Chapter 5
Five
RODIAN
Rodian set his mug of tea down on the table, glad the servants had stopped providing him the tiny teacups he was afraid of breaking.
The ruins of the meal lay between him and Arkadi where they sat in the small glass-walled garden attached to the private royal wing of the palace.
The walls and roof were made of glass, with a fireplace built into it to help keep the interior warm on cold winter days, such as today.
A phonograph played a record in the corner, the sound set so low Rodian couldn’t place the song.
“Well?” Rodian asked. “What do you think of my offer?”
Arkadi reached for the samovar and adjusted the small spigot to pour himself more tea.
Rodian had sent the servants off to let the pair of them fend for themselves in privacy, much to their consternation.
But he was more than capable of serving himself and Arkadi.
“I think people will question your decision and attempt to get you to change your mind.”
“Is that a no?”
Arkadi shot him a sharp, warning look. His frank openness was refreshing. “It is not.”
“Then it is a yes.” Rodian tried not to feel smug and relieved when Arkadi did not immediately deny his words.
“No one in their right mind would say no to the Isar.”
“I had Lidiya pull your family’s records last night. I know none of your bloodline had been infiltrated by rionetkas, unlike most other ivoryanin. I’m not going in blind to this request.”
“That may be true, but my clout amongst the ivoryanin is not as strong as you believe.”
“Lidiya calls you a gossip.”
“I much prefer to be known as a purveyor of information.”
The near haughty tone made Rodian laugh. “Convenient, as I need someone with that background to tell me about the people I must deal with in the royal court and the Council of Ministers.”
Arkadi cocked his head to the side, those glacial eyes staring back at Rodian with an intensity he rather thought others would be surprised to see for one who was thirteen years his junior. “You speak as if the two are different when they are not.”
“Aren’t they?” He’d treated the positions differently back in Verdlovsk.
He worked as hard as anyone else handling the herds and making sure the catch from the fishing boats was processed in a timely manner for the town.
Governing the town as an ivoryan was much more immediate than the absentee votes he sent back as Minister to the Council via telegram.
Arkadi shook his head. “Maybe up in the far north, but not here in the capital. The Ministers help create laws, but you as Isar have the final say in anything. You are the power in this country, and ivoryanin will vie for influence with you. The best chance they have at that is through their Ministerial duties. The men and women who carry out that duty will use it to try to raise the social status of their family within the court. So you see, both the court and the Council are intertwined where it matters. You hold all the power, but you can be swayed, and they will try to sway you.”
Rodian grimaced. “That feels more like a hunt than a government.”
Arkadi smiled crookedly, and Rodian’s gaze dropped reflexively to those plush lips.
He had a sudden thought of wondering what that mouth would look like wrapped around his cock and had to shift in his chair.
It had been a while since he’d last been attracted to someone enough to want to bed them, but he was not going to do that here with the person he’d asked to help him navigate royal life.
So he sternly told his cock to stop being so interested.
“You’re not wrong. But you asked for my help in understanding the motives behind those who dance through court and act as Ministers. I will do my best to provide you with that information.”
“Dancing.” Rodian made a face. “I would love if I never had to do that.”
“I take it that’s not what you do for fun up in the far north?”
“I don’t dance,” Rodian said curtly.
Arkadi arched an eyebrow. “Truly? Not at all?”
Rodian shrugged, not sure how to explain he’d always felt out of place due to his size and thus had never wanted to be put in the position to be made a fool of, despite his status as ivoryan and, later, Minister of his town.
Now, as Isar, he knew it would be inevitable that he’d have to find someone and court them and dance with them.
It didn’t matter that he’d anointed his nephew as his heir for now; ivoryanin would expect him to produce his own if he married a woman.
“I was never taught.”
“Well, that is one thing I can assist with. We can let this be your first lesson.”
Arkadi took one last sip of his tea before placing the teacup down on the table and standing.
He walked over to the phonograph and perused the records stored beneath it in the ornate cabinet before choosing a different one.
The music stopped momentarily but then started up again after he wound the mechanics and placed the new record on the machine.
Music swelled out of the flower-shaped horn, the notes of a waltz floating through the air.
Arkadi returned to the table and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
Trepidation made Rodian’s stomach knot up, but he didn’t see any hint of mockery in Arkadi’s eyes. Choosing to take his hand was easier after that. “Allow me to apologize in advance for stepping on your feet.”
Arkadi laughed as Rodian gripped his hand. The younger man’s hand was smaller than his, and he was surprised to feel a couple of calluses on Arkadi’s fingers. “You will do fine. Just follow my lead.”
Rodian wasn’t certain about that, but he stood and let himself be led to the center of the garden patio.
Arkadi guided Rodian’s arms into a position he personally found ridiculous.
But it drew him closer to the younger man, the cage of their arms preventing true contact.
Arkadi was tall, and not having to bend his head to look down was refreshing for Rodian.
Perhaps it was the tease of that position that made Rodian think about what Arkadi would look like beneath him, long hair spread across a silk pillow, with his impossibly long legs wrapped around Rodian’s waist.
He swallowed, suddenly glad they weren’t pressed together so Arkadi wouldn’t feel the growing interest in his cock.
Then Arkadi stepped to the side, forcing Rodian to follow, and he tried to mimic the dance steps as best he could, feeling silly while doing so.
Arkadi moved with a fluidity that Rodian would never possess, eventually guiding him into a simple rhythm that followed the beat of the song as they carefully spun over the flagstones.
He did step on Arkadi’s feet, apologizing profusely for each transgression, but Arkadi didn’t even wince, just laughed it off and coaxed Rodian into continuing the dance.
The lack of judgment made it easier for Rodian to relax, knowing it was just them in the garden, and not taking center stage in a ballroom, surrounded by ivoryanin and being silently judged behind false smiles.
Arkadi led him through two more dances before he paused and readjusted their arms. He smiled encouragingly up at Rodian as the next song flowed through the phonograph’s horn, the notes a little staticky. “Now, it’s your turn to lead.”
He’d been doing that for weeks already, alone and floundering, but somehow doing so just then with Arkadi in his arms, it seemed easier.
Rodian would never like dancing, but he liked it well enough in that moment, holding Arkadi in his arms and carefully twirling them around the garden beneath the glass ceiling, wishing he dared draw the other man closer to kiss that soft, encouraging smile off his lips.