A smile grew on his lips, growing wider and wider. But it wasn’t an expression of happiness or pleasure, and I knew nothing had changed. I became painfully aware that I was dressed only in shirtsleeves, dusty and sweaty, that my coat and hat were still hanging on the back of Pierre’s chair. And my gloves still sat on the wall next to the tree, leaving my weakened state glaringly obvious.

His eyes met mine. “They say nothing worth having comes easily, Tristan. If you want the crown, you’re going to have to take it.”

The golden circlet still lay at my feet.

I wanted to snatch it up.

I wanted to run as far away from it as possible.

Swallowing the burn in my throat, I reached down, forcing my numb fingers to pick up the symbol of my father’s power. The weight of it made my wrist scream, but I had a lot of practice in keeping pain from showing. In one, two, three steps, I was up on the dais, and I slammed the crown against his chest. “I’ll take it when I’m good and ready, and that’s a promise.” The weight of my word sank into me, horrible, wonderful, and binding.

Letting go of the crown, I spun on my heel and started down the steps toward the door, and not once did I look back.

The antechamber was full of my father’s guardsmen and women, and they all tensed when I swung the doors open, a few peering past me to see if my father had survived our encounter. None of them looked as though they had put any great effort into trying to get past my wards, which led me to believe that my father had forewarned them not to interfere. Which led me to believe that he had predicted my arrival after his announcement. I wondered if his seeming ability to see the future would ever stop amazing me.

The guards parted to let me pass, and I stalked through their midst, eager to be away, when a scent that didn’t belong caught my attention.

Horses.

I stopped in my tracks and took one step backwards. If not for the smell, I might not have noticed the man leaning against the wall, his dark cloak blending into the shadows. A guard stepped between us.

“Move,” I said.

The guard licked his lips nervously, staring at my feet. “The King has ordered that he not speak to anyone while in Trollus, my lord.”

I didn’t respond, only stood silently, waiting. The guard moved out of my way.

The human didn’t straighten from his slouch against the wall at my approach, only watched me with the interest of someone who has nothing better to look at. He was somewhat shorter than me, but something about him made him seem larger than he was. A certain mien that made me suspect that he was someone of importance in the human world.

His clothes confirmed my suspicion, his fur-lined cloak of the finest wool and boots polished to a high shine. A sword hung from his waist, and I did not fail to notice the corner of the emblem stitched onto his breast. An officer in the Regent’s army, and unless I missed my mark, part of the Regent’s court as well. But I didn’t really care about any of that. He was human and he was here, which meant that he was working for my father.