It took the intendant several breaths to reply, as if he had to return from away down a long distance. Finally, his attention fixed on her. With a sigh, he nodded.

“Of course. Go on.”

“At Lancer’s Ridge—”

Five rapid horn blasts interrupted her.

11 OF COURSE HE WAS HANDSOME

From outside, a piercing whoop of excitement broke apart to become the thunderous clattering of an arrival, more horns, and ecstatic cheers. The sentinels standing at the far doors looked toward the intendant. Before he could give the command to open them, the doors were flung open from the outside.

The first people who appeared were dressed in the lichen-dyed purple worn by the menials who toiled in the service of the palace and its imperial offices, each wearing a knit cap to cover their hair. They hustled in carrying rolled-up carpets, which they unrolled to create a golden walkway down the middle of the hall.

At their heels came four wardens dressed in indigo tabards. All carried strung bows, and they scanned the hall before arranging themselves so as to be able to shoot anyone who looked threatening.

A white-haired woman followed. She wore practical traveling garb dyed a drab reddish brown, pinned with the embroidered four-chambered badge of a Heart Temple theurgist. All theurgists were bound in service, like menials, to the palace. She also held an interlocutor’s staff, which meant she was serving as the speaker for the prince.

Finally, three more wardens appeared on the threshold.

The last carpet, still unrolling, bumped Elen’s leg.

A menial exclaimed impatiently, “Move aside! Move aside!” and slapped at her with a fly whisk. She jumped up, startled by the sting of its leather cords.

The intendant hissed, “Beside my chair.”

Elen scrambled up to take a place to his right, behind his interlocutor. Two of the wardens at the door veered outward to walk on the tile floor, leaving the prince to approach alone atop the golden carpets.

Of course he was handsome, with pleasing, symmetrical features and the healthy look of a person who has always had enough to eat and has never once had to shovel out a trench stinking with feces, urine, vomit, maggots, and worms. She tried to imagine him knee-deep in shit and had to bite down on a smile. A mere deputy courier must not appear disrespectful in the presence of an emperor’s blessed—and blessedly attractive!—offspring.

He walked with the confidence of a person who trained every day in the arts that imperial princes must excel at. Judging by his imperious scowl, he expected others to know he did indeed excel.

But his good looks and arrogance weren’t what struck her most about him.