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Irin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I am quickly finding that nothing is ‘mild’ when it comes to you.”

“You’d be right about that. But this is more of a request. I’m investigating a particularly brutal murder, and I need access to some of the upper echelon to look for some clues about how she died. You may be aware of the recent disappearance of Lady Trisne Pid?”

He blinked, looking absolutely confused and disturbed. “Trisne? I thought she was visiting the City of Scholars. You mean to tell me she’sdead? When did this come to light?”

“When I had her body shamble up to the Necromancy Guild and confront the guildmaster.”

Now he looked truly disgusted. “Wha… How? Why would you do something vile like that?”

“If you saw the state of her body, I don’t think you’d say I was the vile one. It appeared, from the damage done to her body, that she was used for some kind of ritualistic practice. I have reason to believe Nebold was involved, but I don’t think he was alone.” I steepled my fingers again, staring at the wall in front of my desk but my mind in other places. “I’d like to get a feel for the pulse of the nobles, see if anyone is particularly jumpy after the scene I caused yesterday.”

“And how exactly do you want me involved in this plan?” Irin seemed skeptical, and still a little traumatized.

My stare cut to Irin’s frowning face. “I need some access to Highlan-hosted events. In particular, anything Jinon Pid is involved in.”

I didn’t want to mention the letters I stole from Pid’s study. Irin would likely confiscate them and start his own investigation, ergo her death would be buried under political bullshit as soon as Jinon caught wind of it. I was sure by now he realized that evidence was gone from his desk, but since I hadn’t been hauled off under his orders there was a chance he didn't know I was the one who had stolen the letters. He would find out soon, though. And I was positioning myself to be untouchable in the Prince's employment and presence.

This last request threw Irin completely off-balance. He folded his arms, brow drawn low in confusion, as he seemed to consider the term. “So basically, you want to be my guest for any events Highlan Pid hosts?”

“Yes.”

“And you will agree to stay on retainage as long as the payment is made weekly, and you reserve the right to terminate if you are uncomfortable with the arrangement?”

I picked up the pen and began jotting the terms in a bulleted list on the paper. “That’s it. And the invitation to attend events Highlan Pid hosts.”

The tapping of the pen as I wrote was the only sound breaking the silence between us. Irin seemed to really be mulling everything over, probably looking for any indication I was trying to trick him. “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

I added his own to keep me on retainage at the bottom and struck two lines for both of us to sign on. “Excellent! Our words and signatures are our bonds. After you.”

He plucked the paper off the desk as soon as I slid it close enough to reach, his eyes flitting over the few lines on the page. Without looking, Irin reached out with his palm up to silently ask for the pen. My fingertips barely touched his skin when I handed it over, but even that slight contact had a zip of magic shocking my fingertips. Irin flinched at the contact. I could imagine he felt like one big, exposed nerve, with his magic so out of sorts right now.

Once he was satisfied with the contract and laid it on the small side table to sign, he quickly handed the page back without making eye contact. Like… he was ashamed of his lack of control. His thumb worried that same spot on his pointer finger again. I signed my own name with sharp, precise slants and plucked another page out of the desk to lie on top. It was a simple spell, one that most practitioners learn early on, to copy the text from one page to another. I pressed my hand firmly at the top and focused a bit of magic in the palm before sweeping it down the page to copy the original.

Irin’s eyes were downcast when I offered the copied contract out to him. “Next time, bring your hound with you.”

His smile was rueful. “No keeping secrets from you, is there?”

“Nope,” I popped the ‘p.’ “So, you will be picking me up tomorrow evening?”

“Pardon?”

I pushed up from the desk and meandered over to the door, pulling it open in a silent gesture that our time here was done. He was slower at following behind, absently holding the paper at his side as he gave a lost look.

“Highlan Pid is holding a masquerade tomorrow night, and I intend to go with you. I’m sure you were invited. Maybe check with your head butler to ensure we are on the guest list. I can meet you at the street corner three blocks south of here, say five o’clock?”

Irin continued to gaze with a mixture of awe and shock, like I had swept him clear off his feet with the knowledge of Pid’s party. His lips began to curl up at the corners, an amused smile slowly cresting his face when he came alongside me in the hall. “You are a fascinating and terrifying woman, Lady Val Toric.”

“Haron, please,” I corrected him. “And yes, I am.”

And with that, I firmly shut the door in his face.

Chapter Eight

Haron

A select few of the Julran refugees have chosen to stay in the City of Scholars to further their studies and likewise

add to our own library the history of Julra steeped in magic. A thousand strong, however, have set out from the city