Relief swept through him as all the usual eyes on him turned away. The reprieve only lasted until they reached the Tree. Kywyn waited in his quarters with unwelcome news. “The Council wants to meet you.”
Sean froze halfway to the dining table. “Why?”
His father grimaced. “They’re antsy.”
As Sean sat, he reached for the bowl of fruit. Glowberries had officially become his favorite food. He also ladled a generous portion of soup from a bowl on the table.
Isobel sat beside him, and he scooped some for her as well.
“Can’t you just hold them off?” Sean asked around a mouthful of glowberry.
“I have held them off, but it’s time. You are an heir of a noble family who’s been missing for two decades. They want to meet you.”
Isobel added, “And the Sending says?—”
He threw a hand up. “Stop!”
“You told him about that?” Kywyn asked, brows raised.
“No,” Sean said. “She told me some prediction about me existed. We did not discuss it, and I don’t want to discuss it. I’m not interested in prophecies.”
Slipping into the chair across from Sean, Kywyn leveled him with a frank stare. “Denial doesn’t change this situation, Sean.”
He knew that. He did. Why was this so hard to accept?
Whatever. He’d stick to his petulance as long as possible. “Why can’t you remain Sovereign until I’m prepared?”
“I have ruled as Sovereign for four-hundred thirty-seven years. Normally you’d have been trained, but given the circumstances… You are of an age, and it’s your turn. Tradition is important.”
Sean’s mouth slowed to a stop, glowberry half-chewed. How many years did he just say? How old was his father, exactly? But then Sean registered Kywyn’s last words and sighed. “So they think I needno training simply because of my name and plan to just throw me in because it’stradition?”
He remembered what David had said earlier about tradition—the past ruining the future. And to think he believed he’d never agree with David about anything.
Kywyn chuckled. “Tradition is important to the people. It helps them feel at ease. The Council and I will be there to guide you. You don’t have to do this alone, but you need to accept the crown and take your place as a figurehead. I don’t think you understand what a symbol of hope you are to the realm.”
Sean stirred a spoon through his soup, thinking. “So they’ll crown me and David at the same time?”
“Yes. Isobel and Autumn were coronated on their twentieth birthdays as well.”
“And David… Is the Council dying to meet him, too?”
Kywyn hesitated and exchanged a brief, pained glance with Isobel.
“David has been forbidden to sit on the Council,” Bel said quietly. “For obvious reasons.”
Silver linings, Sean supposed, but instead of relief, he battled a wave of loneliness. How had he reached a point where he preferred David Berkeley’s company to being alone?
That wasn’t a good sign.
“Fine,” he said, resolving to get at least this small obstacle out of the way. “Let’s meet them.”
High in the Tree, a vast portion of space was dedicated to the Council room. Large windows gave a spectacular view of the forest, and several doors swung open to a great balcony beyond. A round table sat in the center of the room with several seats already occupied. Lines of empty chairs stood against one wall, almost like a viewing area. Brownie attendants awaited instruction near the door.
As Sean entered, Bel trailing behind, those at the table stood.
Bow. Bow. Temple tap. Temple tap.
Nish, the deva who’d introduced himself at the bonfire several nights ago, rushed forward to kiss Sean’s temple. “’Tis an honor to finally have you at our table.”
