<i>I look forward to it. Tonight, then.</i><br/><br/>Kethaias was almost so gracious in that moment that Ryland wondered where all the arrogant boredom had gone. Was this Kethaias just trying to make an equal impression? He thought it must be so, and was more than willing to take advantage of that.<br/><br/>Of course, he made his excuses in order to escape having to stay for the rest of the meeting. He had no idea what any of it was really about and his older siblings no doubt could handle the job with far more intelligence and diplomacy. His father, baffled by what he'd seen pass between his youngest and the king, had been only too easy to get to agree to release him.<br/><br/>He roused Red to wakefulness, gave him some coffee and cakes, and then let the man regale him with all the details of the night. Even Red knew that he'd been called specifically for bearing if not a likeness then a similar coloring to Banque's youngest prince. Ryland listened, delighted, as Red told him all about his experience with Kethaias as a lover... and the one Kethaias was admonishing while drunk--with a few curious slip-ups that left Ryland with questions and guesses.<br/><br/>He offered to let Red stay to catch up on his sleep, but the man excused himself to get back to his own bed. Ryland undressed and finally crawled into his, where he slept pleasantly for more than a few hours.<br/><br/>But in the few hours between lunch and the next meeting, Vressen and Emmera caught him up--just as he was waking--to ask, "Do you have some design on him?"<br/><br/>"Who?" Ryland said.<br/><br/>Emmera looked like she might strangle him. "King Kethaias! We saw him... fondling you."<br/><br/>Ryland sat up, stretching. "Fondling." He grinned. "No. Not at all. I have no designs." He suppressed a yawn and motioned to a servant for tea. "We are only becoming friends. Oh, don't scowl. I shan't offend him, and even if I do, he's far too honorable to take it out on an entire country."<br/><br/>"Ryland, that is exactly what he did to Kef-Kessar," Vressen said.<br/><br/>"Did he? All right, I'll be careful. I promise. I can't break word with him now, but I won't invite him out again after tonight." They looked a little stunned, and Ryland felt a little internal fizz of vindication. "It's nowhere anyone will know who he is. And you'll let it stay that way, unless you'd<i>really</i>like to invite attention."<br/><br/>There was a switch in tactics. Emmera's voice softened. "Ryland, this treaty with King Kethaias is<i>very</i>--"<br/><br/>"<i>Important</i>," Ryland said, mimicking her tone. "Yes. I know. I am<i>promising</i>, dear sister, that I won't cock it up."<br/><br/>It took another bout of consoling, of listening to lecture (which it was entirely too early for, based on the fact that Ryland had just woken up, not on the actual hour), and then of making more promises and listening to yet more worries over things like the treaty, his own safety, the safety of the nation... Finally, the bell rung for them to rejoin the others for the meeting, and Ryland found himself blessedly left alone.<br/><br/>Night's stars, he thought. If only they knew how Kethaias had designs on<i>him.</i><br/><br/>Ryland had a few designated outfits for blending into the lesser nobility. Namely, outfits that were very fine but out of fashion and nonetheless a little shabby in some places, made of fabrics just slightly less expensive than what those of better rank could afford. A frothy cream shirt of linen, not silk, and a waistcoat that set off his trim waist to a broader chest and shoulders, and fine wool pants instead of doeskin. Boots he never skimped on, and to top everything off, Kethaias' silk favor as a necktie and a half-mask that covered the top half of his face and his nose.<br/><br/>When he fetched Kethaias, he took one look at him and held back a laugh. "No!" he said, when he thought Kethaias might take offense. "You look very fine. It's just that I should have warned you... But, well, I don't mind playing pet to a wealthier man tonight."<br/><br/>He offered his arm and they were on their way.<br/><br/>There were brass tables and benches in a lovely semi-circle garden outside of the place, for anyone who didn't want to be inside after the rowdiness had started. Ryland didn't stop them there. The door to the place was already half open, letting out a little slip of yellow light onto the cobbles, and they arrived just in time to hear the roar of laughter.<br/><br/><i>Starlight</i>was this particular teahouse's name. Its walls were painted in creamy yellow while the roof was a dark, dark blue. It would have given the impression of the ceiling about to drop on one's head if not for the hundreds of spelled little lights set floating against it at different heights. In the daytime, the chairs and tables were arranged neatly throughout the house and there was a lofted floor above for more seating. During the night, the tables were staggered in rows, and most of them had been filled already.<br/><br/>Ryland had to take Kethaias' hand not to lose him in the press of people, and he eventually got them shoved quite literally into a corner. When someone else shoved<i>them</i>, Ryland sat on Kethaias' thigh. Despite the crowd, they were attended by a serving girl right away, and Ryland signed an order for the both of them of hot tea with a dash of liquor, one pipe, and a dish for the ashes.<br/><br/>"This is where," Ryland said, putting his lips to Kethaias' ear, "you can come to find out what is being said about yourself as a noble in Banque."<br/><br/>There was a general cry for silence, and even Ryland turned his attention out to the men standing in the cleared space. They didn't have masks on, and one of them had his head turned, obviously conferring with the other two.<br/><br/>The entertainment began.<br/><br/>Ryland's lips brushed the shell of Kethaias' ear more than once to explain jokes--once he had stopped laughing. Mostly it was euphemisms unique to Banque--like a "lark's tongue" being both someone's pretty words<i>and</i>their cock, which was a play on Banque's most popular brothel--and though explaining took the thunder from the verse sometimes, Ryland thought Kethaias didn't mind having such illicit things whispered into his ear.<br/><br/>"Do you smoke?" Ryland said, when their pipe arrived, already lit. "It's sweet."<br/><br/>He offered a taste of it from his mouth, a bare brush of lips, before he leaned away, his smile cat-like.<br/><br/>At one point, a verse about Ryland came up. Ryland wasn't shy about sharing the slander in that, though the story involved him seducing both a son and father.<br/><br/>"That's not true, though. It was<i>not</i>at the same time," Ryland whispered to him, still amused. "It wasn't even the same<i>year</i>."<br/><br/>And then--Ryland had known it was a possibility--the next poet had moved on to what could only be Kethaias. A "war crow" who had spread its wings over the stars, blotting them out. Banque's most prominent religion worshiped the goddess of Night, with her rest and healing and peace, and her daughter Stars. The poetry was a little heavy-handed at first, but then, very eloquently--and very reproachfully--described some of Kethaias' conquerings, mostly as a harem for his greedy...<br/><br/>"Perhaps we ought to go," Ryland said. "It was fun while it lasted."<br/><br/>In truth, he wondered how Kethaias would take this verbal assault. Obviously the more common people were worried that Kethaias was only here to plunder. He wondered that the king had any thought to his public image here, especially having been confined to meetings so far, and having kept a scowl for Ryland's bet the rest of the time.<br/><br/>There was the chance to prove himself not so harsh at Ryland's ball, but he didn't know if Kethaias would see it that way or not.<br/><br/>"After this, if you are still intent on courting me," Ryland said, "<i>you</i>will have to do the inviting. But for now, there are gambling houses still open at this hour, if you'd rather end tonight on a--hopefully," he said with a smile, "--higher note."