Tahl had not been trained to navigate the social complexities of royal court and it showed, painfully. The way he walked, the way he stood, his facial expressions – they were all obvious aberrations. Zetana’s glee was radiating behind them like a second sun and Saif was smiling in an obnoxiously condescending manner, as though he’d been presented with a performing monkey. Anapa had never had much occasion before to consider how the court treated commoners – in large part because he’d never seen the court with commoners before. He’d also never really had a friend before. Being thrown back into this old, familiar setting in a new, unprecedented situation was… disturbing. It was like seeing his own life being acted out in theatre with a horrifying script. Except at any minute, the leading actor could just decide to execute the entire audience.

It was especially stark after spending so long on Shaman, which was just so much… gentler. Even with the dragons and the warring gods and the science-aliens.

Tahl spoke, with verbal manners as rough as his physical ones. He may not have had elocution training, but his instincts were infallible. Anapa subtly released a breath he’d been holding since Saif put Tahl on the spot. The word ‘fairy’ didn’t exist in Canidia, making Tahl sound confident and exotic, and bodyguard was an excellent choice of role. It evoked power without any necessity to mimic upper class mannerisms. More importantly, it gave them both a reason to insist on not being separated. Clever move.

What happened next, not so much.

Anapa was so focused on watching Saif that he barely considered the small player, Zetana, sneering somewhere behind them. Tahl must have been acutely aware of his lordship’s uncouth behaviour, because he turned suddenly, spitting a challenge at the courtier. Anapa spun round, forgetting his courtier’s instincts, and felt his jaw slacken as Zetana shrunk before his eyes. He blinked, and where Zetana had been standing was a small, black snake with a white speckled pattern rolling down its back. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then the guards, apparently remembering their jobs, leapt to action. In a split second, the stationary soldiers who had appeared as statues at their posts had formed a tight circle around Anapa, Tahl and the snake, their weapons drawn.

It was all unravelling so fast. The circle was closing, Tahl still had his fist up and there was no telling what he could – or might – do next, and Anapa was well aware that the guards would sooner skewer them both and ask questions later than allow a potential threat to the king. He had a split second to decide what to do. Not that there was really much choice.

Anapa put out both hands authoritatively, trying both to fall back on his royal upbringing and forget the fact that his royal upbringing was sat on a throne behind him.

“Back up,” he said sharply. “My bodyguard has spells from beyond the known nomes.”

He identified the captain of the guard from his uniform and stood his ground, holding his gaze firmly. Inside, Anapa’s heart was pounding loudly and his head was starting to throb. He resisted the urge to rub his temples, knowing it was his outward tell-tale sign that death was imminent. Was one of the guards really considering killing him – or Tahl – or both?

The circle rippled. Anapa held his breath and turned. His father, King Saif, had stepped down from the dais and into the ring, where he was observing the writhing snake with an absence of expression. On Saif, that was the worst type of expression. It meant he was thinking, but he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking about.

Anapa’s head twinged apprehensively.

“Well,” Saif said after a moment, “this isn’t really the manner with which to welcome back the prince and his bodyguard, is it?”

As swiftly as before, the guards lowered their weapons and stepped back in unison.

“Thank you, Tahl, for returning my son to me,” he continued pleasantly, speaking directly to Tahl and completely ignoring Anapa. “Your loyalty to the palace is appreciated, but your vigilance is unnecessary. My security is more than adequate to protect my family.” He studied him for a moment. “You’ll both want to rest after your journey. Anapa’s quarters are untouched,” he glanced briefly at his son with that absence of expression Anapa really didn’t like, “and I have a guest room for Tahl.”

The alarm bell in the back of Anapa’s mind started clanking frantically. The last thing either of them needed right now was to be separated in this literal and psychological maze.

“With respect,” he started, “my – ”

“Anapa,” Saif sighed, “I really have not missed the sound of your voice.”

He said it with the quiet undertone which Anapa understood immediately as a cue to shut up.