THE KING COMMANDSThe stairs felt longer than they ever had before. Esmeralda’s legs were heavy, her boots leaving faint, reddish prints on the white stone steps. The palace was quiet now. The screaming had stopped. The sound of metal hitting metal had faded into a low, distant hum of voices from the city below.

She pushed open the heavy doors to the King’s private room. It didn't smell like a palace in here. It smelled like old dust, bitter medicine, and the end of something.

The King was ...