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He was obviously flustered. And watching him squirm on the hook he’d set himself was fulfilling in its own way. I braced my elbow on the bar to prop my head in as he bumbled and blustered through several attempted apologies. “Can we… can we find a private place to discuss our own arrangement?”

My smirk grew salacious again. His eyes drifted down to lock on my lips. “Of course, whatever you would like. Gaion!” I called down the bar to its grouchy tavern master. “Put my guest’s drink on my tab, would you?”

Gaion scoffed. “Like I ever make you pay for drinks, girl.” His response was almost a growl. “Get outta here. I’ll send up some dinner later.”

I threw a joking salute and smacked my hands on the worn bar to push myself up off the stool. “Thank you, father! Come along. My room is upstairs.” I gestured for Irin to follow me in skirting the main area toward the staircase.

“Of course.”

He took a moment to make sure his coat covered as much of his defining features as it could, slipping the last couple of buttons through their holes to the chin and adjusting the collar again before rising to join me.

His hands remained firmly in his pockets and his elbows tucked close to his body, as if trying to look as small and unassuming as possible.

It wasn’t until we both cleared the door, and I shut it behind us with the lock thrown, that he finally seemed to relax a bit.

I gestured to the coat rack. “Feel free to strip some layers. Make yourself at home.”

Irin took in the simple, unadorned room for a few moments, taking a slow spin in the center until he faced me again. “Not that I’m trying to pry, but is he truly your father?”

“Gaion? Gods, no! If he were, he’d likely chew my ear off daily instead of weekly for all the things I make him put up with. But I’ve known him since I began visiting Gilamorst regularly a little over five years ago, and he hasn’t been able to weed me out of his life yet.”

A small smile teased the corners of Irin’s mouth. “I see. You are fortunate to have people like him who care so deeply about you.”

There was something behind his words, a tinge of sadness and longing, that made my heart twist painfully in my chest. I knew the kind of loneliness he likely felt.

It may have been many lives ago, but it still stung sometimes to think of being held at arm's length by those who should hug tightly. I didn’t like to dwell on it too much, and I wouldn’t let him either.

With a snicker, I reached over to snatch the hat from his head and toss it on the rack. He blinked a few times, obviously shocked that part of his cover was removed.

“Is this how you treat all your clients?”

He got a toothy grin in response, drawing his eyes back down to my lips, where they lingered just a bit too long.

“Only the ones who lurk around in disguise. If you can’t trust me to keep your identity a secret in the privacy of my own room, it will be hard to establish a working relationship for anything. Right?”

“I suppose,” he answered, and pulled his hands from their pockets to undo the buttons on his coat. “I guess I was a little shocked at how… sparse your room is.”

“Why? Because I make a lot of money?” It was oddly entertaining to throw Irin off balance and watch him try to maintain that stiff composure Gilamorst nobles seemed obsessed with.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but most of my profit goes to helping Gaion run The Hanging Cat or to the Gilamorst Orphanage.

Which, I’m sure you’re aware, the ratio of girls to boys adopted is one to four.

In case you want to add that to your list of issues to clear up after your coronation. ”

Irin was shaken by the unexpected information. “I… um, that… that is concerning. And also very noble of you. Gilamorst is certainly grateful for—”

“Let’s cut the pleasantries, shall we? Your payment of whatever services you want from me will benefit the people of Gilamorst more than the regime has thus far, so don’t waste my time. Respectfully,” I added snidely. “Please, take a seat and tell me what your need my services for.”

The available seat in question was a well-worn couch beneath the room’s only window, where I usually sat to read the latest news pamphlet or a rare tome on necromancy that caught my eye in a bookshop.

He continued to stare dumbly as I walked to the chair belonging to the nearby writing desk and pulled it out for myself, further indicating where he should sit.

It wasn’t until I found a blank piece of paper and a pen to write ‘terms of service’ neatly across the top that he finally moved, taking a seat on the couch stiffly.

“Loosen up, Your Highness,” I teased. “I’m done chastising you about the deficiencies of your crown city. Now, how can I help you?”

He still looked a bit like startled prey but collected his senses enough to clear his throat and cross his right leg over the left. His hands clutched the knee lightly, the pose of casual sophistication. I noticed his thumb worry at something beneath the glove of his right pointer finger absently.

Whatever confidence Irin had walked into this room with seemed to have left him now. “I was hoping to negotiate an agreement for retainage.”

My brows shot up like they were trying to join my hairline. This was a surprise.

I raised my eyes from the paper I was prepared to write on, scanning the prince’s freckled face for any sign of duplicity. He was nervous, sure, but he seemed sincere. “Retainage? As in, serving on your staff? Being on call for your needs, essentially?”

His eyes shifted to the side, not meeting mine directly.

“It’s… a bit more complicated than that.

There’s quite a bit of…” Irin glanced around the room, as if he was going to find the right words to use in here.

“Mystery involving the late king’s death.

And on top of that, some of his most trusted advisors died shortly after his body was found.

I need a skilled necromancer to call on if any other staff members… suffer a similar fate.”

There was something about his stilted speech, the awkward pauses and general unease that made me suspicious.

“Certainly.” I put the pen down and leaned back in my chair, pushing the front two legs off the ground until it creaked in protest. My elbows found the armrests and I steepled my fingers to press them against my lips thoughtfully.

“You do realize I am capable of raising the dead to determine the cause of death, don’t you?

This mystery” — I didn’t think it was much of a mystery, sitting in front of the only person who would benefit from King Henton dying— “could be easily solved if I had access to the graves of the victims. You wouldn’t need to keep me on retainage for that. ”

The change was immediate. If I hadn’t been staring so intently at his face, I would have easily missed the slip in control he held on his expression. Alarm widened his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly before it settled again.

Interesting.

“I’m sure you could,” Irin answered, voice smooth and unbothered.

“But I have others who are already looking into the advisors’ deaths, although their bodies have yet to be found so the deaths are assumed.

And Father’s death was ruled as an unexpected heart failure.

I’d like to reserve your services for future cases, if there happen to be any, and if needed, go back and reevaluate those who are missing. ”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed noncommittally. I’m sure my suspicion was plain on my face, but he made no effort to dissuade it.

This whole effort of trying to have me held on retainage seemed like a farce, something he was just going through the steps on.

Why else would he not want me to investigate the people who’d died recently?

My curiosity was eating me alive.

“Ok, I’ll go on retainage. But I have conditions of my own.”

I’m sure if I hadn’t been watching him so intently, Irin would be sagging in relief. As it was, he expressed his eagerness by planting both booted feet on the ground and leaning forward, hands gripping his thighs as if to contain himself. “I’m open to negotiations.”

Sure he was.

My eyes never left his face, but I set the legs of my chair down and reached for the pen still laid across the almost-blank paper, pressing the end to my bottom lip in thought. I was going to take full advantage of the boon I’d been given in Prince Irin’s obvious desperation.

“First, my rate will be five drummons per moon phase. Four of them will be sent directly to the orphanage. And you will indicate it is from me, not a donation from the sudden conscience the royal family has developed.”

Irin nodded, not batting an eye at the amount. That wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for the royal treasury. But that would be a huge break for the orphanage.

“Secondly, I have the right to deny services and terminate my contract if I find anything that indicates some nefarious plan you’re dragging me into.”

He was more hesitant to agree to that condition. “What would you describe as ‘nefarious?’”

“Well, it doesn’t really help your case to ask that kind of question, for starters.”

A heavy sigh left Irin’s nose, and he leaned back to pinch the bridge of it in frustration. He was practically vibrating with the tension coiled in his body. It wasn’t his body language that interested me, however.

It was his aura .

His magic was all over the place, arches of earthy brown tones leaping from him as if his own magic was trying to escape his body.

I’m not sure even he realized how erratic his energy appeared.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people’s energies spike under emotional stress, but this was wholly different.

It was like he couldn’t contain that terramancy magic.

Like it wasn’t really his to begin with.

“Terramancy is not your affinity, is it?”

Irin’s head snapped down and his face was a mixture of shock and offended. “Excuse me?”