Mercedes Lackey - Four and Twenty Blackbirds

The Priest chuckled as well, and removed his hands. "Now the Duke will have to make sure he has a Haspur in residence at the palace from now on, or the people will never be happy! There," he finished. "Now you'll sleep."

Tal yawned. "You're right—about—that—"

He fell into slumber, only to be awakened by someone shaking him—carefully.

"Wha—" he muttered, peering up at a lantern held in one of Kayne's hands. The other hand was shaking him.

"I hate to do this to you, Rufen, but Ardis needs you," Kayne said apologetically. "There's been a murder—not in Kingsford, but outside it. This one is going to require more than Fenris can supply. One of Arden's Sires was found in his locked study with a knife in his back, and the Duke has especially asked for you and Ardis to come look into it."

Another murder under mysterious circumstances? So soon?

And the Duke asked for us?

Now he knew what an old war-horse felt like when he heard the trumpets calling the troops to battle. Energy surged into him, and excitement galvanized him; he was wide awake, and even if his shoulder had still been in poor shape, nothing would have kept him from Ardis's side at that moment. He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his tunic.

The excitement and anticipation he felt at that moment told him something he had not really known consciously.

Maybe it isn't Ardis that attracted me, it was the job and the challenge, and the chance to share both with a clever, swift-thinking colleague. I think—this situation isn't something I'd ever considered, and maybe that's what made me read things into it that weren't there. Ardis is a law unto herself. But I have a friend in her, a real friend, the first one I've ever had. Maybe it's love of a kind, but it might not be the romantic kind, and not the sort that needs anything physical to seal it. And anyway, that's clearly how she feels. That's hardly bad.

He was old enough and wise enough to take what he was given and be pleased with it. He wasn't going to pine away and die because Ardis wasn't in love with him, and she wasn't going to run off with him like some daft young idiot in a play. He would always envy people who had romantic love, the kind the Bards made songs about. But that kind of love was not for the High Bishop of Kingsford, and especially not with her Special Inquisitor.

Partners. That's all I can be to her, and that is not bad at all. Two hounds in double-harness, that's us, sniffing out the scent. Even if that's all it is, it's the best thing I've ever had.

He had a place where he was needed, the job he was best suited to, and people who valued him. And right now his harness-partner was howling for him!

And what would the High Bishop of Kingsford have said if she knew he was comparing her to a dog?

She'd probably laugh and say that more than one man has compared her to a prize bitch. Then she'd point out that Justiciars are always called the Hounds of God and ask when I was planning on taking Orders, that's what she'd do.

Kayne would have been shocked if he laughed, given the gravity of the situation—but he whistled all the way to Ardis's study.

There was work to do, the work he'd been born to do, and in the end, that work was more important to him than anything else. The game was afoot, and his life was better now than he ever would have believed possible. He was ready. A wrong had been done, the Hounds had been called, and once again the hunt was on!