Book 3: Parley

Hollis

Father and I march in lockstep up to the small door beside the front gates. Early morning sunlight promises spring might actually arrive in the mountains someday soon, as soft and sweet as waking up to Candace slipping back into the room with a sheepish smile on her face.

Low conversation and clattering from the far side of the wall make it impossible to forget what we’re walking into, though. Why we’re using a side door instead of the main one. Why Father’s heavy, furred coronation robe flaps from his shoulders and why I’m wearing the circlet of silver that represents my station.

On the other side of this wall is war.

A soldier lifts the miniature portcullis over the side door with a rattling wheel.

“Drop this behind us,” Father declares.

“Your Majesty?” the soldier asks.

I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. “We cannot leave punctures in our defenses. King Andri and I can hold our own long enough to reopen it, i