Exploitable Weaknesses Brian Keller (e reader pdf best TXT) 📖

noted that the sconces extended the lanterns more than a foot away from the columns where they were attached, “The smoke from the lanterns won’t dis-color the stonework. Less time spent scrubbing means the staff can be doing other worthwhile things, I suppose.” She wondered whether these choices could be credited to the Prince, “He has other things to concern himself with. Doubtless, he has someone to manage the mundane chores such as selecting décor.” She noticed that the table was actually several tables assembled to form a single square structure. It could comfortably seat six or seven people on a side, but each side held only four chairs. As she glanced around she couldn’t fail but notice, “There’s no ‘throne’. No chair that looks like it’s been set apart.” She had expected that there would be a chair that was undoubtedly ‘his’, but she saw nothing to indicate which one. She looked around the table. There was a goblet for each chair, and though somewhat ornate, there was nothing that would separate one from another. She was still examining goblets when the doors to the chamber were abruptly pulled open. The man who strode into the room entered alone. He was wrapped in a robe and was still tying the cord. By all appearances he might not be wearing anything underneath besides night clothes. She caught a glimpse of thin, light blue cotton trousers below the hem of the robe, extending over his boots. His hair wasn’t quite brown or blond, but somewhere in between, and it would be shoulder length if it weren’t tied back behind his head. His gaze immediately focused on her,”Yoren has been killed?” She drew back from the table and unconsciously smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes, “Yes, Sire.” The Prince cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, “Ahem. ‘Sire’ is my father. I have sired no one. In fact, I have avoided and evaded every attempt by my father to force me into matrimony. I’m not sure who hates me more for it, my father or my brother. My brother accepted the bride arranged by my father and has been miserable ever since.” Iona was stunned by the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, and by his candor, “Well, you’re certainly more than a Lord, your Highness.” He shook his head, “Highness? I’m no taller than any other man. In fact, I’d say I’m shorter than many. Let’s settle this. What I am is your Prince and your Liege. For the sake of propriety, pick one and let’s move this conversation along. My Spymaster is dead. Tell me how it happened.” She followed the corporal’s advice and glossed over details that might be considered ‘inconsequential’. The Prince let her finish her report without interruption, then proceeded to ask succinct questions that revealed many of those details. When they’d finished, he knew almost as much about Cooper as she did, and he undoubtedly understood her feelings regarding her former professor. He pointed to her hand, “That would be the message?” She nodded, “Yes, my Prince.” He tilted his head to one side as he examined it from a distance, “Well then, read it. I’ll not touch that, and you already have.” He paused, then ordered, “Wait.” He turned and walked to the doors, pulling them open. He spoke a few words to the guards outside, closed the doors and returned. He explained, “They’re fetching some gloves. I doubt the Guild would do something so obvious as to fill that tube with poison, but I also don’t doubt that they hold me responsible for the destruction of their headquarters, at least to some degree.”

She felt uncomfortable in the silence that followed, but despite his demeanor she didn’t know how to maintain the conversation. She certainly couldn’t just start asking him questions. He must have noticed her discomfort, since when he spoke again the glint in his eye suggested he was rescuing her by filling the silence more than actually engaging in conversation, “How long have you lived here in the Palace? A year, or a little less?” Iona looked at the floor, “Perhaps a year, my Prince. Time passes…differently, here.” He smiled as he pulled the nearest chair away from the table and seated himself. He gestured that she should do the same. Her mind flashed with the thought that the gentlemen of high society usually seated the lady first, but the thought left her mind as quickly as it entered, she was not a ‘lady’ and he was no mere ‘society gent’. He quietly smiled as she seated herself as he continued, “I would assume that you find life in the Palace preferable to that of the University. Am I correct, or do you miss University life? Living among your friends and peers?” Her embarrassment increased as she replied, “I prefer it here, my Prince. The University holds neither friends nor peers but if I were to be forthright, I suppose the same could be said of the Palace.” He nodded, as if she had said something profound. He then added, “You’ve lived here for a little less than a year. You’ve been... ‘apprenticed’ to Yoren during that time, would that be a fair assessment?” Her eyes remained downcast, “No, my Prince. I know almost nothing of the Spymaster’s craft.” Prince Lancaster smiled wryly, “I believe that’s a trait shared by most of us, including the recently deceased, if I’m to be honest.” This shocked Iona into meeting his gaze, “Sir- Sire– My Liege?” She resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “Relax. I’m not a monster to be feared, or at least I think I’m not. To clarify, Yoren was very capable about drawing conclusions from scraps of information, but one need not be a Spymaster to do that. One need only be intelligent… insightful. A Spymaster needs to be adept at obtaining information; learning those things that others wish