The Heart of the Lost Star (Tales of the High Court Book 3) Read online

  Thankfully Master Shiar had been willing to meet with him that morning and had a few prospects. Kamir just hoped he had sufficient funds to afford something at least moderately respectable. He also hoped he found something quickly, because the longer it took, the more likely his parents would notice.

  Finished dressing, he packed away the few bits of work he had finished into a brown leather satchel, along with everything else he might possibly need for a long day in the city. He ducked into the schoolroom briefly, smiled fondly at his children, so intent on their lessons they didn't hear him. He waved farewell to Bremm and headed out.

  The quickest route from his suite to the compass hall was by way of the back stairs and through the tax halls, then through the more public areas straight on to the front of the palace, but when he had the time, he preferred to wend through the private residence gardens and the hall behind the aviary. He didn't necessarily have the time right then, but he could use the pretty, cheering walk, and a few minutes of listening to birdsong.

  Humming, he threaded his way through the palace, nodding and smiling politely whenever he accidentally caught someone's eye, trying not to be hurt that so many of them looked hastily away or pretended not to notice.

  Kamir smiled as he reached the gardens. He lingered in his favorite, filled with honeysuckle, daises, and more wildflowers than he could count, framing a fountain displaying a merperson combing their hair. It wasn't as refined and elegant as the other gardens—most preferred the roses and orchids—but it was beautiful all on its own.

  He bent and retrieved a broken-off trio of yellow flowers, lifting them to his nose before reaching up to tuck them into the front of the braid he'd draped and pinned around the top of his head.

  Smiling, he continued on, resuming his humming until he reached the end of the blue hall—and froze as he heard voices, one of them achingly familiar. Kamir swallowed, stepped carefully up to the corner, and peered around it.

  High Commander Jader Star, beautiful and commanding in his uniform, which included the leather armor that most soldiers eschewed while in the palace. He wore a sword at each hip, and his ink-black hair was cut so close to his head there wasn't even enough to hold.

  Jader was beautiful no matter what he wore—or didn't wear, as Kamir had been fortunate to see on one occasion when he'd gone for a walk after a particularly upsetting argument with his parents. He'd come across Jader swimming in the pool that had been made from an old public path. Jader had been completely naked, long and lean, tattoos and everything else completely visible. Kamir had fled before Jader had seen him, but Pantheon, those images had a permanent place in his memories.

  But he'd loved best the day he'd seen Jader dressed like the Islander he was—loose, knee-length pants; a baggy shirt opened to halfway down his chest, baring hints of his colorful tattoos; a vivid sash wrapped around his hips; feet bare save for jeweled gold anklets; and all sorts of piercings in his ears, including the large, intricate, jewel-laden dangling earrings Islanders favored. They'd jingled like delicate bells every time he'd moved his head.

  He'd been sitting with other Islanders, celebrating some holiday Kamir had never figured out—something to do with fish and the time of year. It had clearly been a private matter, and he'd been careful to slip away before he'd interrupted them, but that image was as deeply engraved in his mind as his other rare encounters with Jader. Normally Jader dressed and behaved like he was Harken-born, which made sense, but Kamir always wondered if Jader missed being able to be himself more.

  Kamir drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. He passed people in the halls all the time, this was no different. No doubt they'd completely ignore him anyway. He reached up to touch the flowers in his hair, whispered a prayer to the goddess of luck, and headed down the hall, keeping his hands loosely at his sides no matter how badly he wanted to cling to his satchel strap for comfort.

  One of the palace guards, a short, stocky man with pale hair and eyes, noticed him first. Kamir smiled. "Merry morning." His heart sped up again as Jader turned, and it was more gratifying than Kamir would ever admit that recognition filled his face. His smile widened as he met Jader's pretty brown eyes. "Merry—"

  "Where did you get those flowers?" the pale-haired guard demanded.

  Kamir stopped, eye snapping back to the guard. "What?"

  "Those flowers in your hair are from the wild flower garden," said the second guard. "You're not allowed to pick them."

  Kamir flushed. "I-I didn't. They were lying on the ground. The wind and passersby are always knocking some of the bunches loose."

  "So everyone who steals them says."

  "You have no proof he picked them," Jader said calmly. "Aren't you being unduly harsh?"

  "The gardeners file complaints frequently about flowers being stolen, to the point of damaging the gardens and causing them hours of extra work. Permanent residents have been warned not to take them for any reason, and those caught doing so will have to pay a fine—by order of the Office of the High King."

  Kamir's face burned. "They were lying on the ground. I've picked them up before. I didn't realize the rules regarding doing so had changed."

  Jader frowned at the guards. "Is this really necessary?"

  "Rules are rules, Commander." The pale-haired guard pulled a bundle of small slips of paper from a pouch at his hip, wrote on one, and held it out. He extended his other hand palm up, and after a beat, Kamir realized what he was waiting on.

  He took the slip of paper and pulled the flowers from his hair. Setting them in the man's palm, he choked out a farewell and walked off down the hall. Damn it, he was not going to cry. So what if he'd just been completely and utterly humiliated in front of the man of his dreams?

  Stupid guards. Kamir had seen their type before: they were more than happy to look the other way for those nobles who bribed them, but when it came to everyone else, they were heavy-handed and even occasionally mean. No doubt they'd also wanted to look tough and impressive in front of the High Commander.

  Reaching the compass hall, Kamir finally looked at the reprimand: two sterling fine for vandalizing an imperial garden. Damn it. Two sterlings wasn't much, but it was still money he sorely needed, and for a spray of wildflowers nobody would have missed.

  At least Jader had tried to defend him, even if he couldn't really side against fellow soldiers—not that soft palace guards handing out ticket for stolen flowers were anything like the soldiers who broke and bled and died.

  Kamir took a deep breath and let it out slowly, did it again and again until he finally felt calmer. There was too much to do. He didn't have time for anger or tears. He'd come up with the money. And probably never forget a single second of being reprimanded like a child in front of Jader, but there was no help for that.

  Stepping out into the morning sunlight, he pulled up the wrap draped over his shoulders and wound it into a loose but secure hood around his head, hiding his purple hair and shading his face from the sun and other people. As badly as his morning had gone thus far, the day could only improve.

  A horse would be faster, but he did not have the funds to keep his own horse, if he used the family horses his parents would find out and want to know what he was doing, and borrowing one of the palace horses was money best saved. So walking it would have to be. He hummed as he headed out, and switched to whistling as he walked along the wide road between the palace and the city. The road was as crowded and busy as ever, a mix of travelers, food hawkers, people running between the palace and city on business, and beggars. Kamir ignored it all, save to hand over a few coins to some of the homeless.

  When he reached the city gates, he joined the line for those who lived in the city and palace, which tended to move much faster than the line for visitors, since they only had to display their citizenship medallion. Anyone without a medallion or suitable travel papers was not permitted in Harkenesten proper, a law that had not been overly enforced until Sarrica had come of age and started fixing
that and many other problems, making Harkenesten a much safer city than it had been for decades—centuries, even.

  Only a half hour of waiting and Kamir was through. The city thrummed with energy. Unlike the palace, where Kamir was acutely and painfully aware of how he went unnoticed save when the subject of malicious gossip, here he was just one more citizen trying to get on with his day. Nobody cared who he was, about his past, or his family.

  Humming a festival tune that someone was playing in one of the public squares, enjoying a few hours to himself even if the reasons for it weren't ideal, he made his way quickly through the streets, past open markets, bakers, leather shops, butchers, and artisans of all sorts until he at last reached the business district.

  From there, it was only a few more minutes to Shiar's office. Opening the door, he stepped inside and unwound his scarf, but left it to drape about his shoulders.

  A woman came bustling up—she was unfamiliar, so Shiar must have gotten a new office assistant. She looked him up and down politely, mind working behind her eyes. "Good morning, my lord. Master Shiar is waiting for you in his office. Shall I escort you?"

  "I'll manage, thank you very much," Kamir replied with a smile.

  She bowed and faded off, leaving Kamir to head down the dark, creaky hallway into the office he'd only visited once before when he'd first come to Shiar to discuss what he would eventually need. He'd tried a few other property dealers, but none had been willing to work with him, not when his situation was so peculiar and uncertain.

  "Merry morning, Lord Kamir," Shiar greeted cheerfully. "I've had coffee and pastries brought. How are you today?" He sat back in his seat, one hand resting on his large stomach, the other thoughtfully stroking his long, puffy beard. "Not too well, I think."

  Kamir mustered a smile as he took his own seat, settling back in the plush chair, hands resting easy in his lap. "Not the worst morning I've ever had, but I've also had better. How are you, Master Shiar? Are your children doing well?"

  "Quite, quite. They're little terrors, to be sure. Let us focus on you, though, my lord. I admit I thought I would have more time to build you a longer list of possible homes, but I do have a few good ones—and one strong candidate, hmm? I've arranged for horses, as well."

  "I'm immensely grateful for all your help."

  "I know a bit about bad family and raising kids alone, eh? Sit and eat while I finish gathering all the paperwork."

  Kamir obeyed, moving to the little table in the corner where the food and drink were set out. Coffee was not normally his preference, but it was strong and hot and went well with the sticky-sweet pastries. Mestan fare, unsurprising with Shiar's strong Mestan accent, though his name was Harken in origin.

  Half an hour later, they were on their way to the first house. It was, to Kamir's surprise, in the city, albeit at the very edge of a district that hovered between good and not.

  It was a handsome house, built directly against the street but with a wall and gate that led into a private courtyard. The house formed a square around it. All one story, which would be good for the children while they were still small and clumsy. Plenty of space, and six bedrooms, more than enough for him, the children… and hopes and dreams for the future. Not that he really thought a spouse and more children were in his future, but hoping hadn't yet killed him.

  There was a small lawn in the south, too, along with a stable for a couple of horses. No room for a carriage, but that was not something he was likely to ever buy. The lawn could be made into a garden someday, the kitchen and cellar were a goodly size should he ever host a party.

  "It's beautiful," Kamir said. "I absolutely love it, but I can see it is probably outside of my price range, or so close to the edge I dare not risk it." Even though being in the city would make his life so much easier. He would stand a better chance of hiring good staff. The markets were close, and he wouldn't have to go far to deliver and retrieve work.

  "It's a bit over what you want to pay," Shiar conceded, "but the house has languished for years. I think we could negotiate down to something manageable. I wouldn't waste your time if I wasn't absolutely certain of that. But come along, we have a few more to look at."

  And so they did, all through the day, stopping only for a lunch that Kamir insisted on paying for. By the end of it all, with dusk teasing at the horizon, he still could not stop pining for that first house.

  Shiar chuckled and draped an arm across his shoulders, giving him a loose, easy hug. "If that's what your heart wants, kufta, I will see you get it. You leave everything to me, and I'll contact you in a few days with good news." He bussed Kamir's cheeks and walked him to the door.

  "Thank you, Shiar," Kamir said. "I can never repay you."

  He scoffed. "I make money out of this, silly boy. Now go on home to your children, and I will go to mine, and in a few days, I'll have news to make us both happy."

  Kamir nodded, bid him goodnight, and began the long walk home.

  It was well after dark when he finally returned, much later than he'd intended, but at least the day had ended promisingly. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it was hard to resist spinning fantasies about all he could do with that house, how much the children would love it.

  "Papa!" Chiri shrieked as she saw him and threw herself across the room and into his arms. "You're home, you're home!"

  "I'm home," Kamir said, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head. He looked up as Chara approached more sedately. "Were you good while I was gone?"

  They nodded, meeting his eyes instead of looking at the floor as they would if they were lying.

  Whatever his mistakes, he couldn't regret they'd brought him his children. Identical twins, born in the earliest hours of the morning, named for minor demi-gods of hope and joy. They'd been four when Chiri had declared she was a girl, and Chara had announced a few months later he was a boy. His mother had not been entirely pleased as she'd been hoping for a 'proper' matched set, but it had been a rare instance of Kamir telling her to shut her damned mouth, it wasn't and would never be her decision. He'd gotten slapped for it, but she'd dropped the matter.

  Kamir looked over their work for the day as they settled at the table for dinner, asking questions and listening as Chiri rambled on. He nibbled at his food, too tired to eat much just then. Once the children were in bed, he'd bathe and then eat properly.

  Bedtime, for once, did not take the whole rest of the evening. Clearly Bremm had done his level best to wear them out. Kamir lingered briefly over the idea of asking Bremm to come with him when they moved, but Bremm had the best reputation and earned an impressive income tutoring various children in the palace. There was no chance he would surrender all of that to settlefor exclusively tutoring the children of a man soon to be disowned, disgraced, and two steps from the poorhouse for an indeterminate length of time.

  That, however, was a problem for another day. Closing the book he'd been reading to the children, he set it aside, kissed their foreheads, and snuffed the light on his way out.

  In his own room, he stripped off his clothes, sighing as his chest came free of the tight binder he'd wrapped around it. He didn't have an overly large chest, but he still preferred to make it even flatter most of the time.

  Pregnancy had been tolerable on most things, but unbearable for that. Breastfeeding, he'd had mixed feelings about, but in the end, he had mostly enjoyed caring for his children. Even if at the time Theoren had been meaner than ever—when he bothered to be there at all, instead of out finding other people to fuck because he'd decided Kamir was completely useless on that front.

  Kamir had never been as happy as he was on the day Theoren signed away all parental rights in the divorce. If he showed up tomorrow demanding his children, Kamir had all the authority of imperial law to tell him no and never. A generation or two ago, that wouldn't have meant much, but along with so many other improvements, the High King took the matter of children more seriously than any monarch Kamir had ever known or heard about. Once u
pon a time, Kamir probably would not have gotten sole custody. Now, not only did he have it, he could be reasonably certain the courts would back him up—especially there in Harkenesten, in the shadow of the High King himself.

  Even without the court's support, Kamir would have died before he allowed Theoren anywhere near his children. Kamir had carried them, nurtured them, and fought for them in the divorce while Theoren had barely been able to remember their names.

  But Theoren was gone, thank the Pantheon, and Kamir was the sole individual responsible for his children. He'd be happier if he had a spouse he could trust to take care of them should the worst happen, but he did trust Velina, and that was more than a little comforting.

  He climbed into the steaming bath Velina had arranged while he put the children to sleep, groaning as he sank into the water and breathed in steam scented by honeysuckle oil.

  Though thinking of honeysuckle reminded him of his humiliating morning. The perfect chance to actually speak with Jader and he was treated like a misbehaving child. Which reminded him he needed to go to court in the next few days to pay the fine, which would take at least all morning and possibly part of the afternoon. Well, there was plenty of paperwork he could collect and start reading through—like disownment papers.

  He lingered in the bath until the water grew tepid, then climbed out and shrugged into a dressing robe. Returning to the main room, he settled in to eat his dinner in peace and quiet, distracting himself from the loneliness of it by imagining all the ways he wished that encounter in the hallway could have gone.

  Chapter Two

  "Captain Dennar, thank you for coming to see me so early," Jader said, setting aside the papers he'd been reading as he rose and moved around his enormous desk.

  "I'm always happy to accommodate you, Commander," Dennar said, and limped over to a seat. "What's this about?"