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couldn’t decide if he was quoting some kind of handbook on Dharian customs or if he had been coached to use the highest formality as a way to supplicate to the Queen.
    Regardless, her mother seemed quite taken by it. She brought her hands together, touched them to her lips briefly, then spread her hands wide. “You are most welcome in our land,” she said, the traditional response.
    “Arama, your majesty,” the prince said, bowing again and relaxing the formality. “You are most kind for receiving me with such unforgiveable shortness of notice. If it weren’t for the urgency of my business with her majesty’s royal court, I would have made proper entreaties for my arrival.”
    “We’re honored to have you for our guest,” the Queen said. “And your business is of great interest to the court.” She smiled broadly. “May I present my daughter, Princess Aniri.”
    The prince turned to her, his amber eyes as cold as the frozen Jungali seas. He bowed, hands clasped, but did not repeat the greeting, not even the more informal
arama
, used by everyone, commoners and royalty alike. Aniri wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or not. She clasped her hands and bowed in return, although she may have done it too quickly. Her mother’s keen look flashed disapproval.
    “Well, I expect that you have much to discuss,” her mother said to the prince. Aniri shot her a look, but she was focused on the barbarian. “Please inform Aniri’s guard if you have need of anything, Prince Malik.”
    Aniri frowned. Was the Queen leaving? The prince had yet to make his formal request—what purpose could it serve for the Queen to leave before that happened? Before Aniri could form a question, her mother swept toward her antechamber, the jewels on her dress winking from the shadowed recesses. The prince, for his part, didn’t seem surprised at all by the Queen’s sudden departure.
    Aniri glared at Janak, but she couldn’t catch his attention. Instead, he coolly eyed the prince as he approached her.
    “Princess Aniri,” Prince Malik said, “is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
    Aniri blinked. “In private?” According to custom, they wouldn’t meet in private until
after
the arrangement had been negotiated. And she hadn’t agreed to anything yet. She glanced at Janak, suddenly uneasy he might whisk away like her mother. “Whatever you have to say, Prince Malik, you can speak it in front of my personal guard.” She hoped Janak understood her meaning—that he dare not leave her alone.
    Malik stepped closer. A panicky feeling fluttered her heart, but he merely dropped his voice so Janak would have to strain to overhear. “Princess, it is your privacy, not mine, I wish to protect. Perhaps we could…” He glanced about the Queen’s tea room. “…find a more open place to discuss our business.” His gaze alit on the windows streaming the golden haze of summer into the room. “Maybe the garden?”
    The prince should not insist on speaking to her privately. Negotiations were always done with representatives of both courts present, given the arrangement was as much a joining of governments as a marriage. Was this a barbarian custom? It was odd and presumptuous.
    And… intriguing. “The garden should afford a measure of privacy.” Her silk skirts swished as she strode toward the side door to the garden. The prince was close at her heels, with his guard following at a distance. She glanced back to make sure Janak was following them. His impassive expression was holding back a scowl.
    The Queen’s garden was a maze of stepped reddish-pink sandstone, the same stone used to build most of the capital city. Sunlight draped heavy and bright on the plants and flowers in full bloom. The scent was pervasive, like a bath of flower petals had been crushed and thrown into a fine mist in the air. The garden held enough winding paths and tucked corners to hide a hundred feverish meetings of lovers. She had first kissed