The Hounds of Winter were a proud tradition of the Little Kingdom; a long line of noble knights who kept the citizens safe from all intruders. Their unblemished reputation was backed by several hundred years of peace, and no one dared besmirch their honor.
Of course Little Kingdom was a) much too little to be worth conquering, and B) tucked into an easily defended mountain range, but Theran had learned long ago that keeping his opinions to himself. It made his job easier, and as he kept ending up with the worst assignments possible, easier was good. But easier took a backseat to honesty, especially where children were concerned.
The girl’s eyes narrowed, “But you’re a Hound, you have to help me.”
Theran mustered up as much disdainful disinterest as he could fit into a look (which was quite a lot, thanks to one disastrous court assignment) and shrugged.
“You. Will. Help. Me.” The girl crossed her arms and glared. “NOW.”
“Nope.” He returned to eating dinner, blatantly ignoring the teenager.
It was a little harder to ignore her when she turned his mashed potatoes into a turtle. Well, turtle-shaped mashed potatoes. Moving turtle-shaped mashed potatoes. He sighed and pushed back from the table.
“Fine, what is it? Did you lose a favorite piece of jewelry? Break a pot you need mended? No wait, don’t tell me, you need help winning your true love free from an evil wizard.”
She frowned, “He has my dog, not my boyfriend.”