“This is how you prepare to be king?” Raza queried loudly, likely thinking that Everson’s darkening mood was directed at him. “You waste your hours with your layabout friends? You entertain your mind with nothing more than the gyrations of dancing girls?”
Everson sprang from his cushions, his face finally defiant and spoiling for a fight.
“If I were looking forward to becoming Raza the Forty-Eighth, I might agree with you,” he snapped. “But it’s not a fate I welcome, Father.”
“You have no choice!” Raza exploded. “You have only responsibility.”
“So you expect enthusiasm as well?”
“I expect you to know your place and act accordingly.”
The queen gently put her hand on her husband’s arm. Everson and his father had been engaged in this contentious dance for some time now, exchanging petty
