11
The Quarrels of Our Past
“Your Grace!”
Khallum lowered himself into an inelegant bow, his feet performing an awkward dance as he reacted too late to the moment he hadn’t prepared for. He’d never bowed in his life, not for any Rhiagain at least. At first, he hadn’t realized he was looking at Prince Darrick at all. He could've been looking at any man in the kingdom, any laborer from the smithy’s forge to a spinner from a clothier. Dressed in the threads of a commoner, as was wise, but it gave him a pause he felt the urge to apologize for. He’d met this young man before, once, when he was a lad on progress through the kingdom he was destined to serve.
“You needn’t bow to me, Lord Warwick. I’d not be standing here if it weren’t for your determination.”
Khallum rose. Now, he could regar
