I felt my breath catch. In the Imperial hands was a wreath, a crown of living gold. The Grass Crown. “For your bravery on the field of battle, by our own hand, we set upon your head the Grass Crown! The highest honor we may bestow.” He approached and set the wreath upon my head. It was far heavier than I expected, and when I would remove it later I discovered that it was—in truth—wrought of living gold. The leaves and wood of it were laced with metal. How such a thing can be I do not know, and yet I tell you it is so. “You rode at the head of your army against the Pale, saving not only your
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The Grass Crown.
