“She is the queen of Eddis,” I said stiffly, annoyed at his dismissive tone.

“I mean no offense,” he told me. “On the contrary. It goes against my grain to withhold something personal. I would no more deny you this than I would deny you any of your property. You have seen, I hope, that we make no attempt to remove from you your possessions. Even your weapons. I am sure that in time our mistakes will be behind us. We will start fresh. This is your property, and I would like to return it to you, if only I could.” He smiled disarmingly, and I gritted my teeth and wondered what he was going to demand of me in exchange for this piece of writing and wished he would get on with it. “. . . if I could have your word that there is no secret message here.”

My surprise showed on my face. What possible message did he think could be secreted in a half-page love letter?

“Ah,” he said, and was evidently satisfied because he slid the parchment across the table to me. I folded it and slid it inside my shirt.

He inclined his head graciously.

I tried to do the same.

So I began my second captivity. This time with good food, and a soft bed, and regular bathwater, and companions infinitely more despised. Brimedius soon disappeared back to his army, which was penning in whatever was left of my uncle’s men near the pass into Melenze. Brimedius’s wife had greeted me formally when I first arrived, but I never saw her again. I saw only the Mede and various servants and a few members of Brimedius’s guard.

My attendant had a name. Of all ridiculous things, it was Ion.

“Is that a problem, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” I said. “What’s your family name?”

“I am Ion Nomenus, Your Majesty.”

“I will call you by the patronym, then, if you do not mind,” I said.

“Anything that pleases you, Your Majesty.” He was the model of good manners, then and for the rest of our time together. He brought me my food and would have helped me dress and undress if I had let him.

“I’ve grown more comfortable doing it myself,” I told him, and so he contented himself with unpacking and refolding my fancy clothes.

“I had a number of books,” I said, and he apologized that they would not be available to me. I observed that the written word in all its forms was forbidden, but he said no, he could bring me books from the megaron’s collection, if I would like. I said that I would, and asked him to look for a copy of Mepiles’s Lamentations. I thought it might give me some perspective.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AKRETENESH dined with me every day, chatted about this and that, presented himself to me as a reasonable man, a potential ally, a resource. Every day I asked about my mother and sisters. After the first few days he didn’t even offer excuses, just smiled sadly and turned away. If I lost my temper and swore at him, I got nothing. If I was polite, he gave me a tidbit about their health or their activities of the day before: They had gone into the garden, or they had walked by the riverside, Ina had said this or that. Unspoken was the understanding that my behavior affected their freedom as well as my own. On the contrary, I was assured over and over again that I was no prisoner but an honored guest.

The first time I was told this I stood up and said briskly I was leaving, and my family with me. Akretenesh just looked disappointed. “You would never, I am sure, very sure, Your Majesty, be so rude to your host,” he said. He used that phrase often, I am sure, very sure, always followed by something I desired but would not be allowed. I grew to hate it as much as I hated him.

After some weeks of this, I was well practiced in controlling my frustration. I never thought I would have any reason to be grateful to my Ferrian tutor, Malatesta, but as it turned out, he had been good practice for dealing with the Mede. I did not swear or shout. I nodded politely when spoken to and let the most outrageous comments pass by. Of course we were as children to the more mature race of the Mede. Of course they knew better than we did how to regulate ourselves.

I kept myself busier than I had been out on the island of Letnos. I woke in the morning and occupied myself with martial arts. I had a practice sword and any number of helpful partners waiting on me in the training yard. I rode regularly and tried to improve my sword work on horseback. Akretenesh seemed to look with approval on these activities. I practiced firing Attolia’s gun, and he didn’t object. On the contrary, Brimedius’s armory was most helpful about providing lead and powder. The lead was pulled back out of targets to be reused, but my consumption of powder was not inconsequential. If I could have cost Brimedius ten times as much to maintain, I would have.

In the afternoon I read whatever Nomenus brought me from Brimedius’s library. Mepiles’s Lamentations did help me put my own discomforts in context, and I read a little from it every day. I paced in my room, talking to myself, and rehearsing for future speeches. I worried daily about the fate of the magus and the men in my army. Akretenesh of course gave me no news. I didn’t know even if the magus had lived or died, though I thought the Mede would probably have told me if my friend and advisor was dead. I worried about him, and wondered if he had safely reached my father.

I was free to move about as I pleased in the gardens and could ride out on one of Brimedius’s horses so long as I had someone from his guard with me. In the megaron I could roam through the public rooms and in the corridors on the way to my apartments. I walked those corridors, usually with Nomenus at my side, listening for any hint of my mother and sisters. Eurydice could be heard, if she chose to exert herself, across several fields and a small river. I never heard a sound and never caught even a hint of their whereabouts.

I spent my afternoons walking in gardens surrounding the megaron in search of some sign they might have left, a footprint in the flower beds, a plant stripped of its blossoms, twigs in a pattern, an arrangement of stones. I found nothing. I had faith that Ina was a cunning prisoner, but there was no sign that she had even once outwitted Akretenesh’s desire that she and Eurydice and my mother be kept from me.

I attempted to think charitable thoughts about Nomenus, who had taken on the role of my personal attendant, and the other people in the megaron, the servants and Brimedius’s guardsmen. I couldn’t blame them for my captivity. It was my own doing, after all, that had brought me to Brimedius. I tried to thank them honestly for their services. They were wary at first, but if they held me in contempt, they concealed it well. If the captain of the guard was a little stiff with me when we sparred in the mornings, he was never anything but polite.

I know that it may be wishful thinking or arrogance on my part to think so, but over time they seemed genuinely well disposed to me. Nomenus even scoured up a few more books of poetry for me to read from Lady Brimedius’s private collection, which was considerate of him. He never spoke to me of anything but my personal needs, making it clear that the business of kings was not his business. It was a fine line between sympathy and pity that he walked, and I was gradually won over by his kindnesses.

Remembering Gen’s suggestion that it is better if you believe what you want other people to believe, I tried to think charitable thoughts about Akretenesh as well. Except for the very essence of the matter—my captivity and his refusal to let me see my sisters and my mother—he was very accommodating. I still didn’t like him. His narrow, inflexible mind, his unshakable faith that the Mede way was the best way, and his unwitting condescension in offering it to me made my hackles rise, even without the added offense of his blatant intention to appropriate my country. Also, I hated the scent of his hair oil, which is a stupid thing to care about, and I am not surprised that it makes you laugh.