Sebastian stood in the upstairs area of the Shrine of Fire. He’d been kept waiting. A powerplay he’d expected. But it was verging on hours now, and he would have liked to sit down.
Still, he was glad he hadn’t been forced to strip and then left kneeling on the cold stone floor for days as he waited for his interview.
It was something that had been a common practice before his time, at least in some of the covens, until a young Queen Avel had banned the practice along with dozens of others, some even more archaic.
Sebastian had met the queen once—much by accident—and had been completely taken with her. Her sense of kindness. Her gentle patience. He’d liked her.
He hoped that King Caspian would be as good a ruler. But it took an ability to forgive he feared the king was lacking.
The doo
