Hal told his brothers that he would watch the king; but he has said many things in his life, and though he cannot be called capricious, only he may truly know his own intentions, as he prefers.

The crown itself is heavier than he expects -- it always is. He bears it in front of him like a dowsing stick, and small wonder it has led him to the throne. With heavy heart and heavy thoughts, he lowers himself into the seat, and the weights upon his shoulders -- his father's death, the new terror -- press tears from him.

Something catches his attention, though, something he cannot miss, distracted as he is. He jerks upright and peers toward the door. The shapes there are dim, but -- but he knows two strangers have joined him.

"Who's there?"

His voice does not mean to waver so; he scrubs his eyes quickly and rises to his feet.