“Then you’re king,” his mother smiled, ruffling his hair.

Tedros smiled back, his heart light as a cloud (even though he’d have to comb his hair again).

“But first there’s dancing monkeys,” said Lancelot.

“Oh hush,” said Guinevere, chortling.

Tedros glanced between them. “Very funny.”

His mother was still laughing.

“Very funny,” Tedros repeated.

“Presenting the Mahaba Monkeys of Malabar Hills!” the courtier shouted.

A cannon blew confetti on the crowd and the people cheered, at least 50,000 of them, packed onto the hills beneath the castle. Per tradition, the drawbridge had been lowered, inviting citizens of Camelot onto royal grounds. They’d been crossing over since the morning to witness the coronation of King Arthur’s son and yet there were still thousands who couldn’t fit, leaving them stranded on the drawbridge or below the cliffs, peering up at the castle balcony and the beautiful stone stage built for the occasion.

Sitting onstage, however, Tedros knew full well it wasn’t stone. It was cheap, rickety wood, masked with paint that made it look like stone, and it creaked hideously under the weight of his father’s throne. Even worse, hot wax dripped onto his sweltering robes from wobbly candelabras they’d nicked from the castle chapel to save on ceremonial torches. Still, he’d kept his mouth shut: Camelot was broke and splurging on a coronation would be irresponsible. But now, watching hapless performers from neighboring realms, he was beginning to lose patience. First there was a fire-eater from Jaunt Jolie who accidentally set her dress aflame; then a tone-deaf chanteuse from Foxwood who forgot the lyrics to “God Save the King”; then two portly young brothers from Avonlea who fell off a flying trapeze into the crowd . . .

And now apes.

“If they weren’t trying so hard, I’d think they were mocking me,” Tedros grumbled, itching under his robes.

“I’m afraid the more skilled acts were out of budget,” Lady Gremlaine snipped from her seat beside him, sipping at a goblet of sparkling water. “We did pay for the monkeys, however. They were your father’s favorite.”

Tedros peered downstage at the six monkeys in red sequined fedoras, scratching their privates and wagging their bums out of synch.

“Was this before or after he started drinking,” Tedros said.

Lady Gremlaine didn’t laugh.

Agatha would have, he thought peevishly. Not only that, but for a woman who’d been determined to spend time with him, Lady Gremlaine didn’t seem to like him much.

When they first met last night, he’d assumed she thought him handsome and charming and would do anything he asked. But now that they were seated together, she kept throwing him skeptical looks any time he spoke as if he had the brain of an oyster. It was undermining his confidence right when he needed it most.

“I don’t understand why Agatha can’t sit here with me,” he carped, squinting at the royal gallery below on the lawn where she was just a shadow, cooped up with the dukes, counts, and other titled nobles. “Or my mother for that matter.”