Taking a deep breath for courage, he lifted the cowl on his royal dark blue and gold robes so that it covered his head and shielded his face, then headed for the doors.

The moment they swung open, every eye in the room turned toward him. Wanting to run for shelter, Darling raised his chin and let the rank and mantle of noblesse oblige settle firmly on his shoulders.

This was what he’d been bred and trained for.

And as he stood there, he heard his father’s voice in his head. “The past is history written in stone that can’t be altered. The future is transitory and never guaranteed. Today is the only thing you can alter for certain. Make the most of it.”

Ryn, who had changed out of his pirate gear in favor of imperial robes, rose from the throne where he’d been acting as pro tem. Maris, Drake, Syn, Hauk, and two other gerents stood to his left while a small group of plebs were on the right. His older brother bowed down before him. “Your Majesty.”

The others followed suit.

Once they righted themselves, there was an absolute chill in the air as they faced him. Yeah, he was as welcome here as a fatal STD in a whorehouse.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was their governor and this was his duty.

Darling focused his blurry gaze on the tall, skinny pleb standing closest to Ryn. He’d lay money that he was their leader. So he was the one Darling addressed first. “Care to enlighten me as to why you were shouting at my pro tem?”

The plebs paled. But the tall one didn’t shirk in spite of his obvious fear. He took a step forward. “My name is Gerst. Svidan Gerst, Your Majesty. And we’re from the workers’ coalition.” A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “We are asking that our workday be shortened. Right now, we’re working eighteen-hour days with no time off for illness or recuperation.”

Ryn made a noise of frustration. “I was trying to explain to them that they need to take the matter to Lord Derkstig since he’s the one who’s in charge of setting labor standards.”

Gerst grimaced at the mention of the gerent’s name. “And we’ve taken it to him. His answer is to suck it up and be grateful we have jobs while others don’t.”

Just as Darling started to respond, the door to the main hall opened. Scowling, he watched as Zarya came in holding a little girl around the age of seven in her arms. Dressed in white, the little girl had curly brown hair that framed an angelic face.

He noted the panic on Gerst’s features.

“See,” Zarya said in a soothing, sweet tone to the child. “Your father’s fine. Just like I said. No one’s hurting him.” She set the girl down so that she could run to Gerst.

Sobbing, the girl buried her face against her father’s leg and held tight while the plebs rolled their eyes in obvious contempt.