As Morgan closed the door and rebolted it, he suddenly realized that the room was cold again, so he padded back across the floor on bare feet to stir the remains of the fire and add more wood. When he was satisfied that it was burning properly, he crossed quickly to the balcony doors, dancing gingerly on tiptoes as his bare feet trod the cold flagstones.

As he drew aside the heavy damask drapes to let the pale sunlight stream in, he became aware of being watched. He turned and smiled at Kelson as he finished securing the drapes, then crossed to the boy’s side and sat down.

“Good morning, my prince,” he said cheerfully. “How do you feel?”

Kelson sat up in bed and pulled the blankets up around himself. “Hmm, it’s cold. And I’m starved. What time is it?”

Morgan laughed and reached across to feel Kelson’s forehead, then took the boy’s wounded hand and began unwrapping the bandage. “It isn’t as late as you think, my prince.” He chuckled. “Your body squires are drawing your bath and will be ready for you momentarily. And you know you mayn’t eat until after the coronation.”

Kelson bounced once on the bed in frustration, then leaned to look at his hand as Morgan removed the bandage. Other than a faint pink puncture mark on either side, he could see no sign of the previous night’s ordeal. And as Morgan bent and manipulated the hand, Kelson was surprised that he felt none of the tenderness he had expected when he moved it.

He looked up anxiously as Morgan released his hand and discarded the bandage. “Is it all right?”

“Quite all right. You’re well fit, after last night’s adventures.”

Kelson smiled, then poised himself to leave the bed. “Then, there’s no reason I should stay in bed, is there?”

“None at all.”

Morgan reached across and took Kelson’s robe from the foot of the bed, stood and held it so that the boy could shrug into it. Kelson bundled it around himself and scampered quickly to the fireplace, plopped down on the fur rug as he warmed himself.

“Umm, this feels good,” he said, rubbing his hands together briskly and smoothing down his rumpled hair. “What’s next?”

Morgan joined him and poked at the fire. “First of all, your bath. They should be about ready for you. And I’ll send your wardrobers in to help you dress as soon as they arrive.”

Kelson stopped rubbing his hands and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Devil take it, I can dress myself!”

“A king must have dressers on his coronation day.” Morgan laughed, taking the boy by the arm and urging him to his feet. “It’s tradition. Besides, you aren’t meant to clutter up your mind with the mechanics of putting on strange robes when you should be contemplating the responsibilities of kingship.”