The King sat in his private study, a room smaller than the throne room but lined with books and maps that smelled like old leather. A single candle burned on the desk, its light catching the edges of a half-empty glass of wine he hadn't touched in almost an hour.
Didi stood in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back, her posture perfect and her face carefully neutral.
He studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair.
"So," he said, keeping his tone light. "Tell me about this boy."
"What about him?" she replied, not missing a beat.
"You know what about him," he said, giving her a flat look. "He walked into my throne room dressed like a beggar, smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks, and somehow carried my daughter out of a forest that killed an entire squad of knights. I would like to know a little more about the person who accomplished that."
