“The gods have blessed you indeed, Grandson,” she said. “I think we may safely say the pledge was witnessed.”

Kieri found it hard to speak. “I … did not expect that.”

“It is not usual,” she said. “Only a few coronations have had such a response from the stone. But now—you need a crown on that head.” She gestured.

The crown was of green-tinged gold, a circlet of leaves—each one unique. On it were set rubies dark as blood. It sat lightly on his brow, as he came back down the mound, this time on the elves’ side of the circle, walking arm-in-arm with his grandmother. Together, they circled the mound, and the courtiers of both bowed low, then mounted the hill again. There they bowed to one another, and the Lady said, “It is your day, Kieri; make your procession and then I will join you for the feast.”

Kieri went back down the human side, this time to cheers. Now his Squires led the way, and the whole Council walked behind. Back down the lane, and into the city, its streets lined with cheering crowds. Banners hung from the windows, flowers were thrown down before him. He’d seen triumphant processions before; he’d walked in some. This was different, and not just because he was now king. He felt around him—behind, where the King’s Grove lay, and ahead, where the forest curved around the far side of the city, and beneath, where the waters trickled through stone to emerge as springs nearer the river—the taig, stronger than ever. His awareness seemed to deepen with every step, and yet it did not distract him from his people, pressing as near as the rangers allowed.

He would walk, he knew, the bounds of the city, ending again at the palace gate. “Bounds must always be walked to dawn first,” Belvarin had explained. “It is not the direction of the circle, but the direction of the first turn that matters—it must be the shortest way to the rising sun and the elvenhome kingdoms.” Now they were nearing the city’s margin, with forest beyond gardens and orchards. A cloud of birds rose singing from the trees—tiny birds, brilliantly colored, fluttering like butterflies. They swooped nearer, flew in a spiral over his head, and returned to the trees as the procession turned toward the river. Butterflies then took over, out of the gardens and orchards, arching over the lane, then settling on his shoulders and arms as lightly as air, as if he wore a cloak of jeweled wings. As they neared the river side of the city, the butterflies lifted away, and out of the water meadows rose flying creatures as brightly colored as the birds and butterflies … glittering gauzy wings, metallic greens, golds, blues, scarlet. Kieri put up his hand and one landed there long enough for him to see it clearly. Great green eyes, a body boldly striped in black, gold, and green, with a green tail. The head cocked toward him; he could see tiny jaws move. Was it talking? He could hear nothing, but the creature looked as if it were listening.