She was, apparently, without even a reasonable instinct for fear. Midz-Aset watched her looking around, her eyes sparkling with torchlight reflecting from his vast and precious hoard. When she was closer than a living human had been to him in centuries, he whispered, “Why do you disturb my slumber, child?”
She was still conspicuously unconcerned. “I am Irie, daughter of the King.”
“The Crown Princess? Such a well-bred snack. But why have you come here?”
“Curiosity. My father fears you.”
Midz-Aset grinned. “He would be fool not to.”
“I do not fear you.” She reached out slowly, touched his nose.