“If all Pargunese were like her,” Aliam said, leaning across, “we would have far less trouble with them.”

“We would have different trouble,” Kieri said. “Open enmity is easier to recognize.”

“I do not believe she intends evil,” said his grandmother. “And I believe I would know.”

“Then I suppose she wants to marry me off to a Pargunese girl,” Kieri said.

“Perhaps. It is a traditional way of cementing friendship between peoples, though—” She paused, one eyebrow rising. “—it does not always work. Especially if one does not wish it.” Then she smiled, a smile that seemed to fill the entire world for a moment. “But I must not lessen the joy of this occasion.”

The next two days were filled with Lyonyan traditions: showing the coronation gifts—now covering many tables—to anyone who wanted to walk past them. Guild processions wound through the city, ending at the palace with a presentation to the new king. Twice, small children escaped and got lost somewhere in the palace; these were quickly found and restored to their parents. Three times, adventurous adolescents tried to sneak upstairs, only to be foiled by alert guards and escorted outside the palace walls. In all this, Kieri had no time for a long talk with Aliam Halveric, and Aliam and Estil had not come to the palace since the coronation itself. On the third day, he sent a message and asked them to come. He was sure the Council would not meet that day, even if he convened them; everyone was tired by now.

When they were announced, Kieri led them upstairs to the royal suite.

“I’m still not used to this,” Kieri said, waving his hand at the room. “This and all that goes with it. I wasn’t trained for it.”

“You’ll do well,” Estil Halveric said. Aliam grunted, running a finger along the carved back of a chair. “It’s nothing but a larger domain, after all …”

“Oh, it’s not the responsibility,” Kieri said, though he felt the weight of it hovering over him. “It’s this—this palace, this ceremony. Your steading, Aliam, or mine … comfortable enough, beautiful—yours anyway—but no more luxury than anyone needs. This is …”

“Royal,” Estil said, with a touch of firmness. “Royal, like you, Sir King.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Aliam said. “You are, and you always were, and this is your house—you belong here, and you will adapt to it sooner than you think.”

“I must not forget,” Kieri said, turning to look out the window. “I must not let it …” He searched for the right words, could not find them. “You always said, Aliam, that a soldier must never get too used to comfort—”

“So I did, and it’s true.”

“But this—” With him, they looked around the sitting room of the royal suite. Soft cushions, upholstered chairs, another one of those incredible carpets figured with flowers and vines and trees and birds and butterflies … “This, if I let it—”