The Thief King

11 | Uncouth Questions

Logan's hand scratched behind Barrett's ears out of habit. The hound pressed against Logan's leg and moaned with pleasure. Barrett's weakness was his ears. A good rub or scratch under their soft floppy skin and he would melt at anyone's feet.

Barrett let out a particularly loud sigh, placing his large head on Logan's lap. Logan barely noticed. Months he had spent reading reports, ledgers and manifestos with no result, and finally he was on to something. For whatever reason, all his father's advisors and bookkeepers had remained tight-lipped about the matter. Pressing them was useless, all that ensured was his father putting a stop to his research. No, Logan wanted to know all the facts before approaching a plan and pursuing it.

The account he was reading was a financial one. A large order of medicinal ingredients had disappeared before reaching the healing houses. Having not seen the wares, Lethilian had refused to pay for them, angering the suppliers. The accounts Logan read contained the order placement and missing ticks on a list of items received.

Barrett whined and pressed his cold nose into Logan's hand.

"We just went for a walk, boy." Logan patted the dog's shoulder.

Barrett ambled to the door, then sat and stared at the wood filigree as if it entertained his canine senses.

"What is it, boy? You cannot possibly need another walk."

Barrett huffed.

Logan shook his head, stretching his arms over his head. "What is the time? You know Barrett, I may be wrong. Perhaps it is time for another walk. I will have you know that all this"—he indicated his desk and the multitude of parchment spread across its surface— "is riveting stuff. I wish you would give it a chance."

Barrett looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes seeming to disagree.

Logan sighed, rolling up the account. "Sometimes I wonder who is the prince in this relationship, you know. Who serves who?"

As he opened the door, Barrett pushed past and ran. Something was definitely bothering his usually placid hound. Logan shook his head and stared after him. About to retreat back into the library, he noticed the palace guard staring at him.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but you startled me."

Logan smiled, unsure why the guard's stare did not falter. "Is there something the matter?"

The guard cleared his throat. "No, no...uh. It is not my place."

"No, I suppose not." Logan stepped back into his library. Instinct stopped him. Years of watching men and women struggle to find words in front of him had developed in him a natural talent in knowing when there was more not being said. "Is there something on your mind, soldier?

"I—If they come looking for you, Your Highness, shall I send them elsewhere?"

"Send them elsewhere? Gods, why would you do that?"

The guard frowned. "Forgive me, I assumed you were wanting to avoid the whole procession by being here."

"The procession?" Realization dawned on him in rolling waves. "The arrival!" He ran after Barrett, dismissing all notions of propriety, and called out his thanks to the guard as he rounded the corner.

When he reached the palace's great hall, he found Barrett detained by a struggling palace guard. Logan relieved the man, calling Barrett to his side. The hound obeyed, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging furiously.

How he had managed to forget where his hound seemed to have remembered Logan would never know. The idea that Barrett was far more intelligent than Logan gave him credit for resurfaced. He patted the strutting hound at his side, murmuring a thanks.