19
“Enter.”
Captain Harkell, immaculately turned out, walked out of the early morning sunlight into the relative gloom of the prince’s tent and bowed, hand on heart. No one watching him could have told that his heart was thumping within his chest or that every nerve was on edge. He straightened up and waited for the game of cat and mouse to begin.
Prince Jarand was seated on a heavy, ornately carved chair that would have required significant effort to transport for his use. His cold grey eyes surveyed the captain from head to foot, as though searching for any slight fault in his presentation. Slowly he brought his eyes up to meet Harkell’s and stared at him for a full minute before speaking.
“Captain Harkell, I believe you owe me your life. Had I followed my brother’s inclination, you
