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“Thank you, may the gods smile upon you.”

My answer was somewhat vacant as I kept my eyes on Gennel Rhen’s retreating figure until the doors shut behind him. Behar’s snarling cut off almost immediately after Gennel crossed the door’s threshold. My attention dropped to his tense body, now looking even more foreboding with his fur bristling and teeth still bared. It took him a few minutes to unwind, but finally he flopped down on the cool stone floor and rested his head at my feet with a huff. “Beolf, have the spymaster set someone on him. I want to know everything about this Rhen family. How have they gone five years without my notice?”

“Well, the Guild of Finance keeps their cards pretty close to the chest, and they mainly report to the Royal Council and not the king himself. I’m sure there are several silent contributors to the guild treasury that insist on being anonymous. Otherwise, thosefamilies would be in constant danger of being ransomed or killed to weaken competitors in other guilds.”

“Still, there should be a roster, no? Have a request sent to list all the investors of the guild treasury.”

Beowulf sighed heavily. “I’m sure the council has it, if you would leverage your advantage as the upcoming king instead of threatening them for information.”

“They would not give that up without something in return. I refuse to be the puppet that dances on their strings.”

“All the same, you may find them more willing to share what they know if they didn’t feel like their heads were constantly on the chopping block.”

This time I growled, the sound low in my chest. Beolf remained unbothered, but Behar’s ears rose to attention. “And what was your problem?” I asked the rinhound.

Behar lifted his head, as if knowing I was talking to him. His mouth opened wide enough to let his tongue flop out in a happy grin that showed all his menacing teeth. The way he tilted his head to the side with his ears perked gave the sense he was asking, ‘what do you mean?’ My connection to him wasn’t as strong in my natural form, but I wasn’t going through the immense pain of shifting just to see what pissed him off. Maybe Gennel was wearing a cologne Behar didn’t like. Or he could have pets of his own and their scent put him on guard.

Regardless, I couldn’t stay mad at him for any length of time. Especially not with that goofy, toothy smile.

“Your Highness,” the butler called, and I wanted to cringe. “Are you ready for the next guest?”

Chapter Twelve

Irin

Sinna and I camped at the entrance to the Clifftombs, a spark of hope lighting from the realization someone had to

raise the palace’s drawbridge from the inside. At first light, we walked all around the walls looking for some hint of

an alternate entrance. Sinna was correct about the wards. I am not unknowledgeable about wards and the breaking

of them, but these were constructed on a level I had yet to see in my 25 years of magic studies. Whoever cast these

wards would likely be the only one who could lower them.

-"The Tragic History of Julra," by High Scholar Yuret Wend, Year 39 of Ber's First Reign

The twelfth and final name announced by the attendant was definitely the most welcome. It had been the only one I would actually look forward to seeing any time of day.

“Your Highness, Lady Haron Val Toric is your last guest for court.”

I tried to hide the excitement that bubbled inside me, like a nest of bees had been kicked over in my stomach. Beolf seemed to notice me practically buzzing, rolling his eyes with a huff. His shoulder pressed against the side of the heavy throne as he leaned with his arms folded tightly across his chest. It was no secret he disliked Haron, but at least he trusted her enough to be at ease… mostly.

Behar, on the other hand, was ecstatic to see her. He bounded down the steps and trotted to meet her halfway down the red carpet runner with a wagging tail and tongue lolling out. The way he danced on his front paws until she bent to give him an affectionate pet on his scruffy head melted my heart to a puddle. After she gave him an acceptable amount of attention, Haron patted her thigh to encourage Behar to stick by her side as she continued on her way toward me. Behar kept his head tilted up and eyes set on her as he trotted along, eagerly waiting for more attention.

I feel the same, friend.We were both hungry for any scrap of recognition from her.

Even in the massive receiving hall, Haron’s presence filled the space with her radiating confidence. Everyone else who stepped through those doors gave sniveling, knee-scraping energy that left a dark stain on my mood. She was once again a refreshing gust of air that swept down the carpeted walkway, shoulders pulled back and head held high as she glided toward the throne. I could easily see the travel bags buckled to her belt and the sheaths for her sword and thigh dagger strapped to her person, but she moved so smoothly none of her baggage jostled or clanged.

Haron Val Toric may be the only woman in Respar who could attract me just as much with her silent conviction as she did with her sharp wit.

“Prince Irin.”

Haron stopped at the bottom step of the platform, and instead of dipping into the traditional curtsy, bowed low at the waist like a man. True, it would have looked out of place for her to do such a dainty move in her rugged travel attire, but nonetheless sent Beolf to openly choke on a laugh at her choice of greeting. Behar nudged her side again, thinking that she was bending over to pet him and making her laugh heartily. Haron dropped to her knees and buried both hands in the thick fur on either side of his neck to give Behar another thorough petting, bordering just on the cusp of rough as she shook his head with her scratching.

“Why I expected anything else, I don’t know,” Beolf coughed out. “That rinhound is a damn traitor, though.”

The smile that lit her face was equal parts ferocious and jovial. “Your expectations of me are none of my business unless I explicitly ask you. Right, Behar? Right?” Her voice became syrupy sweet as she turned her attention back to him, a stark contrast from the waspish tone she threw Beolf’s way.