“Wait—it’s scheduled on Hardegon? This soon?” Malakai howled, forcing one of his vizier’s to cover her ears.

“Sir, if it’s really that big of a problem, why don’t you calm down with a nice, hot bath in the Hot Springs?”

“Of Mercury? Oh, Twila, you idiot cat, I can’t make that trip! Besides, the water makes me shed.”

“Well, then…well, how else are you going to cool down?” she cried, exasperated.

He snarled. “Just get me Phalax!”

She rushed out of the room in a huff, nearly screaming Phalax’s name.

Several minutes later, a huge, golden Pawradin clad in amber armor trudged in through the door. “Lord?” he asked, his voice purring deep in his chest.

“Look, this Shawna, you know her? Well, it…I wish to see that her scheduled fiancee be killed. The night before the Hardegon Festival.”

“And your involvement in this is where?” Phalax purred. He was the only one who ever dared to talk back—he was too valuable a captain.

“Does it matter?” Malakai roared.

Phalax bowed out.