Trouble had been bubbling all night like a pot of tea on a fire, but Ba'an had not expected to boil over in the way it way it did—spectacularly, and over dessert.

And they had nearly made it, too.

The third and fourth courses had been as unintelligible as the second one. It was as though the chef had decided food was eaten with the eyes, rather than the mouth.

There had been so much waste. Much of the meat could not be eaten, because metal wires had been threaded through it to make the various carcasses pose. Ba’an’s tribe would have never wasted food like this.

Ba’an had been at dinner for over two hours already, but she was still hungry. Starving, even, and with every course she felt her frustration growing. How was this a dinner? How was this even food?

Lukios' looks were becoming increasingly worried as each course came and went, and she could see his mood getting worse and worse as the dishes became more and more pointless; both Nikias and Gaios took this in stride, as if it was something to be expected. Nikias' subtle cues, designed to help Ba'an navigate the most bizarre dishes ever known to mankind, made it clear these baffling foods were neither new nor foreign: these were set courses, meant to be eaten in a certain way and in a certain order. It was obvious that everyone at dinner had seen such meals before, including Lukios, and Ba'an was the only one confused.

This could not be a mistake. Ba'an could not imagine Arete being deluded enough to believe Lukios—or anyone else—would enjoy such dishes, so she could only assume that this was an exercise in humiliation—Ba'an's humiliation, a way of putting an upstart Sander in her place.

Well, it was not working very well, was it?

Help had come from an unexpected corner. Ba'an had been suspicious at first, but now she rather thought that Nikias ought to have a bottle of koiri; aside from having paid for it, he had earned it by saving Ba'an from complete and utter embarrassment.

It was a puzzling outcome, but she could scarcely complain.

Arete had caught on to what Nikias was doing halfway through the third course, and now she was making herself a nuisance, dragging Nikias' attention away at every opportunity and making him talk to her so he could not speak with Ba'an. It would have worked, except Lukios had joined in with a counterattack, suddenly adopting that light, teasing tone of his that was so very charming; Arete couldn't resist him.

And then Leandros—a very drunken and hostile Leandros, who had been generously in his cups all evening—entered the fray.

"Shoulda put more meat on th’ table, Retty," he slurred, looking Ba'an up and down in a way that immediately made Lukios bristle. "Tha’ goat's not th’ on—only thing tha’ needs a lil’ fattenin’, eh, Lion-man?" And then he made a lewd gripping gesture and laughed.

Lukios' face went red, and for a moment, Ba'an thought he would leap across the table to throttle the man; Arete hastily put a restraining hand on his arm with a nervous little titter, but it was Gaios who spoke first.

"Leandros. Enough." Gaios gestured to a servant, who tentatively stepped forward to take away Leandros' goblet. She was a small woman, and she flinched when Leandros slapped her hand away.

"Hey! That's mine." Or at least, that’s what Ba’an thought he’d said. It had sounded like, ‘Ehhhh, tha’s mine!’. Wine sloshed over the side to stain the cushions and fabrics as he yanked his vessel away. Some of it splashed onto his toga, but he did not seem to notice. The girl looked at Gaios with a helpless expression, and Gaios face became stony as he turned to his son.

"Not anymore." Gaios turned to the girl. "Take the goblet. Water for him from now on."

"But—"

"Shut your mouth and drink your water." Then the old general turned to Ba'an with an apologetic smile. "I must beg your pardon on behalf of my son. The wine has gone to his head—the follies of youth, I'm afraid."

Lukios' expression made his opinion on Leandros more than clear, but Ba'an gave him a sharp look. There was no reason to make the situation worse. "It is well," she murmured mildly. "The water will help." Ba'an watched Lukios' jaw tighten as she said, 'It is well.' Lukios clearly disagreed, but this was hardly the time for a confrontation. It would be best to eat dessert then leave, as soon as possible.

Lukios was having none of it, however.

"With respect, Strategos," said Lukios, tone curt, "Leandros should be the one apologizing. He's old enough to take responsibility, drunk or not."

If Gaios was annoyed by this, he didn't show it. "You're right, of course. Leandros. Apologize to lady Ba'an—your behaviour is unseemly."

Leandros sighed dramatically, but gave her a game smile that was deceptively sweet. Ba'an refrained from showing her feelings on her face, as it would not have been very polite at all. “’Pologies, lady Baaaan.” He frowned and focused. The next few words were somewhat more coherent. “I o-only men…meant…you looked ‘ungry. No’ used t’ fancy lil’ spreads, hmmmm?" He clucked his tongue at his sister. "Is bird food, Retty. Come oooon. I wan’ a real dinar. Din-her. Dinner."

Arete smiled beautifully. "This is more than suitable for a celebration, Landy. It’s what everyone south of Elysium does for namedays and graduation feasts. You'd know that if you ever went anywhere that wasn't a drinking hole." Her tone was very sweet.

"Arete. Don't start."

"Yes, papa. I was just explaining why we're having a Etriaxian spread. I don't want lady Ba'an getting the wrong impression." Now Arete's smile turned to Ba'an, and it looked so sincere Ba'an was nearly fooled. "I do apologize if it isn't enough, lady Ba'an. I should have known Sanders are not used to this type of dining. The fault is mine, of course."

Nikias cleared his throat. "I'm sure we can all use dessert now." He looked at the serving girl and raised an eyebrow, and she jumped to do his bidding, clearly glad to be away.

"Riiiight. Didn't think a’ead, didja, Retty?" Leandros sipped his water and grimaced, clearly finding it wanting. "Or maybe ya did. Wha’ever. Say, lady Baaaaan, hare’s yer guardan, any-anyway? I don' see ‘im nowhere. Don' tell me Sanderrrsss let thar womaaans run ‘round wit’ ‘trange men?" He glanced at Lukios and added, taking pains to enunciate, "Em…em…pha…sis on 'straaaange.'"

Gaios sighed. "Leandros. Don't speak again until you are spoken to. There is no need to answer such a stupid question, lady Ba'an."

Nikias looked as if he was trying to find the most diplomatic thing to say but coming up empty. Lukios met Leandros' stare straight on.

"Who says she doesn't have a guardian?" Lukios smiled charmingly, and Leandros blinked, clearly confused by his response. "Which reminds me: everyone, Ba'an and I have an announcement to make." He stood, still smiling, and held out his hand to her. Slowly, Ba'an stood. She could see what he was doing, but…

…now? Was this wise?

She reached out and took his hand, which meant their arms crossed Arete. Ba'an saw the woman's eyes settle on their joined hands, and for a moment Ba'an saw dismay settle in her expression before Arete banished it, replacing it with a bright smile. Ba'an should not have pitied the woman—but she did. The choice of dishes had been poor by Ba'an's standards, but it must have taken time and effort to create such…creative…meat sculptures, even ones that could not be eaten.

This felt cruel, not satisfying.

The music continued in the background, as soft and gentle as Lukios' face when he looked at her and smiled, the same smile that always warmed her straight through the bone.

"First off," he said, "I'd like to thank the host and hostess for the dinner—this and every dinner we've had here. Strategos, you've been more than generous, opening your home to me and Ba'an." Gaios smiled and offered a little salute with his goblet, and Lukios bowed his head. "We're grateful for your kindness, and we will remember it forever. As a small token of appreciation, I'd like you and our friends here to be the first to hear the good news.“ He beamed, looking perfectly handsome and happy. "Ba'an and I," he said, "are very pleased to announce—well. We're getting married." He reached over and took her left hand in his, holding it up so the ring caught the light. "So to answer your question, Leandros—she doesn't need a guardian, because she's here with me—her husband-to-be."

Nikias began clapping in a mild, polite way. Slowly, Arete and Gaios joined in. "Congratulations," said Nikias, and Ba'an could see he wasn't surprised at all, though—was that a warning in his eyes? It was a look of disapproval, though he was not rude enough to say so out loud, not here. Arete also smiled, and Ba'an would have never guessed she was hurt by the ways the corners of her eyes crinkled—but Ba'an knew she was, just the same.

Leandros looked stunned. This ought to have been amusing—how had he missed the rings? Did he pay any attention to anyone at all?—except then he did the very last thing Ba'an had expected: he laughed.

At first it was a startled snort. And then it bubbled out in little bursts, and before anyone could stop him, he was practically howling, slapping his knee like Lukios had just told him the funniest joke in the world.

"Leandros!" Gaios snapped. He gestured to a male servant, one who did the fetching. "Take him up to his room. Leandros. Stop making a spectacle of yourself. You're drunk out of your mind, you absolute embarrassment." He shook his head, looking over to Lukios. "Congratulations to you and lady Ba'an, Lukios. I'll have my son in hand in just a moment." He grimaced, looking as mortified as a man of his demeanor could look.

But Leandros was too busy laughing to hear him. "Marry ‘er? Her? Yer se-serus?" He cackled, shaking so hard that water spilled from his cup and made a mess on the rugs. "Retty. Retty. Don' look so glum. You ‘issed an a-arrow. He wen’ an’ threw ya o’er fer—fer—" He was laughing too hard to finish, and this time when his cup wobbled, the water caught Nikias as well, who only sighed and reached out to take the vessel from him.

"Leandros," Nikias was saying, "You should listen to your father. You're going to be more than a little ashamed of yourself in the morn—"

"—‘ome san-sand-cunny goat-fucker," he finished. "Lion-man," Leandros chortled, "ya can't turn a ‘hore inna wife. You jus’ can’—"

Ba'an did not even see him move.

One moment, Lukios was holding her hand, fingers warm over hers.

In the next moment, Leandros yelped like a dog taking a beating and toppled backwards over the back of the couch, slamming onto the floor. Someone screamed; Gaios was on his feet in an instant, barking for guards, and Ba'an was shocked to find Nikias was on his feet also, slinging his arms around Lukios' waist to keep him from killing Gaios' son.

How had Lukios gotten across the table so fast?

Because somehow, he had. He shrugged Nikias off like the man weighed nothing, and he stalked over and hauled Leandros up and off his feet by the front of his toga. The younger man squawked, kicking out, but Lukios didn't even grunt when Leandros caught him in the thigh and belly.

"Say that again," he snarled. "Go ahead. Call my wife a sandy, goat-fucking whore. Do it. See if you still got a jaw once I'm done."

"Fuck!" Leandros clamped his hand over Lukios fist, which was twisted in the front of his tunic and toga. Suddenly he was very, very sober. "You've lost your fucking mind! Belaros! Etos! Get this crazy fucker off me!" Two of the male servants came rushing forward, but Lukios raised his head and they stopped, frozen in place. Ba'an could not see what expression Lukios had on his face, but it was clear the two men feared the beating of their lives.

"What are you waiting for," Leandros howled, "get him off me!"

"Don’t," Lukios growled. "This is between me and him. Don't get in the way."

"Lukios!" Nikias grabbed Lukios' shoulder, which did very little because all he got was a fistful of fabric. Lukios simply shrugged him off again. "Lukios, enough. You've made your point. This can't escalate. Enough, I said! Luki—fuck! Lukios!" Nikias jumped backwards to avoid getting elbowed in the face. Two men that had been standing silently at the walls swooped in, and Ba'an recognized them: Nikias' bodyguards.

This was getting out of hand.

"Lady Ba'an!" Arete clutched at her arm. "Stop him!" Her eyes had gone wide in her face and Ba'an could see the fear was genuine. "He's an idiot, but he's my brother. Please!"

Ba'an blinked. What was she expecting Ba'an to do, exactly? Tell Lukios to halt?

Hm, now that was not a bad idea.

By now Gaios was stalking toward them, flanked by guards.

They were armed. They had swords, and the swords were no longer in their sheaths.

"Lukios." Ba'an walked around the table, putting her hand on his arm. "Lukios." She gentled her tone, trying to calm him. "This is enough. Lukios. You must release him now."

"Ba'an. You heard him. All. Fucking. Evening." He shook Leandros so hard that the younger man yelped, eyes rolling in his sockets. "Still having fun, Landy? This shit still funny?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nikias gesturing at Gaios, speaking rapidly as he tried to diffuse the situation.

Leandros gripped Lukios' fist in both of his and swung his head forward. Lukios saw it coming; he only tipped his head to the side and the man smashed his forehead into Lukios' upper arm.

"Try again, you little bitch," mocked Lukios. "Want me to tie my hands behind my back? Might have a chance then—after a thousand tries. Maybe."

"Lukios. That is enough. There are guards." She tipped her head, laying it on Lukios' shoulder. She had a very good view of Leandros face this way; his nose was crooked and bleeding, and there was another spectacular bruise rising on his cheek.

"Your nose is broken," Ba'an noted. Leandros snarled in her direction, though he seemed to know better than to exacerbate his situation by cursing.

"Not the only thing I'm breaking on this fucker," Lukios added, and Ba'an sighed.

"No, Lukios. You must stop."

"But—"

"Lukios. Do not be roused by the barking of a small and toothless dog. It is below your dignity." She kissed his cheek, then tugged on his arm. "This is enough. Come."

He made a noise of consternation. "You're too good for this world, sweetheart. Fine." He turned his attention back to Leandros. "Thank her." Lukios gave the man another shake. "Thank her for saving your worthless hide right now, and I'll let you keep your fucking teeth, you cock-sucking motherfucker."

"Go fuck your goat, you gap-assed slave-whore," Leandros rasped, and Lukios smiled, then casually slammed his own forehead down—

On Leandros' nose.

There was a crunk and Leandros howled. Blood spurted anew, making a mess over his clothes and Lukios hand.

"Enough!" Gaios boomed. "How dare you! How dare you assault my son in my own home! After the hospitality I've shown you!"

Lukios carelessly let Leandros drop to the floor, where he landed in a heap with a sobbing wheeze. The men who had been cowed into standing back scuttled in and grabbed him, helping him stagger away. Lukios wiped his hands on his toga, leaving smears of blood, then held them up in a gesture of surrender.

"With respect, Strategos," Lukios said, tone cool, "he called my wife—my wife-to-be, that is—a whore while at a feast your daughter declared to be in her honour." He pushed Ba'an behind him as he faced down the bevy of guards and their drawn weapons, looking not at all concerned. "That's how I dare." And then he added, "You could have taught him some fucking manners before I did."

"Lukios," Ba'an hissed, "do not anger him further."

She did not have her coat.

If they attacked—if all of them attacked, all at once—there was nothing she could do but throw herself over him, but that would do very little in the end. They would both end up skewered.

She should not have left her coat with Merida. It had been the height of foolishness—it had been sheer idiocy.

Why had she come in the first place? She had known this was dangerous. She had known.

And yet she had still—still—

Gaios looked apoplectic. A blood vessel throbbed in his temple, which appeared ready to pop.

Arete's face had gone white. She looked truly horrified by the turn of events, and Ba'an knew this was not at all what the girl had had in mind—she had intended some mean prank at most, not a bloody fistfight with her brother getting his face pulped and the man she loved possibly murdered by her own father.

"Please," Nikias said, interjecting himself and his bodyguards between Lukios and Gaios. "Let us all calm down and discuss this as men of letters. Swords are meant for barbarians, not each other."

"Stay out of this, pup," Gaios snapped, but before Nikias could respond, there was a dismayed cry from behind Ba'an.

"Master Leandros!"

"My pandura! No!"

Ba'an heard the twanging protest of an instrument being used in a highly improper way. She turned, eyes widening as she saw Leandros, face swollen and bloody, but eyes still full of rage and humiliation, swing the long-necked lute down—right at her.

"Leandros, no!"

Strangely, it was Nikias who cried out. Even so, Ba’an could see it did not matter: Leandros had the look of a madman, one that wanted blood.

She saw him coming. She did. But Ba'an could feel Lukios' heat at her back, could feel his soul singing, singing, singing as he stood between her and a dozen blades, and she knew: if she moved, Leandros would strike Lukios instead.

Ba'an raised her arms to cover her head. The instrument did not look very sturdy, so she would likely only have some bruises and at worst, a fracture.

She held her arms steady and braced herself.

The pain never came.

Instead, she felt Lukios warmth as he stepped in front of her, the crunch and twang of the pandura as its body broke against him, and then the wet, meaty thunk of a fist meeting flesh, and then…

Leandros crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

He was only out for a second. He roused, moaning in pain, and Arete ran to him with a little cry, snapping at the servants to bring a stretcher and a doctor, now, immediately—!

Lukios gathered Ba'an in his arms even as she stared at the spectacle. "Ba'an! You hurt anywhere?"

"I…am well." She turned her face to stare at his chest, reaching out and touching him to ensure he was not injured. "Lukios, you are the one he struck with the…pandura."

"It's just a hollow wooden box on a flimsy neck, sweetheart. I'm fine." Ba'an heard the bard make a choking, sobbing sound at the description. She turned her head to watch him gather the broken pieces of wood off the floor with an expression that would not have been misplaced at a funeral. His accompanists made soothing noises, and one of them came forward to pat him on the back; they had been lucky their own instruments were not suited for violence.

Lukios shook his head. "It's seen better days, though. Damn." Then he looked up and fixed Gaios with a glare. "And he just attacked an unarmed woman with an improvised weapon. From behind." His expression remained cold and hard as he added, "You know what he's like—what he's always been like. You can't put this one all on me, and don't lie—if some other brat had treated you and yours the way Leandros treated me and Ba'an, you would have had his fucking tongue cut from his skull. You know it."

Gaios' jaw was tight, though he did not answer. Nikias ran his hand through his hair, then spoke in his usual calm, unruffled tone. "Strategos. Lukios. This…merits serious discussion. Lukios, you assaulted a man in his own home, though he provoked you into it. Strategos, your son assaulted an unarmed woman simply because she was betrothed to the man he provoked. None of you are in the right, here."

"Don't presume to lecture me in my own home, Nikias."

Nikias raised his hands with the palms open. "I am not, Strategos. I am only relaying the facts as I see them. This can become a matter for the courts—if you wish. Or we may resolve it quietly here, through discussion like rational men. The decision is yours."

For a moment, Ba'an thought Gaios would order them all to bound in chains and dragged away—but only a moment. Instead, the man closed his eyes and took a long breath. Then he ground out, "The two of you, in my office, now. Lukios, don't think you can talk your way out of this one. You assaulted my son in my own home." When he opened his eyes, they were still full of fury. "I won't have you clapped in irons—yet. But don't get too comfortable." Then he turned and swept out, his guards parting as they waited for Lukios and Nikias to follow. Ba'an noted that they had sheathed their weapons, but most had their hands close to the hilts, eying Lukios with the wariness of a hunter approaching a cliff-cat in a snare.

Lukios only smiled; it held an edge of innocence and mockery, all at once. "Hang on," he said, then he gestured to Dita and the other girls, who were huddling together against the far wall, looking stunned by the turn of events. "Hey, take Ba'an up to her room, will you? And make sure to get her something from the market—some real food." Dita, looking more than a little dazed, turned her face to Nikias, as if asking for permission. The man only nodded and gestured at them to get to it; this seemed to rouse them, and they sprang into action.

"No." Ba'an reached out and gripped the edge of Lukios' toga. "I will go with you. This is because of me. Because I am here. It is my fault, Lukios." It was true. Leandros would not have had any ammunition if Ba’an had been anyone else.

Peripherally, she saw Nikias turn his head to look at her, but Ba'an did not spare him any attention—she was beyond caring.

She had brought trouble to his doorstep, just as she had feared—and just as Tik-tak Mal’uk had said to her on her first night here.

"It is not," Lukios snapped, sounding perfectly indignant. "Leandros is the mother of all fuckwits and this isn't your fault. Don't say that. Don't think it."

"But Lukios—"

"Aw, Ba’an. Sweetheart, no. Just…no. Come here." Lukios pulled her into his arms, and he somehow sounded cheerful again. "It'll be fine! Don't worry, and don't stay up. I'll be a while, but it'll be fine, okay?" He smoothed the hair from her forehead and kissed it. "Come on, Ba'an. Don't fret—it sure was satisfying to see that fucker get a beating, huh?"

"Lukios." The guards were staring at him with intense disapproval. "Do not say such a thing. And I will go with you." She touched his chest, trying to figure out if he'd fractured his ribs. Surely he had felt the pandura—it had struck him so hard that it had broken into pieces.

"Lady Ba'an." Nikias' tone was very mild, but she could hear the steel in it. "I understand your concern. Truly, I do. But it would be best if you remained…out of sight. Your presence will only aggravate the situation."

"But…"

"He's right, sweetheart." Lukios tipped her head up and kissed her gently on the mouth. "There. Now I'll be lucky all night. Go on and eat something, then go to bed. I'll see you later, okay?" He raised his head and called out. "Dita! Come over here and do your job, will you? Oh, and make sure you girls get some dinner, too. You must be hungry after all this excitement."

Nikias nodded. "Yes. Be sure to eat something, and…Iphram."

"Master Nikias?"

"You will stay with lady Ba'an."

The man frowned. "But…"

"You'll stay with lady Ba'an until I send for you. Is that clear?"

The two guards glanced at each other. The one named Dolus tilted his head to the side, and Iphram nodded. "As you wish, Master Nikias. I will call Eunos and Medoros to attend to you."

"Do so. And have Uchos stay with you." Nikias nodded at Ba'an. "If you'll pardon us, lady Ba'an." He smiled at her pleasantly, and it looked perfectly natural. "I will return Lukios to you shortly and in one piece."

Lukios grinned at her. "See? It'll be fine." He kissed the top of her head one more time, then stepped back, briefly squeezing her hand. "See you soon! And eat something good, 'cause damn. What a mess."

What could she possibly do? Ba'an tucked her hands into the folds of her chiton, trying to keep from biting her knuckles—Lukios always found it distressing.

"Be cautious, Lukios. Do not be ruled by your tongue or temper."

"Yes, sweetheart. Don’t worry."

She licked her lips. "I…will rely on your wisdom in this, sir Nikias."

Nikias looked mildly surprised by this. "Do not worry, lady Ba'an." He paused, and she could see he was trying to decide if he ought to say what he wished or not. He switched to K’Avaari. "Your husband-to-be has many advantages in this matter, particularly since the general’s son has a history of…disorderly behaviour. It is likely they will settle out of court, without ever reporting the matter to begin with."

"As you say." Ba'an dipped her head down. "My thanks, sir Nikias."

And now he looked more than mildly surprised. There was an awkward little pause as he tried to work out what to say. "You are welcome, lady Ba'an," he said, finally. "This is what friends are for, as the old saying goes. Now—good evening. Please, get some rest. Everything will be settled soon."

And with that they all filed out. Ba'an stood watching Lukios' back get smaller and smaller, until a guard stepped behind him and blocked him from sight.

"…Kyria?" Dita stepped forward cautiously. "Are you well? Shall I call for a physician to attend to you first?" Dita had regained herself, and she was running her eyes over Ba'an in a critical, assessing way.

Ba'an shook her head. "No. I am…I am well." She put her knuckle in her mouth and bit down, thinking. Could she send someone to fetch her bag from Merida's? Or…

No, her apartment would be locked up tight. She was likely doing her rounds at the brothels already.

She lifted her hand to her head.

What could she do?

"Kyria." Iphram stepped forward in a way that was clearly meant to shepherd her toward the hall. "I will escort you to your room. Uchos will join us shortly." He smiled stiffly, as if he was not used to making such an expression. "I am sure everything will be well, but rest assured—if it is not, I will keep you safe."

A sinking feeling took hold of her as she stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

He looked flustered by her direct question. There was an awkward pause, and then he said, "Nothing. I misspoke." He cleared his throat. "Nene, Calloe—go with one of the guards and fetch some supper." He gave her another stiff little smile. "Now—kyria. If you please?" He held out his arm, gesturing down the hall.

And that was that.

Slowly, Ba’an made her way up to her room, feeling more helpless and lost than she had in a long, long time.