Crown of Fire (Book 3 in the Crown Trilogy)

Seventeen

Technicalities aren't ideal for one's peace of mind where Statera bound treaties are concerned. The deity only speaks directly to one being, and the Divine Sybil has remained silent on the matter. Not that their lack of involvement is surprising.

With speculations running high, my people are bracing for the moment the Allaji cross our border. Every uneventful day fuels their imaginations and anxieties. We don't let our guard down, knowing it's not a matter of how, but when. Add to the stress of an impending war to the neglect I've given to the everyday issues of ruling a kingdom, and it's a recipe for disaster.

"Don't you agree, Your Majesty?"

I shake my head and blink several times. A middle-aged woman holding up a bundle of mulled flowers comes into focus. I drifted off the moment she started prattling on about her garden and how it was the envy of her village.

"I'm sorry. What was the question?" I ask.

Her jaw-length hair swings as she jabs the dead flowers toward an old man and young boy. "If Mr. Woods and his grandson can't control their dog, they should get rid of it. That thing is a menace. Don't you agree?"

The boy kneels next to the shaggy, multi-colored dog. He runs his brown hands over the top of its head and whispers into its ear. The dog's eyes dart around the room, searching the unfamiliar surroundings. By the look of the dirt caked on his muzzle, he just wants to get back to what comes naturally to him... digging up flowers. I can't blame the poor guy. I'd rather be digging in the mud too.

"Mr. Woods, are the allegations true?" I ask, fighting to hold back an eyeroll. Of course, they are true. The dog is wearing the evidence.

The old man steps forward, his back slightly hunched and legs quaking. "It is, Your Majesty. The dog is still a pup, and my grandson and I are working hard to train him when we have a free moment. It's just the two of us, and my grandson must come to the cornfields after school until I'm done working. By the time we walk home, it's well after dark. He plays with Max while I make dinner. Then it is schoolwork and off to bed for us. He is a ball of energy and has found his way out of the gated area we made for him a couple of times. But I promise we are trying our best to train the pup."

I lean forward, holding my chin up so my crown doesn't end up on the floor. "I understand your hardship, but the dog cannot destroy other people's property, no matter how trivial it is."

The woman places her hand over her chest and gasps. Statera forbid, I insult her roses and tulips.

"You're right, and I'll do whatever I can to make it up to Ms. Hollis. I beg you not to punish the pup for my shortcomings with him."

The boy grasps the dog tighter and buries his face in its fur. A small, muffled chorus of no, no, no fills the sanctuary.

Mr. Woods runs a hand over the boy's dark hair. "Forgive my grandson. He has lost a lot this past year. His father died in the battle in Lucent and shortly after his mother became ill. Since the day the pup followed him home, the two have been inseparable. I'll pay for the flowers and plant new ones. I just ask that you give me time to work a few extra days in the field to earn the coin to do so."

The line between justice and compassion is clear and unfair in this case. Ms. Hollis is due compensation for her destroyed garden. Mr. Woods wants to right the wrong, but at what cost? His spine is bowed, and his hands shake. How he withstands the daunting tasks of the cornfields is a miracle. It's not only Mr. Woods who will suffer. His grandson will spend more time in the field as well, losing out on the little quality time he has with his grandfather and dog. All of this for stupid flowers.

I look to my left, where Borin sits at the far end of the dais. He never intervenes in these matters, simply observes. Later tonight, we will convene in my office. He will give me his feedback on how I handled the more important issues. This situation isn't one I want a learning curve on.