CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gareth stood there, in his father’s ruling chamber, looking out through the open window over King’s Court, like his father used to love to do. His father used to stroll out, onto the parapets, but Gareth felt no need to do that. He was perfectly happy, standing here, indoors, at the edge of the window, hands clasped loosely behind his back, and looking out over his people from the shadows.
His people. They were his people now.
He stood there, rooted in place, the crown securely on his head, as it had been since the ceremony. He would not take it off. He also wore his father’s white and black mantle, even in the summer heat, and clutched in his hand his father’s long, golden scepter. He was beginning to feel like a king—a real king—and he loved the feeling. All his subje
