Issi shoved her hand behind her back, embarrassed.

          “A Pet?” the maid asked at last.

          “Gadna’s,” the guard answered.

          The maid’s eyes widened a fraction before her jaw set, “I don’t care who sent it, send it away, Tiremalv does not accept—”

          “He asked for me specifically,” Issi interjected, trying again for the lending charter.  The maid snatched it.

          “Forged charters,” she scoffed in disgust, “I don’t have time for this.” The woman shook her head as she ripped the paper down the center and turned to the guard, “I told you, I didn’t want to see any more of them.  They’re vermin, take it home.”

          “I just—”

          Issi watched in dismay as the maid took a step back and moved to shut the door.  She was so close.  He was in there, he had to be.  If the wing really was the twin of her master’s she knew how well the sound travelled within it.

          The conversation was ten steps too far, and twice as quiet as it needed to be…assuming he wasn’t out near the workroom.  Before she could think about what she was doing, she drew air into her lungs.

          “I am the Pet of the Grand Mage, you will not turn me away without letting me do my job,” she shouted.

          The guard jumped, her hand flying to the sword at her hip.

          The maid narrowed her eyes, “So it speaks out of turn.”

          “Push me and you will see that I do more than speak,” Issi continued crisply, “I am tired of the lack of respect I’ve been shown since I got here, y—, our Prince, requested me specifically and I was sent here.  If you have a problem with that take it to your master, not mine.”

          The maid wore an expression that would curdle milk, “Take it back to Gadna.”

          “I am not an it,” she railed dramatically.  She was almost having fun.  After being forced to scurry about and bow, and apologize for existing for most of her life, this was a welcome change.  If it weren’t for the quiet voice in the back of her head insisting that this could only lead to her demise, she might have laughed.

          She continued emphatically speaking absolute nonsense.  Her tongue ran away from her, she might have called the maid a damned fucking twit, but she’d lost track of the conversation and the guard was doubled on the floor guffawing too hard to grab and drag her away.

          It had to have been ticks.  Issi was losing hope, maybe he wasn’t there, and she’d have to draw her luck thin hoping to hide the Grand Mage’s absence and her own as she sought him out in the kitchens some other day.

          “Perenne,” the prince’s voice was thick with annoyance, “What’s the matter and why—?” he drew to an abrupt halt.  Amusement sparked across the remnants of Ardein’s face, “Well, this looks fun.”

          The guard tried to gather herself, her laughter scattered between deep gasping breaths.

          The prince smiled, “Hello, Issi.”