King Sahir's Arc

Chapter 17 of 17

The morning after, Sahir meant to tell the court. They never got the chance. Sadiq found them first, in the corridor outside the loom room. The vizier blocked the way with their staff, purple robes still and heavy in the gray dawn light. Sadiq had served the palace thirty years. They had pulled Sahir off the floor during pain flares, burned a royal summons to protect them, and caught every lie Sahir ever told. Sahir trusted them more than anyone alive. That was why the look on Sadiq's face cut so deep. "You intend to announce it," Sadiq said. Not a question. "I do." "Then listen before you do." Sadiq lowered the staff. "The older advisors will not accept it. A king who weaves. A king in love with a man from the bazaar. They have waited eighteen years for a reason to call you unfit. You are about to hand them one." Sahir's hands went cold. "They already think me unfit." "They whisper it. This gives them leave to say it aloud." Sadiq's voice stayed flat, but their eyes did not. "Some will walk out. Some will try to turn the court against you. I cannot stop that. I can only warn you it is coming." "So I should hide." "I did not say that." Sadiq held their gaze a moment longer. "I said know the cost. You never do, until it is on top of you." They stepped aside. "Go. Or do not. But do not go blind." Sahir walked past them into the loom room and shut the door. Their knees shook. The candles Kūrush had lit still burned on the low table. Sahir sat on the couch and pressed their palms to their eyes. Kūrush looked up from the loom. He crossed the room and knelt at Sahir's feet, searching their face. "What happened." "Sadiq." Sahir's throat tightened. "They said the advisors will revolt. That I'm giving them the reason they always wanted. That I'll be called unfit, in open court, and some of them will leave." They let their hands drop. "Maybe it's a mistake, Kūrush. Maybe I'm about to lose everything." Kūrush did not argue. He rose onto his knees and took Sahir's face in both hands. Then he kissed them. Soft, on the mouth, once. Then again. He kissed their cheek, their brow, the corner of their eye where a tear had slipped free. "Stop thinking," he murmured between each one. He kissed them again. "Stop. Just this." And again, until the advisors and the court and Sadiq's warning blurred and went quiet, and there was only Kūrush's mouth and his hands and the warmth of the candles. Sahir stopped bracing. They kissed him back and let the fear fall away for a while. But when they finally rested their forehead against his, the truth sat plain between them. Sadiq's warning was real. The announcement would still come. And when it did, the court would not forgive it.