Toying carelessly with a whisker Feyald leaned back, “So you are a wizard then?” He slathered almost as much disdain on the word ‘wizard’ as he had on ‘caprine’ earlier.
“Hardly,” I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the contents of my cup, swirling them this way then that, “Traveling in this realm and neighboring ones requires a certain level of…awareness.”
Eyes wide and intent on the increasingly luminescent goo he pressed, “And your awareness can cure my daughter?”
“I may know a trick or two, but…” I let my eyes wander to the barred door and stern faces of the guards before it. The lord of the manner, all pomp and decorous honors, slouched forward, his brow furrowed in thought but eyes still warily on the cup. Halstead rolled his eyes and scratched the stone floor with his hoof, impatient as always.
“Suppose I let you leave?” seemed to force its way from the king’s taught mouth.
Letting the cup be still, I answered, “Sire, I hold no small affection for your daughter. I would be of aid to her.”