He did, however. Everyone was a potential assassin. Of course the likelihood that any of them actually were assassins was fairly low. But he was the Herald who had saved Selenay from death at the hands of her own husband, cutting the Prince down with the Prince’s own sword. He saw treachery everywhere, or feigned that he did, and when he looked at someone he didn’t know with suspicion in his eyes, that person tended to get very nervous.

Sometimes he wished that he didn’t have quite so formidable a reputation. Sometimes he wished that he could just look at someone and not have them flinch away.

That was about as likely at this point as for him to turn as handsome as young Trainee Kris.

That was what Herald-Chronicler Myste said, anyway, looking at him from behind those peculiar split-lensed spectacles of hers that forced her pull her head back to peer down her nose when she was reading and tilt her chin down to peer through the top half when she was looking at anything past the length of her arms. “What do you expect?” she’d ask him tartly. “The man who’ll cut down a prince wouldn’t hesitate at putting a blade in the heart of a man of lesser rank. But for the gods’ sake don’t ever try smiling at them. You aren’t any good at faking a smile, and when you try, you look as if you were about to jump on people and tear their throats out with your teeth.”

A pity Myste was perhaps the Herald who was the most inept with weapons in the entire Circle. He could do with a dose of her good sense here tonight. Not that she’d enjoy it, of course. She would far rather be where she could avoid all this interminable nonsense, in her quarters, either writing up the current Chronicles or going over old ones, a glass of cold, sweet tea at her elbow.

Where she would probably knock it over at least once tonight. Hopefully when she did, the glass would be empty. If it wasn’t, well, at least the papers on her floor were discards, unlike the ones piled all over Elcarth’s office.

Alberich pulled his attention back to the reception. The heat wave had finally broken, though the thick stone walls of the Old Palace kept every room in it comfortably cool even during the worst of the heat. With the doors open, there was a pleasant scent coming from the roses in the courtyard. No one had gone out there, though, for Selenay and Orthallen were in here. No matter how tired anyone’s feet got, he wouldn’t leave where the power was.