The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of blood and fire. It was still uncomfortably bright, but I bore it with a kingly stoicism.
I sat on a hastily conjured throne of black stone, watching my dysfunctional family of monsters and legends eat.
Yori, my wise and cunning old strategist, sat beside me, sipping a cup of tea.
"You should join them, my Lord," he said, his voice a quiet, reedy sound. "It is good for a king to share a meal with his people. It builds… camaraderie."
"Camaraderie is for people who aren't secretly sleeping with two of their top commanders and trying to prevent a civil war," I muttered under my breath. But I knew he was right.
With a sigh that was only slightly dramatic, I stood and walked towards the fire.
I accepted a simple, wooden bowl filled with steaming white rice and a rich, fragrant curry.
The smell was… familiar. A complex, fragrant cloud of spice and warmth that tickled a part of my brain that had been dormant for a long time.
