Relam nodded thoughtfully. “So, is this it?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Our training is ended?”
“You will not have time once you are crowned,” Oreius said, shrugging. “You’ve been busy enough the past couple days as it is. Besides, there is little more that I can teach you. Most of what you have left to learn is best done through experience I think.”
“So, you will stay here? Quietly disappear again?” Relam asked, just to be sure.
“Oh, I won’t disappear,” Oreius assured the soon-to-be king, laughing. “Not entirely anyway. I’ll keep a hand in, listen to the news and maybe quietly intervene every now and again. But I can do all of that from my garden here. After all of this madness, I think we have all earned a little . . . peace.”
Relam sat down beside Oreius, gazing down the slope to the river. A few small craft were plying the freezing waters this morning, but all was relatively calm. He breathed deeply of the cold, crisp smell of winter and smiled contentedly.
“Yes,” he agreed, stretching out his long legs in front of him and leaning back. “We have earned a little peace.”
They sat together in companionable silence for the rest of the morning. Around noon, Relam forced himself to return to the Citadel and continue work, meeting with Tar, Yavvis, and Narin to compare notes on some of the guards. There were inconsistencies in the stories of several men, prompting another round of interviews, at the end of which Relam locked up three guards on suspicions of treason. The real question was how many of D’Arnlo’s men still ran free?
By the end of the day, the preparations were finished. The coronation would take place the next morning, and Relam would become king. He lay awake in his borrowed bed in the Bastion at the Citadel most of the night, wondering and worrying about what his days as king would hold.
Would he fail? Would he make terrible mistakes? Would he make mistakes that cost the lives of his people? Would the Assembly be too much for him to handle, young as he was? So many questions, each with the potential for disastrous answers. Relam tossed and turned on the hard bed, sleep eluding him for the better part of the night.
Finally, he jumped out of bed and dressed, wrapping himself in his cloak. He buckled on his weapons and pulled on his boots, then began the long descent to ground level. He encountered no guards in his path until he reached the main gate of the Citadel, where Narin had posted a dozen men.
“Your highness!” the leader of the squad called, bowing. “Soon to be your majesty. Can we help you?”
“I’m leaving for a bit,” Relam said. “Visiting a friend. Would you open the gate?”
“At this hour?” the guard asked uncertainly, glancing at his comrades for support.
“How late is it?” Relam asked.
“After midnight, your highness.”
“Great,” Relam muttered, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “Well, get that gate open anyways. I’ll be back in time for the coronation.”
The guards hesitated a moment longer.
“Should I do it myself?” Relam asked pointedly, glancing at the guard room that held the windlass.
“No, your highness. Sorry,” the guard replied quickly. “You four, on the windlass. The rest of you stand guard, just in case there’s someone out there.”
“Thank you,” Relam said quietly as the gate began to open ponderously, admitting a chill wind from outside. “Winter is here it seems,” he added, shivering.
“It’s going to be a long one,” the guard predicted, leaning on his halberd. “Never did see the cold start this early and stick. Mark my words, we’re in for a long, hard season.”
“Consider them marked,” Relam said drily. “Good evening, men.”
“Shall we hold the gate open for you?”
“No, seal it again. I won’t be back for a while.” Relam pulled his hood forward and stepped into the night, hunching his shoulders against the wind.
The city was still and quiet. Anybody with any sense was indoors, out of the cold. Relam proceeded along the streets, alone. No guards, no subjects jostling for position on the road. Just Relam. By himself.
The young prince moved slowly through the city, taking each step deliberately, looking around, drinking in every detail. And always moving closer to the palace.
He had not been there since the morning that he fled to Oreius’ house, seeking answers and looking for help against an unknown threat. He would finally set foot in that place again after his coronation, but this time as a king.
Relam circled the massive building but did not enter. There would be guards in the palace that would want to know what he was up to, and he did not want to talk to them. There was no one he wanted to talk to really, but there was something he felt he should do.
So the prince moved around the palace, passing glittering houses belonging to nobles until he passed the main building of the palace. One side of the road was now bordered not by the multi-story home of the royal family but by the lower wall that surrounded the palace gardens. Ahead, there was a small iron gate in the wall. Relam stepped up to it and peered through the bars. A palace guard stood a few feet inside the gate, scanning the gardens.
“Your majesty!” he exclaimed when he saw Relam. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Relam assured the man quietly. “I just need some time to think, and the gardens seemed like a
