In the old days, the five clans chose a king ourselves, and Clan Thornrose was no greater than the other four. The ha’Aurelians offered them favored status, positions on the citadel staff and in their guard, to turn them traitors against the rest of us. Leary’s face, dyed blue with woad in the sign of his clan-karst, is a ceremonial mockery of kingship that I don’t let my eyes linger on.
