King Jurgen and Queen Drusilla surveyed the gardens through their room’s window. Like all the other windows in the castle, it was huge enough to accommodate both of them. The king of Swordsmith looked very pleased with himself, while the queen was as indecipherable as ever. Her hands played with her necklace with its black moonstone pendant. It was the only thing that revealed what she was feeling deep inside, although she still held everything else in. She was not as serene as she appeared.
“My dear, we are near the end of our quest,” the king declared, holding up his goblet of wine like a toast.
“As it should be,” the queen replied.
“Our son will rule Kingspell, and Swordsmith will be stronger still.”
“Your son must be bound. He has no powers, just like his father.”
The queen’s mo
