David shifted on his feet, watching the digital display clock on the wall of the palace antechamber. If he didn’t get his moment with the king in the next thirty minutes, he’d have to turn around and go back to the barracks to take up his watch. That would mean coming back another day, something he’d already done twice. Please let this blasted line move faster. His ceremonial uniform, worn just for this potential audience, chafed against his shoulders and thighs. Fitted for him when he was sixteen years old and first joined the Panath army, it no longer fit his form six years later despite multiple tailors putting their hands on it. As a fourth son of a single mother, he made due with what he had. To his surprise, the line ahead of him moved quickly. Perhaps the king was in a benevolent mood today. Though he was known internationally for many things, King Samuel Solum II was not the symbol of grace and benevolence his father and grandfather had been. And yet, David held out hope that he would listen to his plea.
