“I thought you needed time to think about it.”
“I’m doing it for Mojag.”
“He might never forgive you.”
“I know, but if I do my very best as the prince, then maybe in the future I can forgive myself.”
“All right.” She led him to one of the empty guest suites. “There’s a water closet you can use. They just fixed the pipes.”
He nodded. And Shyla took note of his bedraggled clothing. That wouldn’t do for a prince. She flagged down one of the staff—they were no longer called servants—and asked about clean clothes for Jayden. The young woman said she knew just the thing and dashed off.
By the time Jayden had shaved and scrubbed the grime from his body, the lady returned with a red tunic and black pants made from expensive silk. The pants were a little big, but overall the clothing fit well.
“They were the prince’s,” she said before leaving.
Jayden and Shyla glanced at each other.
“That’s a very good sign,” Shyla said.
He laughed. “Since when do you believe in signs?”
“Since I survived an explosion. Come on.”
They reached Hanif’s temporary office, which had been the prince’s main place to do business. Two piles of rubble framed the entrance, which was just big enough for one person to cross. Jayden paused, peering at them.
“This is nothing in comparison to the rest,” she said. “No one died here.”
He smoothed his tunic. “Two hundred and sixty-four.”
“They should never be forgotten.”
“They won’t be.”
Inside the room an angry male voice rose. “Which iswhywe can’t leave the running ofourcity in the hands of an amateur.”
“That’s my cue.” Jayden straightened his shoulders and entered the room. “I can assure you the city won’t be run by an amateur,” he said.
Shyla slipped in. About twenty unhappy people sat around the large conference table. Hanif sat on the far end—literally cross-legged on the tabletop with a serene expression on his face, which no doubt infuriated the elders. Rendor stood along the wall with a couple armed protectors. Something about his posture worried Shyla. Did he think these people would riot?
“Who in the seven hells are you?” the same querulous voice asked.
“I am the new Water Prince.”
Jayden’s declaration caused an immediate reaction. And, for a moment, Shyla thought being in the middle of a cave-in was quieter. Hanif grinned at Shyla and left the room, leaving Jayden in charge. Shyla stood next to Rendor in case Jayden used magic to defuse the situation.
However, using the skills he learned over the years with the communes and the Invisible Sword, the Vagrant Prince transformed into the Water Prince. Hanif was bound to gloat the next time they were together. While Jayden took control of the meeting, Shyla scanned the “guests” with her magic. No one saidshecouldn’t.
Anger, confusion, frustration, greed, and disbelief rolled through them, but nothing dangerous. At least, not yet. Jayden would have to watch his back. Two faces seemed familiar—a young man and his father, their resemblance unmistakable. When the young man glanced at Rendor for the third time, she remembered.
Hastin! Rendor’s older brother. No wonder Rendor was so tense. She laced her fingers with his and gave him an encouraging squeeze. He glanced at her and then visibly relaxed before giving her a squeeze back and releasing her hand. She wasn’t offended—she knew he needed to be ready just in case violence broke out. It didn’t, but a number of poisonous looks were aimed at Jayden as the elders left. Rendor and his men escorted them out.
“You still have a long way to go,” she said to Jayden.
“No kidding.” He looked at her as if in pain. “Are you going to take my magic now?”
“No. I think that should be done in front of everyone.”
Alarmed, he asked, “The entire city?”