CHAPTER FIVE
Rupert stewed as he walked along Ashton’s streets, toward its docks. He should have been riding down the streets to the cries of a loving populace, celebrating his victory. He should have had the common folk cheering his name and throwing flowers. There should have been women along the route eager to throw themselves at him, and young men jealous that they could never be him.
Instead, there were only damp streets and people going about whatever dreary business peasants got up to when they weren’t cheering for their betters.
“Your highness, is everything all right?” Sir Quentin Mires asked. He walked as one of a dozen soldiers who had been chosen to accompany him, probably to make sure that he got to the ship without wandering off. Probably with orders to get Sebastian’s loc
