The Forgotten Way (Champions of the Crystal Book 6)

Chapter 3.4

It was a fine, clear day in Bathir, unusual at this time of year, when even the desert areas of the province could expect almost daily spurts of rain. Sabrina was grateful for the weather as she landed her little runabout in the reserved section of the palace's modest receiving lot. Although the palace was technically the seat of the principality government, in practice most of the administrative work happened in the nearby capital city. Ford was famously uninterested in the details of running the principality, which suited most of his constituents just fine, since they had become accustomed to running it themselves over the centuries that the principality had defaulted to the Praxatillian crown. Yet certain formalities still existed. Sabrina had rarely experienced any of them, since her relationship with Ford was familial, so she was surprised to be met at the palace's main entrance by Ford's personal assistant and conducted with all due ceremony to a waiting room.

"His royal highness will be with you shortly," the assistant said, with very little conviction, as he left.

Oh, brother, Sabrina thought. Ford was obviously more annoyed with her than she had expected if he was giving her the bureaucratic treatment. She was beginning to wish she had dressed for the occasion; her casual pantsuit was definitely out of place in the ornate waiting room. But then, it was no doubt designed to intimidate, she reminded herself.

Ford might have been born into the highest social rank, but Sabrina had learned their manners the hard way, and she wasn't going to let him run roughshod over her on diplomatic matters. This is my turf, she thought. We have serious work to do, and I'm not going to let any princely tantrums interfere with it.

A shout from outside led her to the window, where she looked down on a hoopball game in the courtyard. She looked for Ford among the players; it would be just like him to have her wait while he finished a game. Righteous indignation began to edge into anger as she imagined him plotting ways to make her job more difficult before they even left the planet.

"There you are!"

Sabrina jumped, startled, and turned to find Ford in the inner doorway. "Don't just stand there," he continued. "Come in here and be useful."

"I thought perhaps I might have to wait a while," she said mildly, following him into his office. It was strewn with papers and showed every sign of being inhabited by a college fraternity. Or, possibly, wild animals, Sabrina thought, clearing some boxes off a nearby chair so she could sit. Then she recalled her protocol and stood again.

"What are you doing?" Ford demanded, puzzled. "Sit. You made this mess, and I'm damned if I can sort it out." He thrust a pad at her.

"What is it?" Sabrina said, scrolling through the document. "My High Praxatillian isn't all that great."

"You wrote it. Well, some of it. The Assembly based the principality constitution on your outline. Now they want to quibble over some of the particulars, and I can't make any sense of their complaints. Normally I would just pass it back to them, but my Steward insists that I need to demonstrate some interest in government affairs."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "Hence your summons?"

"More like a desperate plea for help. Why, did you think I was going all royal on you?"

"It came across that way, yes."

"That's what I get for delegating," Ford said. "Sabrina, make this go away. It's your fault. You're the one who got everybody to write down the way things work in the first place. Until then we had a nice little traditional structure—"

"That was rife with opportunities for abuse," Sabrina said. "I'm not going to apologize for stamping out the last vestiges of feudalism in your principality, Ford, so stop whining. What is it that—oh. Yes. No, you're not going to like this."