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sight. When every noble in the room mirrored the guards’ retreat, the ridiculous panorama of forty obsequiously bobbing backs nearly erased Varene’s apprehension.
    Nearly.
    As the double doors behind her slammed closed, she realized she was alone with the Sultan of Kad. A sultan whose eyes glittered ominously.
    “Come here.”
    She held defiantly still, but the man commanding her was a monarch and she was not. Despite her high title, she wasn’t even a blooded noble. In Teganne, that hadn’t mattered. Here…
    She moved reluctantly toward him, traversing each foot of the long room as if approaching her grave, but her spine was ramrod-straight and her chin high. She’d earned her position through dedication and excellence—more than was true for some of those born to rule!
    He said nothing as she approached, just crossed his gold-banded arms and brazenly took her measure, from her bedraggled ponytail and glistening brow, down her long, wrinkled gown to her scuffed silk slippers.
    She halted several feet from the dais under his fierce appraisal, and soon became all too aware that she’d neither bowed nor curtseyed to him. Doing so now seemed… a bit belated.
    Besides, what she really wanted to do was punch him.
    She took a deep breath, wishing it were possible to start over and hold her temper. “I’m sorry. I only meant—”
    “I do not recall giving you permission to speak.”
    Her teeth snapped shut with an audible, insolent click. How dare he? She was here to save his family. One of her eyebrows rose to her hairline and several choice invectives seethed on her tongue.
    “So,” he drawled. “ You are the Royal Healer of Teganne.”
    How she hated the way he said “you”—as though she were far less than he expected! She clenched her jaws so tightly she thought her teeth would grind to dust. After all, he hadn’t given her permission to speak.
    “Yes,” he said, inclining his head gravely. “You should now answer.”
    An enraged rush of breath shot out of her. “I’m the Royal Healer you sought, yes.”
    “What is your name?”
    “Varene na Seryn. Of Teganne .” Where no one in the royal court would treat a visiting Healer in such a scornful manner!
    He narrowed his eyes. “Well, Varene na Seryn of Teganne . By presuming to command me —in this very throne room and in front of the highest-ranked nobles in Kad—you gave me and my entire realm flagrant insult.” His nostrils flared. “Far worse, your loose tongue has confirmed for those nobles what had only been rumor before: that there is a grave illness among the Ruling Family. My family.” He stepped off the dais, looming over her. “You’ve handed them a weapon: the knowledge that my throne may soon be vacant for the hyenas to battle over!”
    Her jaw slackened. None of that had been her intention. She recalled now that Gunjan had asked her to keep things quiet, but the “welcome” she’d been given had been far beyond the pale.
    “So, traveler.” His face, now only inches from hers, radiated displeasure. She fought the urge to recoil. “You may be the Royal Healer of Teganne. You may be the friend and privileged servant of that shivering hare, Prince Alvarr. But in my palace,” he said, eyes flashing, “in my realm, the holy birthplace and land blessed of gods, you will treat ME with respect. Is that clear?”
    Ire surged through her blood. Undeniably, it had been a mistake to loosen her tongue. Discretion was crucial in her profession as well as in royal courts. But after the attack she’d faced for doing the man a favor, his hubris was unbelievable. “Certainly,” she ground out. “And how, exactly, would you like me to address you?” Arrogant Ass?
    A caustic smile curled his lips. “‘O Lord’ is proper, as is ‘Great Sultan’.”
    “I see.” She waited two eons-long heartbeats before she continued. “O Lord.” The words caught like chalk in her throat.
    No doubt he’d noticed the delay. She would bet those