The next day, George Louis was still mad at him for laughing. David could tell, because at their daily meeting, the duke manoeuvred him right into the arms of Lady Pettau, who was organising a “little soiree to honour the defender of the country."

It was an invitation he would have needed to be exceptionally rude to refuse. He was probably still less than graceful in his acceptance, if Lady Pettau’s pout was anything to go by.

The only person possibly even more angry at him was Grooch, once he broached the subject of bringing Annabelle and Rémy into the palace on halfmoon.

“This halfmoon?” the secretary asked. “As in, next week?”

“Is there a problem? You won’t have to talk to them.”

“Nonono, that’s not the issue at all. But Your Lordship, do you have a room? Did you talk to the Steward? The Master of Ceremonies? Are the kitchens informed?”

“The kitchens?” David asked. “Why would I tell the chefs? It’s only two werewolves, and it’s not like it’ll be full moon.”

“What about refreshments?”

“For two werewolves?”

“For your guests, Your Lordship! Pardon me.” Grooch pushed himself out of his chair and went to sort the mail in his orderly in-trais. The action visibly calmed him down. “You didn’t mean to bring the werewolves here, did you?” he finally asked, then clarified: “Into the office, I mean.”

To be perfectly honest, David hadn’t considered that an issue at all. “What about the Grande Galerie?” he asked.

“Taken,” Grooch said at once.

“Taken. What do you mean, taken?”

“Lord Picot, by going through the proper channels, has claimed the Galerie for that night.” Grooch’s tone was edging on acerbic by now.

“Fine then. How about one of the salons? There’s got to be a hundred of them in the palace. Hell, I’ll happily take the fencing hall. You can’t tell me there isn’t a single room in the palace that’ll fit two werewolves and Prince George that’ll be free that night.”

Grooch spun around. “The Prince? The Prince will be attending?”

The secretary rubbed his face. “Please tell me that’s a joke, Your Lordship.”

“No?” David said slowly. “He’s the whole reason for this?”

“So you mean to tell me, you want to stage an event, attended by Prince George, and I presume by extension Duke Stuard, in the fencing hall?”

“I told you, I don’t care. I don’t know why you’re thinking this is such an issue. The prince wanted to see some werewolves, I’ll bring two werewolves. It’ll be half moon. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

“Of course it’ll be a big deal,” Grooch whimpered. “Your Lordship, any event attended by Duke Stuard—who is about to crown himself king, as you might remember, and also, not to put too fine a point on it, widowed—is, by definition, a ‘big deal’. Add in the prince, and you better expect every mother who has a daughter to marry off to be there! Never mind the refreshments, we’ll need music! A herald!”

That wasn’t at all what David had had in mind. Rémy would probably love to have a party thrown in his honour, but how was Annabelle supposed to meet with her son like this?

“Mr. Grooch, we’re talking about two werewolves here,” he changed tactics. “They’ve both been living outside of ordinary human civilization for more than a decade, have never even come close to the palace. I do not believe it to be a smart idea to overwhelm them with the whole pomp and procedure of what you appear to be envisioning right now.”

Grooch blinked owlishly at him, but nodded. “I see. Of course, Your Lordship. But still—no, especially in that case—you need to have a room reserved, guards to keep out any nosy courtiers, a guestlist. I can only ask you to think very carefully on who else you might allow to attend—if nothing else, staging this on half moon, when he’s booked the Grand Galerie, is sure to snub Marquess Picot. Who did bet heavily on you in the fight against Count deVale.”

“Who manoeuvred me into the fight,” David growled. But then he sighed. In a twisted way, Picot had probably done him a favour—unless he had meant to get him killed.

And given that he still hadn’t caught the traitor, the last thing he wanted was to put Annabelle and Rémy in a room where he couldn’t keep track of everyone coming and going.

Why did everything in the palace have to be so damn complicated?

He didn’t have time for their stupid politics. He already had enough on his hands with organising Rust’s return, for which he had a meeting with the commander of the City Watch in an hour, then another bloody interview afterwards, and in the afternoon, he had to escort their new werewolves who were finally ready to leave their damn cells to a fort outside the city.

And anyway, he was bad at bloody politics.

He held up his hand before Grooch could say anything more. “Fine. You’ve made your point. I’ll have someone deal with Picot. And organise the rest.”

“You will?” Grooch asked. “You will organise it, or have someone else do it? And who?”

“I believe I already mentioned I was going to bring in my brothers to help out?”

Not that George Louis had made any mention that he was finally going to pay them during this morning’s meeting. But maybe Greg could deal with that, too. Or he’d suggest to Nathan to breach the issue with the duke himself. If nothing else, that should be entertaining to watch.

“Ah. May I ask which ones?”

David grinned, possibly with a little more teeth than necessary. “You’ll have the honour of being the first in the palace to meet a free werewolf,” he said. “I’ll send Nathan, too, so don’t worry.”

It was high time Grooch was getting over his worries. It was stupid to have a head secretary for the Office of Werewolf Relations who was scared of werewolves. He’d have raised the issue already, had he had any hope of finding a secretary more eager.

If even Greg couldn’t charm the man, well, maybe it would be time to find someone else.

“I better get going now. I’ll swing by the house and brief them on my way back from meeting Commander Bacrot.”

At least it was on the way.

***

“So let me get this straight,” Nathan asked, on their way through the city. “You want me to stand behind Greg with a loaded crossbow so your secretary will work with him to organise this event? For how long?”

“I don’t want you to stand behind Greg, and I don’t care if you load your crossbow. I want you to be in the same room as Greg and Grooch while I give another damn interview, and then I want you to come along as I escort the werewolves from the cells to Fort Brunich. Tomorrow you can then meet the newest round of convicts, get to know them a bit, so you can take over dealing with them if I have to leave the city for whatever reason.”

Nathan’s face lit up at that, but Greg didn’t feel particularly reassured. “What if this Grooch still doesn’t want to be alone in the room with me once the interview is over?”

“I guess then your first job will be finding us a new assistant,” David shrugged.

“Haven’t you worked with this Grooch ever since Oldstone Castle?”

“I have,” David confirmed. “And he’s a good secretary, but if he can’t work with you, how is he supposed to be of help in the future? I’ll be bringing in more werewolves, not less.”

Greg nodded slowly. He almost wished David hadn’t told him about Grooch’s reservations. If he hadn’t known, he would have looked forward to helping out.

“But I’ll be working at the palace for now?” Greg asked.

“Unless you want to go back into the mountains?” David asked. “Pierre is certain that Edith is still alive, and that she’s somewhere to the north, but that’s all he could tell me yesterday. So I’m thinking about sending another envoy into the Argentum Formation, west and south, probably.”

Greg shuddered. “I’d rather not.”

“I figured,” David said. “And mother will kill me if I make you go, anyways. I was thinking Dale, once he’s back.”

“Dale’s an elder,” Nathan objected. “Don’t you think that’s overkill?”

“After they tried to rip out Greg’s throat?” David leaned back in his seat, grimaced. “I figured, Dale being an elder, he’d be safe from attacks like that. And it might look good, given that he has children, you know? If I give him a ‘safe’ job.”

“Only if you tell him that’s why you’re sending him,” Greg pointed out.

“Thank you, I sort of figured that out myself.”

“What about payment?” Greg asked. “It’s not exactly great fun to run that far, even in the summer.”

David sighed. “You’re welcome to come along when I try and wrangle more of a budget out of George Louis.”

“Depends on how that ‘wrangling’ is going to look like.”

Nathan snorted with laughter.

“Aren’t you hilarious today,” David said drily.

“What’s the budget for half moon?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know,” David sighed. “Figure something out with Grooch, but slow him down a bit, will you? When I first brought up the matter, he wanted to throw them a whole ball, or something.”

“Rémy would love that. Pierre won’t say it, but I bet he’d love that, too. And you could use the excitement to cover up the time when Annabelle talks to the prince.”

“Not you, too.” David’s head fell back against the walls of the coach so hard there was an audible thump. “No, you know what? Whatever. Do what you think is best. If you can get it organised, I’ll back it. But I don’t want to have to do more than sign the papers.”

He sighed. “Here we are.”

They had indeed reached the palace, but David remained seated, head still resting against the wall of the coach, until Antonio, the driver, came walking around to open the door. Greg watched with some concern as David straightened up a second before he did, and managed a mostly believable smile. He climbed out of the coach and marched straight past the journalists outside as if he could neither see nor hear them clamouring his name.

“Think you can help out here?” Nathan whispered to Greg as they followed more slowly. “He sure looks like he needs a hand.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Nathan patted him on the shoulder. “Better you than me.”

As they were about to enter the palace proper, Greg hesitated.

How many times had he walked through those ornate, wide open doors? Often enough that he hadn’t even noticed the splendour anymore, the imposing facade, the overwhelming riches all around. The effect did hit him now, no doubt just as the architect intended. He felt small, climbing the steps and looking up at the columns flanking the entrance, vulnerable. Even with Nathan at his side, he slowed down when the guards stared past him.

Not that they really looked at him. Not while David was right in front of him and Nathan at his side. They probably just assumed he was the last Feleke. He resented that, too. It used to be the other way around. He used to be a regular at the palace. People used to know him, to greet him with a smile. David used to be the one they glared at, the outsider.

But he was here to work. To help. So as they crossed the entrance hall, lined with statues and more guards and filled with petitioners, he tried to keep his head up, to walk like he belonged here still. And who knew? Maybe, one day, it wouldn’t be so scary, to have a werewolf walk these halls.

David’s office was smaller than Greg had expected, given all the responsibility the duke had piled up on his shoulders. There wasn’t even an anteroom to make visitors wait in. Just two desks—one quite a bit nicer than the other. Against the smaller one leaned a man with greying hair in grey robes.

“Mr. Grooch,” David introduced the man. “My brothers, Nathan and Gregory Feleke.”

Greg offered his hand, mostly to see how the scribe would react. Given what David had said about him, it surprised Greg when Grooch did nervously reach out. His fingers were inkstained and his grip clammy, but he did shake Greg’s hand.

That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“Well met,” Nathan said, offering his hand as well.

“Why don’t you introduce my brothers to your underling,” David said with forced cheerfulness. “I believe the reporter should be here any minute for the interview.”

“Underlings?” Greg asked as Grooch ushered them through the side door. The room behind was equally small, and home to another couple of desks.

Both of them were deserted.

“Mr. Howell will be bringing up the reporter,” Grooch explained. “And we do not currently have a second undersecretary. Not since His Lordship has stretched our budget to include the monthly bonus for the werewolves.”

That was very typically David. Grooch didn’t comment on it, but it was clear that he would have preferred the second secretary.

“It looks like you would have enough work for two more,” Greg commented, pointing at the papers on the desks.

“Easily. The bloody paper money alone is a pain to implement. I do believe His Lordship has spoken to Duke Stuard on the issue, but so far, no solution has been forthcoming.”

“So I take it the budget for half moon is going to be another issue?” Greg rubbed his hands together, not quite able to hide his excitement. “Could you call us a messenger?”

“Of course,” Grooch said and went to draw one of the strings that would ring a bell in another room. “But what good will that do?”

Greg smiled at him. A moment later, one of the boys running messages through the hallway knocked on the door. Grooch opened it, then beckoned at Greg.

“Please run to His Highness, Duke Desmarais’s office, and inquire if he would be available to see the Honourable Feleke this afternoon,” Greg said. It was rather informal to send a verbal request rather than a written missive, but he thought David probably would have done it the same way.

“I quite believe his Lordship is busy today,” Grooch sniffed, once the door closed.

“Which is why I didn’t specify which Feleke.”

“You—you want to talk to His Highness? He will never…”

“Duke Desmarais is no coward. I was a guest of his months before the High Inquisitor was run out of the city. I’m quite confident he’ll talk to me.”

“To what end, though, if I may ask?”

“Two dukes are better than one,” Greg shrugged. “If Duke Stuard hasn’t had time to review the budget issue, perhaps Duke Desmarais will be more helpful. If he isn’t, we’ll have to involve Marquess Picot, but I’d prefer not to do that.”

“Marquess Picot?”

“You don’t think that if we tell him what we want to stage in direct competition to his own happening, he might be amenable for a collaboration? In the meantime, may I see what money is allocated to my brother?”

Grooch ran his ink stained hands through his hair, and then he smiled a surprisingly wide smile. “You do know how the palace works. I’ll pull the ledgers right quick.”