There was a long pause while Zetena looked at Tahl, apparently politely waiting for him to list his titles. When he didn’t, the corner of his lips quirked into a subtle but noticeable smirk. Anapa bit his tongue, resisting the temptation to make up a series of titles on the spot for his friend. That would be a diplomatic mistake, in the long run – there was no way in the world Tahl could pass as upper class.

The enormous doors swung open and Zetena stepped through, leaving Anapa and Tahl waiting on the other side. His voice rang through the large chamber within, echoing off the intricately carved walls.

“Presenting to the Great Throne, may he live and prosper in good health,” the nobleman seemed to almost purr as he spoke. “Lord Anapa, son of the Great Throne, presumed heir to the Great Throne, Prince of all Canids, Lord of Death, Interpreter of the Ancestors, may he live and prosper in good health. And…” Zetena paused, obviously revelling in the moment, “…Tahl.”

Anapa waited another second, expecting Zetena to add may he life and prosper in good health to the end of Tahl’s name, but apparently Zetena didn’t consider Tahl a worthy enough visitor for that. It was the first time Anapa had ever heard anyone be presented to the king without that particular addendum. Although, to be entirely fair, it was also the first time he’d ever heard a commoner be presented to the king.

Mentally steeling himself, Anapa stepped through the doors. He’d half-hoped that time and distance would have prevented his stomach dropping through the floor this time the way it always did, but no such luck.

It was a room which was designed to make visitors’ mouths run dry. The doors opened into a hypostyle hallway lined with enormous pillars. It was an architectural achievement second to none, especially in a society which lacked Earth’s technology and Shaman’s magic. The beautifully carved and painted walls and pillars depicted the king engaging in various kingly feats: smiting enemies, being worshipped by his people, standing alongside the kingdom’s most famous and powerful ancestors. Lined down the hallway, just in front of the pillars, were fully armed guards stood to attention. Anapa’s footsteps echoed loudly as he stepped out onto the glittering quartz tiles – and then immediately sank to the floor in the same style of bow he’d received earlier: hands on the ground, forehead pressed against his hands. He held the position for an agonising few seconds, hoping Tahl was doing the same thing.

A deep, cool voice reverberated around the room. “Rise and approach.”

Anapa stood and moved forward, keeping his eyes politely averted from the figure seated on the throne at the end of the hall. He didn’t need to look to know what he’d see: an ornate quartz chair positioned centrally atop of a raised dais, and occupying it…

Sometimes, Anapa thought he could see a bit of resemblance between himself and King Saif. Perhaps not in the bone structure, or the body shape, or the face shape… or the hair or the eyes… or the hands and feet… but, they had a similar skin tone: dark by Tahl’s standards but pale compared to the other Canids. Saif was tall and slim, like Anapa, but he was built more athletically, while Anapa had the look of someone with two left feet. Saif’s flaming red hair and light hazel eyes were remarkable in Canidia, prompting speculation that he was foreign-born. That speculation was never aired in his presence. By far Saif’s most memorable feature was the hard, withering stare which reduced his subjects to hasty silence. Even Zetena had gone unnaturally quiet.

At the foot of the dais Anapa stopped, keeping his hands neutrally at his side, waiting politely for his father to speak first. Silence hung in the air for a few moments.

“So,” Saif said after a moment, sounding more like an insolate private-school boy than a monarch, “the enigmatic prince returns.”

Anapa stayed silent, processing the choice of adjective with a sense of foreboding.

“What good timing Anapa, as usual.” Saif sat back in his throne, moving out of Anapa’s line of vision. When Anapa started to speak, Saif cut him off almost immediately. “No, be quiet,” he said dismissively, as though bored with his long-lost son already, and stared forcefully at Tahl instead. “And what is this?” His brown-green eyes flicked over Tahl, absorbing every detail. “This is not a Canid.”