King Ruger froze.
It was difficult to believe that this was the same young man he had seen just a day ago—the one who had refused to bow, who had met his gaze without flinching, who had radiated the kind of quiet authority that made even seasoned rulers take notice. And now here he was, politely lowering his head in greeting.
Not that King Ruger had truly expected Northern to bow. He understood, or at least believed he did. As far as such things went, Northern had always regarded him with a certain mannered respect, never outrightly disrespectful despite the obvious gap in their stations.
Seeing him refuse to bow had led the King to one of two conclusions: either the young man was a king in his own right, accustomed to being the one receiving such gestures, or he was deliberately establishing a hierarchy—making clear from the outset that whatever relationship formed between them would not be one of subordination.
