She's so small, he thought. And only eighteen years old. How difficult to think of her as a queen! She'd hardly grown since her father died.

"I'm sorry, Majesty," said Bokadan. "But if you go looking for the Heart yourself the first Jakaeli you meet will skewer you like a toad. Let me go in your place." Amanizar was dressed in a soldier's tunic and leggings, embroidered in gold and red threads such as a soldier would never wear. The broadsword she wielded, though, was as heavy as any soldier could wish for.

They'd only been dueling for a few minutes and already he could see her shoulders sagging. Bokadan easily parried every stroke. She could sometimes best him with a dueling saber, but with broadswords he only had to wait until she could no longer lift the sword--not very long. She often complained about having to work with such a heavy weapon, but she bowed to his wisdom. Especially today. Everything was different now that the crown was on her head. He could see it in the way she spoke, in the way she held herself.

"I'll seek the Heart myself!" she growled at him. A delightful puppy growl. “You've been listening to Salagon too much.” She lunged and began mounting a credible attack.

"He's correct in this, my Queen!"

"He is not!" The vehemence of her words seemed to lend strength to her arms and Bokadan was forced to step back. He was proud of that step. Her eyes blazed with ferocity. "The Heart will come to me--only to me!" He took another step back, more from the threat of that look than the threat of her sword.

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