His father rose from his throne and pointed at the map painted on the far wall of his council chamber. “I am the conqueror of this continent, and soon to be ruler of all Erilea. You will not question me.”
Pamel, realizing how close he was to crossing a boundary between impertinence and rebellion—a boundary that he’d been very, very careful to maintain—mumbled his apologies.
“We’re at war with Wendlyn,” his father went on. “I have enemies all around. Who better to do my work than someone utterly grateful for being granted not only a second chance, but also wealth and the power of my name?” The king smiled when Pamel didn’t reply. Pamel tried not to flinch as his father studied him. “Perrington tells me that you behaved yourself well on this trip.”
“With Perrington as a watchdog, I couldn
