The walled garden on the roof of a London skyscraper was lush and green under the light of the afternoon sun. Narrow stone walkways cut through a field of grass and caressed the edges of flowerbeds where tulips grew in shades of pink and yellow. Off in the distance, a gazebo sheltered several men and women who stood with their drinks in hand, pleasantly chatting with one another.
It was a surprisingly informal affair despite the presence of over a dozen United Nations ambassadors and twice as many Keepers – the men wore dress pants and shirts with open collars, the women slacks and blouses or perhaps the odd dress – but Leyrians had a different sense of fashion. Harry still felt a little odd about that. Nearly forty years of grooming from his parents, his peers and finally his superior of
