Diaval rested back on her heels, looking toward the palace. By now, Soren would be in talks with the svartelves, discussing some type of statecraft or complaint, and if we were lucky they wouldn’t fight to the death or deliver some inane prophecy annoying enough for Soren to put a hole in the wall, only to make him angrier when they said they were kidding. It wasn’t hard to picture with Soren’s annoyance buzzing in my ears like an insect. I prayed to whichever god was listening that he managed to keep his temper. Not that I’d blame him for flipping out on them. I wasn’t sure how those creatures got to be so maddening, but by the gods, they made me want to tear my hair out. Even for the Permafrost, they were so … unnatural.

“You should ask Donnar,” Diaval said, eyebrows furrowing as she continued to look at the palace as if she could see inside it.

“I managed one meeting with Donnar, and I almost lost my wits. I don’t think I would survive going on Donnar’s idea of self-discovery again. Speaking to svartelves in general tends to make you want to pummel your brain into bits.”

“Svartelves know things, creepy little shits that they are. It might help.” She shrugged.

Yes, said the voice inside my head. Speak to him.

“Like I’m going to do anything you say,” I muttered under my breath. If Diaval heard me, she made no sign.

Instead, she turned her head around, looking at something over my shoulder. She breathed out heavily through her nose. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She didn’t get to answer before the stampeding of hooves and shouting of men filled the courtyard. A dark brown horse galloped past us, her reins flowing free in the wind. Right after her came Seppo and Rosamund, both men shouting at the horse and each other at the top of their lungs.

I rolled my eyes. What kind of idiot doesn’t know you don’t chase or shout at a horse you’re trying to catch.

“Do you think we should help them?” Diaval asked, though she looked reluctant.

“I kinda want to watch this one,” I said.

And so we did. For twenty agonizing minutes, we watched as the two males tried everything to get the horse back under control. Everything, of course, besides walking up to it slowly and speaking in a soft voice. Once or twice Seppo dodged a pair of hooves, which was good since, goblin or not, I was pretty sure even the advanced healing ability they had wouldn’t fix a caved-in face. Rosamund’s red hair had fallen from its ponytail and his face was streaked with what I hoped was mud. He waved his arms, trying to herd the horse toward Seppo, who immediately dove out of the way as the animal continued running at him at full speed.