The Proper Form of Address

Chapter 11

The caravans returned with enormous mahogany chests that filled the antechamber, gleaming as if the exotic heavy sunshine of Jadenvale had been burnished into their wood.

"Begging your pardon, Excellence," said one of the caravan managers, bowing low, "but the only Prince seems to be a bit of a clothes horse. Those Jadenvalians, eh?"

Bennet frowned. "He's our Prince now. He isn't to be mocked for his preferences."

The smile faded off of the caravan manager's face. "R-right. Yes. Begging your pardon, Excellence." He bowed even lower to try to make up for it.

"Why wouldn't you grant him passage?" Bennet asked, still frowning.

The man did not rise from his low bow. "Begging your pardon, Excellence?"

"He says that he requested passage with one of your caravans and was denied."

"Well. Begging your pardon, Excellence." The man didn't rise from his bow but snuck a glance up at Bennet. "When an uppity Jadenvalian starts flinging money around, all holier-than-thou, and ordering you to—"

"He was a guest of our kingdom," Bennet said coldly.

"Begging your pardon, Excellence, we didn't know he was the Prince—"

"Which makes it worse," Bennet interrupted harshly. "He was someone who wished to see Euphonian, and you insulted him badly. What good does it do Euphonia if our eager and willing visitors have as their first impression such poor treatment?"

"Er," said the manager, clearly at a loss.

"Your license is revoked."

The man popped up from his bow, looking flustered. "Excellence! Surely you—"

Bennet lifted a finger toward Roger, who lifted a finger toward the guards, who saw the manager escorted out. Then Bennet turned to Roger. "Have these chests delivered to the Prince. I don't want a single thing out of place."

Roger bowed his head and murmured, "Begging your pardon, Excellence, but to which bedchamber shall I deliver them?"

Which gave Bennet pause. It hadn't even occurred to him that Archer should leave his bedchamber. Obviously Archer was going to stay there.

Bennet pushed a hand through his hair and decided not to analyze it when he said, "Mine." He was the king. Surely he would be unthinkingly obeyed.