing.
"Now go home."
Queria escorted him personally, with seven other guards alongside.
"Reza, I expected better of you."
"He's my concubine now, Queria, you're not allowed to reprimand him."
"I'll do it anyway," she retorted.
"I have nothing to say in my defense, save that under the circumstances it seemed best to stay close and keep him safe."
Queria sighed heavily.
Back in the palace, he'd barely reached the room where his parents were waiting when his mother threw herself into his arms and hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe.
"Bakhti, I will kill you myself. I was worried sick." She drew back, wiping her eyes. Damn it, she really had been crying. Bakhtiar felt awful.
"What did you do."
"Outdid his brother, for certain," Queria said dryly, and spared him having to relate the whole tale a third time.
"I really should have known you'd insist on having your turn," Shahjahan said.
"Please, Bakhti, I am begging you, never do something like this again. Please."
"I won't, I promise."
"Then let that be the end of the matter, minus whatever your mother will do to you later," Shahjahan said, and hugged him tightly, something he had not done since Bakhtiar was many years younger.
"Clever, Bakhti, quite clever, but also very stupid. I do not know where my children get all these ridiculous ideas from. They called me reckless in my day, but I do not think they know what reckless really looks like."
He glanced at Reza, then back at Bakhtiar.
"Take your pretty new concubine and go to bed. I hope you enjoy your rooms because after all the strain you have put on your healing body, I think you'll need to rest an extra week or two."
Bakhtiar took the punishment without argument.
"Yes, Father. I'm sorry, Mother, truly. I didn't know I would upset you so much."
"You'll be sorrier tomorrow after I've had rest and time to think."
He winced.
"Yes, Mother."
She sniffed and tossed her head.
"Dismissed."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
In his room, he was assaulted by his siblings.
"Not you too."
Jahanara punched him in the stomach.
"You deserve more than that."
The two concubines who'd come with her pulled her back.
"Nara, he's still healing."
"He's going to be healing a whole lot longer if he doesn't stop doing stupid things!" she bellowed.
Aradishir rolled his eyes, then looked at Bakhtiar more seriously.
"Are you all right? What happened?"
"Ugh," Bakhtiar said in reply, and went to go get a bath, shamelessly leaving poor Reza to explain for him, because if he had to tell the story one more time…
Kurosh grabbed him and shoved him into a wall out of sight of the others.
"I'm going to wring your pretty little neck, Bakhti."
"I'm sorry."
"Not sorry enough."
"Let me bathe and get rid of my siblings, and then you can do whatever you want to me. You can even teach Reza what to do."
Kurosh went from angry to pleased.
"You asked him, then?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now you've only to ask your pretty little lordling. He fell asleep waiting to read a new book of poetry to you. Get your bath. Farrokh is already handling your siblings. She didn't hit you too hard, did she?"
"No, she pulled the punch."
Kurosh kissed him, hard and biting, a little bit mean, then let him go and strode off.
Letting out a shuddering breath as the whole ordeal and all the requisite exhaustion started to really wash over him, along with the expected pain, he went to finally get clean and soak in the hot water for as long as he could.
By the time he returned to the main area, his room was suspiciously empty. Only one other sleepy, confused occupant remained.
"Your Highness!" Taher bowed low.
"We're so happy to have you home. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Bakhtiar said.
"I am sorry to have worried you, and kept you here so long."
Taher looked up, smiling faintly.
"Where else would I go, Highness? To my uncle to be ordered around doing things he's perfectly capable of doing himself? To my empty room? I prefer yours."
"Bold little thing when you want to be," Bakhtiar said and knelt in front of him.
"We've not known each other long, Lord Taher, merely two weeks. I would hate to steal you from a promising life on so little."
"My life is little, Your Highness. All you've done since we met is expand it."
"Then would you be mine?"
"It would be my honor."
Bakhtiar rose, pulling Taher with him, ignoring every ache and pain protesting his continued refusal to rest.
He cupped Taher's face and bent to kiss him, immediately addicted to those lush lips and his sweet taste.
Taher's hands fanned across his chest, then slid to wrap around him, as he pushed up on his toes to deepen the kiss, steal command of it, feasting on Bakhtiar's mouth like an antidote he needed to live.
He really, really liked the feeling.
When they finally drew apart, it was to find the expected audience.
"I have to commend you, my prince," Kurosh said.
"I thought impressive when you claimed Farrokh and I just a couple of months apart. But two concubines in a single night has to be some sort of royal record."
"Shut up," Bakhtiar groused as they all laughed.
"I am in pain, I am going to bed, you can make fun of me in the morning."
Four pairs of eyes looked at him with heat and promise as Farrokh said, "We're going to do much more than that, beloved. Much, much more."