"She, ah." The taller guard cleared his throat. "She asked for room service."
"At this hour?"
"She asked for a cheese board, a bottle of wine, a silk robe in 'champagne, exclusively,' new pillows because the existing ones were, and I am quoting directly, 'an insult to anyone with a cervical spine,' and a notary."
Gav blinked. "A notary."
"A notary, sir. She was very specific. She said she needed one for 'documents of a binding nature' and that if Drakenfell's legal system was as backwards as its pillow selection, she would draft the terms herself."
The shorter guard added, "She also asked us to rate her outfit. From one to ten. I gave her a seven. She hasn't spoken to me since."
Gav stared at both of them.
"What did you give her?" he asked the taller one.
"Nine. I panicked."
Gav pushed the door open.
