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Ittman’s face was turning an alarming shade of purple. “She… Ishma is a well-bred lady of the court, sir! Our family had been in service to the crown for generations, dating back to the establishment of Respar! What more could you possibly ask for?” The question seemed to take him by surprise, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. He fidgeted with his tight collar and cleared his throat several times. “Apologies, sir. It is not my place to assume what you desire in a wife.”

“On that, you’re absolutely right.” I pointed a finger in his direction, the others wrapped around my tumbler as I lifted it for another drink. “And all the reasons you listed previously have no bearing on my choice of a wife. I need someone to rule at my side, not a breeding mare.”

I could see his jaw working even from where I sat five paces away. “Of course,” he said, although it was more of a choked agreement. “I just want what is best for my sister.”

At that I barked a laugh. It held no mirth. “And you think that is being a queen? I’m shocked someone as close to the throne as yourself has such a romantic view of the position.”

“Pardon?”

“Let me be clear.” I placed the glass down gently and laced my fingers to rest on the desk. “I don’t want or need a soft lady of the court as my wife and queen. I have seen people get chewed up and spat out, even by the likes of you and the other old men my father called advisors.” Ittman balked and his mouth opened as if to argue, but I barreled right over him. “I would be even more leery of choosing any relative of yours—which, let’s admit, is about half the noble women in Gilamorst—because I know you’d be at their ear directing their every move. So no, I don’t want someone you can easily manipulate, nor do I want anyone elsehand-picked by your peers. If that was what you were here to petition me about, I hope I made my stance clear. And honestly, I would prefer you spend more time trying to investigate who killed my father than finding someone to birth my successor.”

“I… But sir… We—” Ittman was well and truly flustered now. I loved watching him squirm under the harsh light I cast on his intentions.

"I have reason to believe you had a hand in my father's unfortunate demise."

My accusation, blunt and straight to the heart of the conversation, made the man's face drain completely of its caramel coloring. His eyes widened to a comical proportion, as if at any moment they would be shot straight from his skull. "I-I c-could never, P-Prince Irin!" He struggled to get the words out in his flustered state. "Your f-father was as c-close to a father of my own as I could have imagined!

"You were also the last to see the king in his dining chambers. So, could you tell me why you needed an audience with His Majesty at such a late hour?"

His lips pursed, as if trying to keep himself from revealing whatever it was he tried to keep inside. "That really is not your business, Your Highness. It was a sensitive matter to begin with."

"Was the matter regarding me?"

"I really must insist on confidentiality. Especially since we have more pressing matters—"

I slammed my hand on the desk enough to make pens and letter openers skitter across the top. It was immensely satisfying to see him jump out of his chair like a scared rabbit. "This is a pressing matter for me. How you answer could determine whether your head stays attached to your neck."

Ittman was struck speechless. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish gasping for air out of water. I couldfeel the corners of my lips curl up slightly, and despite the very satisfying feeling of being the predator in the room, tried to keep my gloating hidden behind another sip of my drink. The crystal tumbler was turning out to be the most useful prop in this room.

"Take this back to the council," I continued, leaning back far enough to prop up my shined black books on the corner of the desk, right in the crook of a virilan's neck craned to face our visitor. "Let them know I already have a bridal candidate in mind and will not need assistance with planning the coronation or wedding. I also want a written report of your exact conversation with my father the night before he was found dead. You will have a moon phase to put it right here." I tapped on the desktop with a finger. "That's fair, isn't it?"

It was just enough of the truth to not cause me to inflict self-harm. If my research proved fruitful, I would have more of an idea about a possible bride. One with fiery red hair.

No one knew of my ability to separate lies from truths. It was a subtle skill, one not easily sensed by the temples or guildmasters when I was presented to them as an adolescent on the cusp of maturity. To say my father was disappointed at my apparent lack of magic was an understatement. To the world, I just seemed to be an incredibly astute and observant person. The sensory responses I experienced when presented with falsities were a huge part of how I’d managed to place myself in such a strategic advantage after Father's death.

"That's… fair." Ittman finally managed to find his voice. He rose on obviously shaking legs and gave a shallow bow. Insulting to anyone else of the royal family, but I couldn't care less as long as he got out of the study quicker. "Thank you for your time, Your Highness. I will deliver your request to the council and report back within seven days."

"Excellent," I murmured to his retreating back, watching him scamper away and slam the door needlessly hard behind himself. "Run along to your master and lead me right to him."

There were many cogs in movement now, and one wrong move would have me crushed between the gears in this machine of betrayal. Or I could take down this manipulation machine entirely, and from its rubble build the country I believe Respar could be without all these broken cogs.

“What had Ittman running off like his ass was on fire?”

Beolf slouched in the chair opposite mine by the fireplace, swirling a glass of goldtine. His trimmed black beard—just barely growing in since he shaved for his infiltration of Pid’s guards—covered most of his lower face, but the twitch of his lips into an amused smirk was obvious enough.

“You saw him?”

He barked a hearty laugh. “Hardly! He sprinted out of this room so fast his feet hardly had traction against the floor. It reminded me of the time I let Behar out on a frozen lake for the first time! He even tripped going around the corner toward the grand hall.”

“I wish I would have seen that in person.”

“Me too. But I have something else that needs your attention, beyond Juril acting like you lit him up.”

I lifted my own tumbler, encouraging him to continue.

“Guildmaster Nebold has threatened to issue a warrant for that woman we ran into. Haron Val Toric? He says she is a danger to society. In his statement, he claims she is too dangerous to employ, so he will not be able to facilitate a contract for her employment as part of your staff.”

It hadn’t even been one whole moon phase, only six days after my visit to the guild to request her on retainage. Either Nebold didn’t do a good job presenting the offer, or he didn’t even try. I placed my bets on the latter. It was interesting he only threatened, and didn't follow through with the warrant.