Chapter 8The morning of the Queen’s arrival—and the Sea King’s, imminently—dawned clear and clean and brilliant as only the north could be. Rocky islands and shoals stood up in sharp juts against the horizon; the tower of the lighthouse connected land and sea and sky; houses and shops and pointy skylines clustered together and shone with pride. Gull Skerrie might not be Londre or the gleaming cosmopolitan south. But it’d held villagers for thousands of years, and it clung to rocks with stubborn tenacity, and it knew its own worth. Bright as gold, and if everybody else was seeing it now, well, that was only as deserved.
Peter, holding Nerein’s hand, stood out in front of The Bell with Cadence and Jeremiah and Gwen and Rhys. Half the village had crowded into the street; the other half hung
