[i][h2][color=MediumSeaGreen]Lora Kadar[/color][/h2]
[/i]

Lora directed the Prince towards the inn with a bounce in her step. She had found the boy’s mother, spoken directly to the Prince and been spoken back to, been remembered from her brief time in Barcea, and been invited along for at least a portion of his adventures. And now he was following her direction, listening to her suggestions—the day could simply not get any better. 

It could always, however, get much worse. 

They were just passing the bread shop and listening to Cyril when he cut off at the sound of yelling, and the few moments that followed were those of an intentionally poor comedic play. The group turned in slow motion, hair flying and eyebrows furrowing to find two travelers speeding towards them far too quickly. The woman flung off to the side while the man hit home in the way of the Prince, taking him down and tumbling across the street. Both men and Lora let out a squawk of surprise, Lora’s hands clapping over her mouth. Before she could think to ask if he was okay, the Prince stood and surveyed his impromptu gymnastics partner. He didn’t seem to like him, but he also didn’t seem angry that the man had fumbled the landing. 

One of the Sentinels, however, (perhaps their coach?) seemed very disgruntled with the failed routine. He grabbed the man off the ground and held him from his horse (an impressive feat, but else what was to be expected of the Prince’s trainer?) and demanded answers. The man’s hands flew to his neck and Lora caught the swing of his sword at the lift in his jacket, and she gasped once more. 

Their saviors had not disappeared at all, merely vanished in the moment to recuperate at the inn. She turned from the conversation and the hanging man to the woman who stood watching, and the shocked panic from the collision jumped into excitement. She would remember those eyes anywhere, even lighter and (if possible) more disgusted than they had been with her. The man’s height and weapon of choice were undeniable as well, and the smell they carried with them was the same on the wind of the fight yesterday.

The Prince spoke and Cade and Vesta joined them, jumping into the conversation before Lora could deliver the good news. She stepped closer to the Prince and waited, bouncing gently on her feet and trying to contain herself. She was wrong—the day [i]could[/i] get better. They had just found exactly who the Prince wanted to, and Cade was even going to let her be the one to say it. But there was another roadblock in the form of a new man they seemed familiar with, and Lora wished for once her parents had not been important, that no one had cared what she said in front of anyone—that she had been raised to be as rude as she pleased. Of course, she hadn’t, so she held her tongue and waited for her opening. Someday she wouldn’t care about niceties and politeness, but that would be a day without the Prince of Barcea on the other end of her address.

The new addition to the group spoke to the hanging man first, going on about nonsense. And then he spun and made some odd movements, and suddenly they had even more company in the way of a gigantic centipede. He rushed at the newcomer and seemed to maul him, but before Lora could yell for help, the man pushed him aside and stood. He took off and shook out his robe and reprimanded the beast, who seemed to care for only a few moments before it turned away. It felt out Cade and her best assumption that he was some sort of pet was made as the man continued to speak to it in a rather fatherly fashion. It moved on quickly to the hanging man and then to the girl, whom it circled and watched carefully. Lora wondered if it was going to eat her. 

The man stepped forward and introduced himself—Drosil—and his pet—Sir Mauls—and directed his attention to those they had caught. This, while all entertaining, only served to add to Lora’s heightening irritation. If he would just be quiet, she could tell all of them just who their current captives were. And then he was, for a brief moment, and Lora whirled towards her Prince—only to be cut off by furious shouting by her personal angel. Before anyone else could answer Drosil jumped in and began a lengthy explanation of his pet, something that might have intrigued Lora in any situation other than their current one. Maybe she would ask him to repeat it later. 

For now though, she had had it. This was simply irrelevant to the subject at hand, and perhaps it wouldn’t seem so rude to speak up, perhaps it would actually be ruder to stay silent and keep the Prince in the dark any longer. “Your Majesty,” Lora started, bowing her head but speaking rather loudly to be heard over the commotion, “these are the two who saved the village yesterday. That woman is the one who saved my life, and that man fought off the H’kelans with her.” She smiled at him, turning to look at the angels. “I’m sure this is them, without a doubt.”