Chapter 210: Ammunition [Win-Win]

"You hated her."

Kamal’s brows lifted slightly. "I did not meet her."

Liam paused.

"She was dead before my time," Kamal said. "I am only five years older than Felix."

Liam stared at him. "I keep forgetting everyone involved in this disaster has an age that makes normal history collapse."

Kamal accepted that without offense. "I know of her from records, household accounts, and what His Majesty said when he was too tired to keep old bitterness locked away. I did not hate her. Hatred requires a personal relationship. I judged her."

"That sounds worse."

"It was more precise."

Liam leaned back. "So you entered Goliath’s service later."

"Much later."

"As steward?"

"No." Kamal’s mouth curved faintly, as if the memory had survived ruin in better condition than most. "I entered his service because I said something stupid."

Liam blinked.

Kamal looked at the window again, but this time the distance in his eyes had warmth in it. "I was a minor administrative clerk attached to a provincial supply office. Very young. Very certain of my own intelligence. His Majesty came to inspect the ether distribution system after three failures in one month. He was not dressed as emperor."

"Of course he wasn’t."

"He wore workshop clothes, had oil on one sleeve, and looked like a senior engineer with no patience for anyone’s excuses. I did not recognize him."

Liam’s eyes sharpened. "What did you say?"

Kamal was silent for one dignified second.

Then he said, "I told him the emperor’s engineers were either drunk, bribed, or educated by goats."

Liam choked.

The ward pulsed blue.

Kamal looked at it.

Liam waved him off with one hand, coughing into his fist. "No, no, continue. This is medically necessary."

"It was not my wisest moment."

"What did he do?"

"He asked which option I considered most likely."

Liam stared.

"I said bribed," Kamal continued. "Drunk men sometimes succeed by accident, and goats would have shown more natural caution near unstable ether lines."

Liam pressed one hand over his mouth.

Kamal’s eyes warmed. "His Majesty stared at me for a long time. Then he asked for my name, my supervisor’s name, the last six months of supply approvals, and whether I could read pressure ledgers without lying to protect senior officials."

"And you said?"

"I said I could, but I preferred being paid on time."

Liam laughed then, quiet but helpless.

The ward pulsed again, sharper.

Kamal waited until Liam forced himself to breathe.

"Three days later," Kamal said, "I was summoned to the capital. I thought I was being executed."

"Reasonable assumption."

"Yes. Instead, His Majesty informed me I had been transferred."

"To the palace?"

"To his household staff."

Liam’s laughter faded into disbelief. "He just acquired you."

"That was the word I used at the time."

"And he allowed that?"

"He heard it." Kamal’s mouth softened. "He said accurate language should be rewarded when it survived terror."

Liam looked down at his scone, smiling despite himself.

"So that is how you served an emperor."

"Yes. I insulted his engineers without knowing who he was, accused provincial officials of corruption, and requested reliable wages."

"That is absurd."

"It was Nuria."

"That explains nothing and somehow everything."

Kamal inclined his head. "His Majesty did not collect people because they were agreeable. He collected usefulness, honesty, and occasionally bad judgment at the correct moment."

Liam’s smile faded slightly.

"That sounds like Arik too."

"Yes," Kamal said softly. "It does."

"I’m still mad about him hiding that from me," Liam said, his eyes moving to the windows.

"As you should be, he knew what the risk of hiding from his mate was." Kamal smiled. "He needs some reminders that consequences get him too."

Liam huffed a low laugh. "What juicy secrets you have about Goliath got transferred to Arik?" He looked at Kamal, raising a brow. "I want ammunition for later use."

Kamal’s expression became very still.

It was not refusal.

It was the face of a man carefully deciding which household betrayals could be justified as therapeutic.

"Ammunition," he repeated.

"Yes."

"Against His Highness."

"For later use," Liam said, with the grave dignity of someone preparing a defensive campaign. "Nothing catastrophic. I have enough catastrophic material. I want normal things. Embarrassing things. Things that will make him look at me as if I have personally betrayed the dignity of empires."

Kamal considered him for a long moment.

Then he said, "His Majesty disliked being thanked."

Liam blinked. "That is not embarrassing. That is concerning."

"It was also very obvious."

Liam’s interest sharpened. "Go on."

"Formal gratitude did not trouble him. He could accept court thanks, military thanks, and diplomatic thanks. Those had structure. They belonged to protocol." Kamal’s mouth softened faintly. "But sincere thanks unsettled him. If someone looked directly at him and thanked him honestly, he became very still, then changed the subject."

Liam stared.

"Arik does that."

"Yes."

Liam’s mouth curved slowly. "So if I thank him sincerely, he malfunctions."

"Not visibly to most people."

"I am not most people."

"No," Kamal said. "You are not."

Liam sat back, looking pleased in a way the ward apparently found acceptable because it did not pulse. "Excellent. That is useful. What else?"

Kamal folded one hand over the other. "His Majesty hated sweet white-lily perfume."

Liam paused.

Then his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"He said it made every room smell as if someone had tried to disguise bad intentions with funeral flowers."

Liam’s expression went very still for half a second.

Felix’s poison had smelled of rotting lilies.

Kamal seemed to realize the turn at the same time and corrected gently, "This was before Felix’s poisoning. He disliked artificial floral scents in general. White lily most of all. Also, violet powder. And a certain expensive rose oil from the western provinces."

"Why the rose oil?"

"It gave him headaches."

"That is painfully normal."

"Yes."

Liam absorbed that with quiet fascination. "So the ancient emperor with dragon blood and a vanished empire could be defeated by bad perfume."

Kamal’s eyes warmed. "Temporarily irritated, not defeated."

"I will write that down."

"Please do not."

"I absolutely will."

Kamal’s mouth almost curved. "He also refused to use decorative pillows."

Liam looked at him.

"Decorative pillows."

"Yes."

"As in pillows on sofas?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He believed any object placed on a chair should either support the body or be removed. If it required relocation before sitting, it had failed its purpose."

Liam stared.

Then, slowly, "That is the most Arik thing I have ever heard."

"His Highness removed six pillows from the eastern sitting room yesterday."

Liam’s eyes brightened. "He did?"

"Yes. He said the arrangement was ’hostile to function.’"

Liam pressed a hand over his mouth.

The ward pulsed once, faintly, perhaps suspicious of laughter but not yet offended.

Kamal continued, now clearly accepting the assignment. "His Majesty also disliked overly tall candles at dinner."

"Because of fire risk?"

"Because they blocked sightlines."

"Sightlines to what?"

"Everyone."

Liam lowered his hand. "That is less innocent."

"It became innocent when he complained that people looked more annoying when seen around candle flames."

Liam laughed softly. "That sounds like him."

"Yes."

"What else?"

"He had very particular opinions about spoons."

Liam froze. "I beg your pardon?"

"Spoons."

"As in eating spoons."

"Yes. He believed soup spoons should not be deeper than necessary, because excessive depth encouraged poor pacing and made conversation awkward."

Liam stared at Kamal in silent wonder.

Kamal looked serene.

"You are telling me," Liam said slowly, "that Goliath, emperor of Nuria, sovereign of ruin, and dragon-blooded terror of councils, had opinions about soup spoon depth."

"Strong opinions."

Liam leaned back with a very bright smile. "I am going to use all of this."

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