Page 18 of The Second Marriage
“Yes. All right. You’re right.” Taral rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I’m used to dealing with Iniya. It’s possible I take a heavier hand with her than I should.”
Sejun knew better than to comment on the matter of Taral’s relationship with his sister. He said, “I know you’ve had to live simply for many years. But there’s money now. Give me your blessing to spend some of it to improve our home.” Sensing that Taral was weakening, he added, “And it would give me a project to occupy my time.”
That struck its mark. Taral flinched slightly. “I see. Well, I can’t argue with that.” He frowned down at his cup of water and said nothing further.
Here was Sejun’s chance to demand that Taral spend more time with him, or to request it politely, at least. But Taral’s downcast eyes and down-turned mouth provided no encouragement, and Sejun held his tongue.
It would be easy to give up and resign himself to a marriage of acquaintances, a life spent in companionship but not love. But although Batsal hadn’t been wrong to accuse him of self-pity, it wasn’t in Sejun’s nature to succumb to despair. Taral didn’t love him yet, but that didn’t mean he never would.
One day at a time, he told himself. He would win Taral over in the end. He was sure of it.
* * *
Tejal the artistfrowned at the mural with such disapproval that Sejun felt sure they would reject the task as impossible. He tried not to fidget as he waited. When Tejal at last straightened from peering at the wall and said, “Yes, I can do this,” Sejun was so surprised that at first he thought he had misheard.
“You can?” he said. “I mean—I’m pleased to hear it.”
“I can start tomorrow,” Tejal said. “I’ll need help bringing my supplies from town.” They looked at Sejun expectantly.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Sejun said. Surely he could figure something out.
He sought out Ujesh with some trepidation. The steward seemed busy at all times and as if he had far more important things to do than indulge Sejun’s whims. If the man ever smiled, Sejun had yet to see it. Sejun found him in the long, cramped outbuilding in the front courtyard that served as the fortress’s kitchen, holding an intense discussion with the head cook. Sejun waited nearby, idly watching a woman peeling potatoes until she gave him a look with her eyebrows raised that made him flush and look away. He was, it was true, mostly useless.
Ujesh detached himself at last and turned to Sejun. “Yes?”
Sejun held himself upright. He wasn’t a prince, but he was a prince’s spouse, and he wasn’t going to let Ujesh cow him into going away with his task unfinished. “I’m having the murals in the entryway repaired. The artist needs help bringing their materials to the fortress.” He stopped and waited. Ujesh only looked at him with an impassive expression. Sejun’s confidence began to crumble, but he forged onward. “I’ll need a few servants to go into town later today and transport everything back here.”
Ujesh didn’t move or react aside from a single slow blink of his eyes. “I see.”
Sejun was unpleasantly reminded of his first infuriating conversations with Taral. “Is there someone else I should go to for aid? I’m asking you because I don’t know who else to ask.”
Ujesh bowed. “I’m pleased to send three men. You may direct them as you see fit.”
“I’m grateful for your assistance,” Sejun said through gritted teeth, and Ujesh bowed again and turned away, dismissing him as though Sejun were the servant.
His behavior was inexcusably rude, but Sejun would excuse it; he had no choice. Only a fool would begin his tenure in a new place by alienating the steward.
He went out feeling rather irate. He was only trying to do something nice—to improve the lives of everyone in the fortress. Who wouldn’t enjoy walking past lovely murals every day?
He stopped there outside the kitchen and watched the mid-morning activity in the courtyard. A man was spinning cotton in the doorway of an outbuilding, with two small children playing beside him. A woman walked past carrying a bundle of firewood on her back. A few sheep went by followed by a boy who seemed to have been tasked with attending to them. Did any of these people care about the murals? Did they even notice? Sejun didn’t even know how many servants lived in the fortress instead of returning to homes in the town every evening. Was he focusing on something frivolous that no one actually cared about?
Hecared. He lived here, too.
The man seated at his floor wheel glanced over at Sejun and nodded his head in greeting. Sejun returned the gesture. Then he turned and went to search for Ujesh again.
This time he found the steward in a storage room inside the fortress, checking inventory off a list. He did not look happy to see Sejun again so soon. Quite the opposite.
“What can I help you with,” Ujesh said in a flat tone.
“The fortress is in disrepair,” Sejun said. “I would like to remedy that for the benefit of everyone who lives and works here. What most urgently needs fixing?”
Ujesh regarded him without expression. “Some of the roofs are leaking.”
“Do you happen to know of anyone who does that sort of work?”
Sejun then received his proof that Ujesh did know how to smile. “I believe I could find someone, my lord.”
He sat beneath the fig tree in the courtyard for a while, watching people come and go. One of the resident cats had new kittens who had reached the age of wild chasing and pouncing; they wrestled in a writhing ball of tails and legs and tumbled, squeaking, over Sejun’s feet. The air was growing hot as noon approached. He felt restless and unsettled and didn’t know why. All of his plans had met with success. He rose to his feet.