Gavin held his gaze for a moment that
stretched into eternity. A true king, that’s
what the man before him was. A king not only
in title, but in spirit. As few had been since
Gavin was laid to rest beneath the foundations
of the castle he’d built along the Avery.
Dorian withstood the weight of Gavin’s
stare. Let the king see what remained of him,
mark the pale band around his throat.
Then Gavin blinked once, the only sign of
his permission to continue.
Dorian swallowed. “Where is the third
key?”
Gavin stiffened. “I am forbidden to say.”
“Forbidden, or won’t?” He supposed he
should be kneeling, should keep his tone
respectful. How many legends about Gavin
had he read as a child? How many times had
he run through the castle, pretending to be the
king before him?
lily
(lily)
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