Over Peach’s messy brown hair I catch my first glimpse of the King. He’s sitting on a horse the color of volcanic ash, and his long white hair flows unbound in the breeze. Set across his forehead is a crown of black-iron leaves. He’s young, pale, and handsome, dressed heavily in a black coat of brocade and velvet with dramatically pointed epaulets of metal and leather. At his side hangs a black sheath, from which rises the elaborate gilded handle of his famous sword, Witherbrand. A dark name for a very pretty weapon.
